Tonight was Malik’s first gallery showing. Lindsay was there and he should be in a great mood, but something was off.

His gaze followed her around the crowded room as she chatted with patrons. He was surprised she’d agreed to attend the event. She’d been acting strange all night. No, since Monday. The day she signed the contracts, she didn’t call, though he’d left her two messages. She finally got back to him the following day and gave him the good news, but when he told her they needed to get together and celebrate, she said she was busy and couldn’t.

She’d been busy every night and day since then. Whenever he tried to make plans with her, she gave a paltry excuse, muttering about a full schedule and needing time alone to concentrate and work on her book. Which didn’t make sense because all her promotional appearances were finished until the book signing in New York later this month, and she’d worked on the manuscript at his place for weeks with no problem.

Last night he’d finally shown up at her place and demanded she tell him what was wrong. She denied anything was wrong, but he knew she was lying. He’d gotten to know her well enough to recognize she wasn’t herself.

Later, he’d make her talk. He missed her energy and sense of humor. He missed spending time with her and waking up with her soft body pressed against his as if his king-size bed weren’t big enough to accommodate them both.

“This is nice,” an older woman said. She looked about in her late forties with silver streaking her shoulder-length hair and laugh lines at the corners of her eyes. “What is it?”

She circled the bronze piece he’d been standing in front of, set on a three-foot pedestal to bring it closer to eye level.

“You can’t tell?” Malik asked, smiling. He wasn’t insulted. Her question gave him a chance to discuss the piece.

The woman circled it one more time and shot a coquettish look at him. “I’m sorry, you’ll have to tell me.”

“It’s an abstract but represents a woman whose heart was broken by a man. Notice the stooped shoulders.”

“Oh yes, now that you mention it, I can see that. There’s her head, and the curve there represents her back and she’s hanging her head. Is that correct?”

“That’s correct.”

She glanced up at him. “So there’s a story here, isn’t there? Are you the heartbreaker?”

He laughed softly. “No, I promise. I was inspired by someone I knew—a woman close to me.” The piece had been inspired by his mother, but he didn’t intend to share such a personal detail with the woman.

A man, whose hair was completely gray, walked up. “Is this the one you want, love?” he asked.

The woman looked at Malik. “Yes. This is the one I want.”

Malik didn’t miss the double entendre, but he thanked them and watched as the couple walked over to the gallery owner to make the purchase.

At the end of the night, he thanked the owners and went in search of Lindsay. He’d rather take her home and get to the bottom of the tension between them, but he’d been invited to an after-party by some of the younger attendees, and he wanted to tell Lindsay. Maybe going out together would put her in better spirits.

He found her near the door. “Man, what a night. I sold two pieces, and I was able to make a few more contacts with people who were interested in my work.” He flung an arm around her neck and pulled her close. “All thanks to my fiancée.”

“Congrats.” She smiled up at him. Not the usual Lindsay smile. This one was devoid of sensuality and affection.

“I was invited to an after-party. You interested in going?”

They walked out to the truck, and Lindsay stood aside so he could open the door. “After-party? You’ve obviously got the networking thing down pat.”

Keys in hand, Malik paused and looked at her. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

She turned around to face him. “Just an observation. You’ve really mastered the art of being friendly and flirting.”

“You’re the one who told me to be friendly and play the flirting game.”

“And you sure know how to play, don’t you?”

“What’s going on? I’m tired of the silent treatment, and now you’re acting like I did something wrong.”

“Sorry I’m not falling all over you like the other women in there.”

He gritted his teeth. “For the past week you’ve been acting weird, and I tried to ignore it, but now you’re accusing me of something that I don’t particularly appreciate. You’ve been distant, and now you want to act as if doing exactly what you told me to do is a problem.”

“I never said your behavior was a problem.”

“You don’t have to. It’s in your voice. It’s in your tone. It’s in the way you’ve been acting for the past week.”

“Nothing has been different the past week. You’re imagining things.” She didn’t even look at him when she told that bold-faced lie.

He folded his arms across his chest. “What’s going on with you?”

“Nothing. Can we go?”

When she moved to enter the truck, he shut the door. “No. Something’s up.”

Lindsay sighed heavily. “You want to know the truth? I think maybe you’re playing the role a little too well. So well, I have to wonder if you’ve been playing a role with me all along. Has our whole relationship been a ruse to keep me happy and helping you? We didn’t exactly start out the right way, did we? And you’ve been excellent at playing my fiancé since the beginning.”

