The Collector's Curse

【26】Things Got Ugly

Time was supposed to help heal all wounds, so it was what I needed to give myself. Time. Then, the agonizing ache that wouldn't leave my chest would slowly fade away, and I'd be left with nothing but distant memories and a new understanding of our world.

I woke up the next day with another couple of texts from him. He wanted to talk, wanted me to let him plead his case. But we'd done this twice already, dinner where I'd sat and listened while he'd charmed me into forgetting anything that wasn't him. I wasn't falling for it again. I was too smart for that.

To keep myself distracted and get away from Gigi's questions, I headed off to work the next day. Seeing my colleagues and keeping busy would prevent me from overthinking about what I'd left behind. As I walked the grounds of the museum, the familiar hallways seemed almost foreign. Those few weeks at the Westergaard estate felt like months, as if my entire life had been put on hold for much longer than it actually had.

Colleagues greeted me with enthusiasm as I crossed their paths, and I did my best to match their energy and pretend I wasn't feeling hollow inside. But while work acquaintances were easy to fool, I dreaded the moment I'd meet Ian, Henry, and Ingrid. They knew me enough to notice if something was off. That was why I took in a deep breath before opening the door to the shared office, hoping things would be smooth.

To my relief, I was the first one there, so after a sigh, I went to sit on my chair. I was catching up with a few emails when the door opened, and Ian appeared. Unmoving, I observed as my boss walked in, oblivious to my presence. Just as he was reaching his desk, I cleared my throat. With a slight jump, he turned around to face me. His face went through an array of emotions—fright, surprise, and confusion as soon as he recognized me.

"Holy shite, lass... Ye scared me."

"Do I look that tired?"

He shook his head with a broad smile as he came toward me. I'd missed him and his plaid shirts, lush beard, and glasses. I stood from my chair, and we hugged for a moment.

"I didn't know ye were coming back," he said once he'd released me.

"Yeah, I wanted to surprise you. And everyone, really."

"It's good to have you back, Mila. This office isn't the same without you in it."

The grin that claimed my lips didn't even need to be faked. "I can see that. It's so clean and orderly."

His deep laugh echoed within me. "Ye know what I meant, ye little minx. So, how was Oslo? We haven't spoken since your trip there."

I held back a wince. "It was...great. Ulr—Mr. Westergaard took me to a gallery that sells priceless antiques." Talking of Ulrik—or rather Haakon—came at a price, and I was forced to look away from my boss and to my desk instead. "I never realized how easy it is for rich people to own whatever they want. He bought so many things there and never even batted an eye at the prices."

"That's not right if ye ask me. Such pieces belong in museums, not pirate collections," Ian mumbled. Part of me wanted to argue in Ulrik's favor, to explain that he actually returned most of his collection to their countries of origin, but I held back. I had no obligation to defend him or his image. Ian seemed to reach that conclusion himself since he continued with, "I suppose it's a good thing he's willing to share, though. Did you finish your selection for your exhibit?"

This time, I couldn't help but grimace. With everything going on, I hadn't even gotten that far into my reflections. The repercussions of my hasty leave and Ulrik's revelations were still slowly making their way into my grasp. I wanted Ulrik and his lies gone from my life. My broken heart couldn't take more of him, not when I now knew the truth. But borrowing from him as I had intended would mean another two ears of entanglement, at the very least. Two years of being constantly reminded of him, of the time we shared together, of the world-altering truth bombs he'd dropped on me...