“He kissed you?” Jesse squealed, and Blair rushed to shush her.

“Can you keep your voice down? Damn, why do I have to tell you to keep secrets secret!” She smiled nervously at the people wandering through the gallery. “I’m here to make a good impression, remember?”

“But he kissed you. Grabbed you and kissed you.” Jesse whistled, earning a glare from a nearby couple. “Sorry, please continue to enjoy the beautiful photographs on the walls. My friend is the artist who took them.”

Her cheeks burning, Blair smiled apologetically and steered her friend towards the rear of the gallery where there were less people. “You’re ridiculous, you know that?”

Jesse nodded. “I wouldn’t be your friend if I wasn’t.”

She grunted in annoyance, but none of it was directed at Jesse. “He kissed me and we got into a half argument and he stormed off. Why does he always get to storm off?”

“Actually, I believe you stormed off after the last major blow up you had.”

Blair’s mouth opened to argue then clamped shut. “Crap, you’re right.”

“So your parents want you two to get hitched, he kisses you, and you start to reminisce, and then you have to go and ruin it with a fight?”

“I didn’t ruin it.”

“I call that ruining it. He obviously wanted to try again or see if you had a chance together, and you smashed his dreams to the ground. Stomped on them, too.”

Blair tugged at her curls. “I didn’t stomp on them,” she pouted. “I might have squashed them a bit too much, but what was I supposed to do? He caught me off-guard, and last I heard, he’s still flitting around campus from bed to bed, especially with that Bethany.” Jealousy twisted her gut, and the sushi she had eaten earlier no longer seemed like a good idea. “Besides, if he really wanted to try, why haven’t I heard from him?”

“You scared him off, that’s why.”

“It’s not my fault.”

“Correction, not entirely your fault.” She glared at her friend, but Jesse only laughed. “Hey, don’t look at me like that. I know what he did, but, honey, you decided to hit back like a freight train,” Jesse reminded her with an arched brow. “You don’t get to play the martyr card.”

Blair hurried to place a smile on her face when more people walked by, admiring her photos hanging on the wall. Jesse was the only one who knew about her work being shown, but how she longed for her mom to know what she was up to and approve a life not spent in an office somewhere, or a mansion. Blair was ready to get the hell out of Kentucky, but this issue with the arranged marriage put a kink in her well laid-out plans. Now she would have to figure out how to escape from under the watchful gaze of Hugh if he wanted this marriage to take place. As of their conversation a week ago beneath the treehouse, he wanted nothing to do with her. A few times, she caught herself staring at his contact on her cell, but she stopped her thumb from tapping it and calling him to say something—anything—to hear his voice.

“Blair,” Henry, the plump, grey-haired owner of the gallery, called to her, waving over his head.

“Go on, I’ll be here,” Jesse told her, but she wasn’t looking at Blair.

“Something wrong?”

Jesse’s eyes narrowed as she smiled. “No, nothing. I’m simply wondering if you used the right lens for that picture over there. Go on, I’ll wait here.”

Blair followed Jesse’s gaze, but she didn’t see anyone she recognized so pushed her way politely through the growing crowd to Henry. “From that smile on your face, I’d say you have good news.”

“Your work is fantastic this round. You must tell Jesse how amazing she is. I have several of my other photographers requesting her to be their model.”

“Really? I bet she’d love to work for them,” Blair said, excited for her friend.

Blair did pay Jesse what she could from the photographs that sold. Though her friend usually tried to refuse it, Blair never took no for an answer. Jesse was an art major herself, but her medium was sculpting. She was always looking for side jobs to help supplement her income when Blair’s pictures didn’t sell, which was very rarely.

“And I’ve already sold twenty tonight. First of the opening and twenty gone like that.”

“Wait, to one person?” she exclaimed.

“Two buyers, but one purchased fifteen of them. The ones of the old treehouse and of the stables? Those have gone. And the few of you—those marvelous shots you refuse to tell me how you got—all gone.”