“Are you kidding me?” She was actually accusing him of faking his feelings to use her.

“I introduced you to the right people and got you this showing. My sister’s company bought a couple of your pieces, and your website is up and running. Am I imagining things? Maybe. Or maybe when I no longer prove useful, you’ll dump me.”

“You’re delusional, you know that? I can’t do this right now, Lindsay. I’m on a natural high, and I got invited to an after-party that I intend to go to.”

She placed a hand on her hip. “And that’s another thing. You’re going to after-parties now? When we first got together, you didn’t like going to events, and all of a sudden you’re Mister Night-on-the-Town. You, Mr. Introvert? Go. I’m not coming with you.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t want to.”

“By your own words, you introduced me to the right people, and yes, I charmed them, but I earned every dime people are spending on my work. According to you, my work is good. Or was that all bullshit—smoke you were blowing up my ass?”

“Go have fun, Malik.”

“So you’re really not coming with me? I’m supposed to go by myself?”

“I’m no longer in the mood. I’m tired, and I don’t want to do this anymore. It’s been a long freaking day. A long week.” She stalked away from him.

“Where the hell are you going?”

“Home.” She pulled out her phone, clearly intending to order a car.

Malik came up behind her. Grabbing her shoulder, he forced her to spin around and face him. “What’s gotten into you?”

“Nothing.

He decided to try another tactic and took a deep breath to calm down. He spoke in a soothing voice. “Talk to me.”

“Nothing’s. Wrong!” She yanked her body away from him. “I’m done, okay?”

An invisible fist punched him in the stomach. The shock ricocheted throughout his entire body. “Done with what?”

“I need a break,” she said thickly.

“From me?” He could barely get the words out.

“Yes,” she said, keeping her head bent over the phone.

Another blow. This time pain stabbed his heart and expanded into every corner of his chest. “Okay, I get it. We did all the promotions, and the only thing left is the signing in New York, and you don’t really need me for that anyway, do you? So I should move on and forget about what’s happened between us.”

She didn’t reply.

“You’re the one who told me to get out there. Get a website and network and all that crap. And now you’re mad?”

“I’m not mad. I’m disappointed. You’re like everyone else, and I guess I thought you were different.”

“I don’t even know what that means!” Malik said, throwing up his hands in exasperation.

“It means that you’re already high on the drug of fame. Look at you. When I first met you, you wore jeans and a T-shirt everywhere, for God’s sake. Now you’re dressing better, wearing jackets, and your beard game is really on point. You used to barely talk to people, now you’re flirting and carrying on like a politician running for office. Good job. I’m so happy for you.”

Malik didn’t know the woman before him. “I thought this was an improvement.”

“It is. A vast improvement, but you’ve clearly allowed the fame to go to your head, and I find that sad and pathetic.”

“So I’m pathetic now?” He laughed bitterly. “No sweetheart, that would be you and your fake accusations because you can’t have your way. Tell the truth. The reason you’re upset is because you’re jealous.”

“Jealous?” she shrieked. “Of what, exactly?”

“Of interviewers and your listeners asking about me. What’s the matter? Did your plan work so much better than you expected that now you can’t stand it?” She opened her mouth to speak, but he cut her off. “I don’t want to hear anything from you. I was minding my own business and then you came along and fucked up my head. I never wanted this notoriety. If anybody used anyone in this relationship, you used me. The whole fake engagement was your idea because you lied and needed to salvage your reputation. I went along with it because I needed the goddamn money. But let’s be real. Neither of us needs each other anymore, do we? So forget a break. I’m done being treated like shit. Effective immediately, our relationship is over.”

Something flashed across her face. Fear. He was certain of it, but then she said, “You can’t drop me. I drop you.”

Malik laughed. “You can’t even accept when you’re being dumped. And I’m the pathetic one.” He marched off, leaving her to remain in the same spot. But he couldn’t leave her out there alone in the dark parking lot, waiting for a ride.

He folded his arms and leaned against the truck. She glanced back at him once and then turned around and ignored him. Meanwhile, anger festered within him.

The car she requested pulled up, and she glanced back at him one more time. She opened her mouth to speak, but then seemed to think better of it, and dived into the back seat of the sedan. She closed the door and they drove away.

Malik kept his eyes on the vehicle until it was out of sight.