Chapter 23

Thea wasn’t sure if she was going to die of excitement or nerves. Maybe both. Her stomach roiled a bit, adrenaline pumping through her, and she kept wiping sweat from her forehead. It didn’t help that it was one of the warmest days on record in Seattle, with the temperatures edging toward ninety degrees and few places having air conditioning.

But Thea didn’t care about the heat. She only cared about how this art show would go, and if she’d made a huge mistake agreeing to do it.

“Hey, it’ll be amazing,” said Mittens as they sat outside the gala in his car. He rubbed her back. “Do you need a Xanax?”

Thea laughed shakily. “No, thanks. The last thing I need to do is start blurting out embarrassing things.”

She wiped her clammy hands on her pants as she tried to settle her nerves. She couldn’t help but remember the last art show she was in, when Henry Thatcher had told her that her art was drab and lifeless. It was stupid that all these years later, his words could still affect her. If