Blair had never sold so many pictures in a single night. A thrill shot through to her curling toes in her boots. “That’s incredible. I wonder who the buyer is.”

“A man, but I didn’t recognize the name.”

“I guess I have a sort of patron, then.” Blair worried some weird person had bought up all her work but at the same time, the more money she managed to bring in, the sooner she could put her plans in motion and escape this city. “Thanks, Henry.”

“No, no, thank you, my child.” He frowned. “Are you certain you don’t want me to put your real name on your work? An artist should be known for her accomplishments.”

“I’m sure,” she said quickly. “I like to remain…anonymous. Hey, Henry, was this buyer the same one who bought those shadow shots I did in January?”

He tapped his double chin in thought. “I can check, but I believe so. Why?”

“No reason, just curious.”

One of the visitors called for Henry, and he excused himself from Blair’s side. She sidled around the gallery, looking at each photograph and wondering what she would have done differently in each shot. That one could have used a different lens, another had too much shadow in it for her taste now, but for the most part, she was happy with her work and how far she’d come. Most of her monthly allowance for school went into new lenses and equipment for her photographs. The dream was to travel the world and take photos of incredible sights she couldn’t find in the US. The world had too much to offer for her to stay in one place forever.

Before her parents married, Brody had ventured across the globe, two weeks here, a month there, going wherever the winds of change blew him. But his legacy was to carry on in his father’s footsteps, as Jean imagined Blair would wish to do.

Settling down and having the perfect white picket fence life with kids and a husband were not in the cards for her. Not when the man she wanted would never be hers. When she circled around to Jesse again, she told her she was going out to get some air.

“Is everything all right?” her friend asked.

“Good, but it’s stuffy in here. Oh, and you have some job offers. Talk to Henry before you leave.”

Outside, the air cooled her flushed cheeks but did little to ease her rising anxiety. When the semester ended, she would take off. There could be no telling Jean or she would try to stop Blair. Leaving her mom behind would be hard, but Blair needed to do this. She paced down the sidewalk, wringing her hands, and spun on her heel to walk back again when she walked straight into a hard body and hands reaching out to stop her from falling on her face.

“Shit, sorry,” she mumbled until she looked up. “What are you doing here?”

Hugh’s hands remained on her arms, a shocked look on his face as if she’d caught him in the act of vandalizing someone’s car. “Uh…walking. I was out walking.” He let her go and stepped back. “What are you doing here?”

“Walking,” she replied without thinking. Why is he here…standing outside the gallery?

“Really, I didn’t even see you, sorry. I was out with Justin at the bar down the street.”

She spied the neon sign of one of the local hangouts. “Okay, that’s fine.”

The silence grew between them, and she scrambled to find an excuse to walk around him and go into the gallery, but if he saw her go in there he might follow. If he found out about her secret side life, he might blab it to his family, who would tell her mom.

“I’ve been meaning to call you,” he said nervously.

“Oh? What did you want to talk about?” Why is this so awkward?

“About last weekend. I might have crossed a line when I kissed you, so I wanted to apologize for my ungentlemanly behavior and hope there are no hard feelings between us over it.”

“No hard feelings?” Her fear at being found out was overridden by how blatantly he tossed aside a moment of intimacy he’d started. “Sure, no hard feelings at all for you kissing me and making me think that maybe there was a chance you weren’t the arrogant asshole I think you are.”

“Me? Oh no, you don’t get to stand there and act all high and mighty,” he snapped.

“I’m not. I’m being truthful.”

“If you want to be truthful, maybe it’s time you come clean and admit you fucked up too.”

Her jaw dropped at his flare of emotion. “You arrogant prick! You really think this is my fault?”

“Yes, really. You act like I’m the only one in this relationship who screwed us over, but you did the exact same thing to me. Admit it, Blair, stop hiding behind your hurt feelings and admit what you did was to hurt me the way you think I hurt you.”

