Sandra POV
I told Catherine I needed air.
What I meant was I needed to be somewhere that didn't know my name.
The gallery opening was listed in the arts section of a magazine I'd found in the library—a small independent space downtown, new artists, no dress code mentioned.
I changed out of the house clothes I'd been wearing for three days straight, pulled on a dark blouse and the one pair of trousers I owned that didn't look like I was apologizing for existing, and walked out of the mansion before I could talk myself out of it.
The cab ride felt like breathing again.
The gallery was warm and a little loud, packed with the specific kind of crowd that shows up to opening night, people who genuinely cared about art mixed with people who wanted to be seen caring about art, and you could