She shoved him hard. “Seriously? You did hurt me! Did you think I wouldn’t find out what happened? Or I would blow it off? Jesus, Hugh, all I did was be your friend and help you.”

“You talked me into ruining my life.”

“No, your parents did that to you. Don’t you dare put that on me,” she shouted.

“It’s your fault. I had a plan and you rushed me. And when I needed you, you weren’t there.”

“I was there, you idiot!”

“No, the night I needed you, you weren’t there!” he ranted, and she stepped back, confused. “I went to your house. I looked for you, I called you, but you weren’t around. The one time I needed my best friend, the one time I needed to lean on you, you were gone. Where were you, Blair? Where?”

Her mouth worked, but no sound came out. That night, that horrible night, she’d promised she would be there if he needed her. Where had she been? She wracked her brain, digging for the memory and cursed, hanging her head when she finally remembered.

“Mom took me out that night to go over future plans for the company and my role in it,” she whispered, covering her mouth with her hand. “Hugh, I didn’t… I’m so sorry.”

That was the night Blair decided she would make her own path in life and had started saving up for her escape. She meant to tell Hugh about it that weekend so they could run away together and not be trapped in the lives their parents created for them, but he didn’t answer her calls. Didn’t reply to her texts. She even stopped by the house, but Kella said he wasn’t feeling good. It wasn’t until a week later, after not hearing from him, that she caught wind of what he had done with Bethany, of all people—that stuck-up little twat who’d had her eyes on Hugh since they were in high school.

All these years, she held onto her anger over what he did to them, but she blew everything out of proportion thinking he held her responsible for what his parents had done. His eyes weren’t filled with anger as they stared at her, but pain and confusion. When her dad had died, Hugh was there for her for years afterwards as she tried to figure out who she was without him. He helped her through her grief, made her laugh, and held her when she cried, and she as good as stabbed him in the back. She reached out, waiting for him to flinch away from her, but he stayed perfectly still, letting her hold his hand and squeeze it between her palms.

Apologizing again wasn’t enough, and she wasn’t ready to do that unless he was ready to do the same for what he’d done to her since then. They were both at fault in how they reacted.

“Hugh, this whole situation, between us…I’m not sure—”

His kiss was so sudden she wasn’t sure what happened at first, but her lips did, and man, did they react. Her body responded, melting into his touch as he backed her into the nearest wall, burying his hands in her curls as she clung to his shoulders in a desperate need to be close, to feel him as she once had before their lives turned away from each other.

Whistles and cat calls sounded around them, and Hugh lifted his head, his eyes glazed over with passion. “Shit, I’m sorry. I forgot where we were.” He pulled back, his face flushed red as he glowered at the onlookers.

“It’s okay. I…uh, I just…wow. Let my brain catch up here.”

“Look, can we meet somewhere and talk about this?” he asked. “Somewhere more private.”

“What did you have in mind? We both live with our parents, remember?”

“Actually, I won’t, at least once spring break hits. I’m getting my own place.”

“Since when?” she asked, surprised.

“Since now. After the dinner last weekend, I’ve been doing some thinking and decided I need my own space away from them.” He kicked a small rock on the sidewalk. “I could give you a key if you want, so you could swing by and escape for a bit, or hang out like we used to.”

“And we could talk? Really talk?”

“I would like us to. This time without you, it’s been… it’s weird, you know? And I know you’re still mad at me and I’m not going to lie and say I forgive you either,” he said, laughing as she sighed, “but I don’t want to walk away again and leave our relationship in shambles.”

She held out her hand and he took it. “I’d like that, more than you know.”

“Good, that’s good. I still have your number.”

“I still have yours, too. Text me when you get your place set up and I’ll bring some beer over. We can have an apartment-warming party,” she suggested. Her state of disbelief at what was happening between them hovered around her as he nodded and backed away.

“I’ll text you soon. In a couple of days. Oh, and you should check out that gallery—there are some really good pictures in there,” he added with a knowing wink and set off down the sidewalk.

Blair’s fingers touched her lips throbbing from the intensity of that kiss as she watched him disappear into the crowd. Her whole world was turned upside down in five minutes. The temptation to follow him and find a way to continue what he started grew, but Jesse poked her head out of the gallery door and called to her.

“What’s going on? I thought maybe you wandered off and got lost.”

“No, no, I’m still here,” she replied. “I think.”

“Blair? You okay?”

“You missed the smooching fest,” someone walking by said, clapping his hands. “It’s was quite a show.”

“Smooching fest?” Jesse repeated. “Care to explain what’s going on?”

“Later, over drinks—very, very strong drinks,” she promised. “I think I’m in trouble.”

* * *

Hugh set down another box in his new living room and wiped sweat from his brow. “That it?”

“Last stack,” Justin said and closed the front door behind him. “It’s official. My little boy’s all grown up and on his own!” he cried mockingly and clasped his hands to his chest.

“I am indeed. Beer and pizza?”

“Sounds good to me.”

Hugh ordered the pizza from his cell as Justin grabbed two beers, finally cold, from the fridge and popped the tabs. “I saw Blair the other night,” he told his friend as he took the beer, gulping half as he waited for Justin’s reply.

“Blair as in Blair Fraser?”

“Yeah, the only Blair I know.” He picked at the label on his beer. “We might have kissed a few times.”

“A few times?” he repeated. “Hugh, what’s going on with you, man? I thought you said you would never get involved with that woman again, not after the shit she put you through.”

“To be fair I put her through hell, too,” he commented. “We both messed up.”

Justin’s lifted brow said he wasn’t convinced. “I don’t know. I heard some of the things she said about you and they weren’t good. Are you sure she’s not playing you now?”

“Blair isn’t that type of woman,” he argued. He did have to ask, “What kinds of things did you hear?”

“More or less, she thought you were turning into your dad and couldn’t stand to be with someone who was as arrogant and full of himself as you were turning out to be,” he rambled, cringing with each word. “Look, man, she was pissed about you sleeping with that chick. Everyone knew it.”

“And then she went and slept with someone else,” Hugh shot back. “She really said I was turning into that bastard?”

“Essentially, yes, that was the gist of her rantings.”

Hugh drained the rest of his beer. His whole life, he’d worked at being who he wanted to be and not who his parents told him he had to be. Tried and failed, sadly. Blair, of all people, knew the shit he put up with and was the one who’d told him over and over he could change and show his parents there was more to life than holding onto their wealth and power. The night he stood up to his dad, his life fell apart. He told Hugh in that moment Blair was a bad influence on him and maybe the idea of their friendship and eventual marriage was not in their son’s best interests. His dad changed his tune when Hugh felt there was no other option than to fall in line and do what his parents wanted. He reached into the fridge for another beer.

“She’s coming over this week so we can talk,” he told Justin.

“Talk about what?”

“You know, the arranged marriage I told you my parents brought up a few years back.”

“Yeah, to the daughter of a wealthy family…oh shit, they meant Blair.”

Hugh tipped his beer in toast to his friend. “You guessed it.”

“What will you do?”

He leaned against the kitchen counter in his small kitchen, staring around at the scattered pieces of furniture and boxes he would spend all spring break unpacking. “I have no fucking idea, man, not anymore.”

Everything that had happened since the night he tried to stand up to his parents had worked against him and a relationship with Blair. He wanted it mended, wanted a chance to tell her how he felt about her, and at the same time, he hoped to hear some semblance of why she did what she did afterwards. Why she turned away from him and refused to keep fighting for him—with him—against a life he never wanted.

He passed the rest of the night unpacking boxes, eating pizza, and drinking beer as his friend turned the conversation far away from Blair. Too bad she would never get out of his mind.