My Ex-Girlfriend’s Older Sister Got Stood Up At An Art Gallery… So I Asked, “Can I Sit with You ?
Chapter 1
The first thing I noticed about Amelia Carter was that she was pretending not to be hurt.
She stood alone beneath a giant abstract painting at the Marlowe Art Gallery, holding a champagne glass she hadn’t touched.
Every few seconds, she glanced toward the entrance.
Then at her phone.
Then back toward the entrance.
It had been forty minutes.
The man she was waiting for wasn’t coming.
I knew because I knew Amelia.
Not well.
But enough.
She was my ex-girlfriend’s older sister.
Five years earlier, I had dated her younger sister, Sophie.
Sophie and I had been together for almost two years.
We were young.
We were serious.
We thought we’d stay together forever.
Then life happened.
Sophie got accepted into a graduate program across the country.
I stayed because my mother had gotten sick.
We tried long distance.
It lasted six months.
Then Sophie sent me a message saying she couldn’t do it anymore.
That was the end.
Or at least, I thought it was.
I hadn’t spoken to Amelia since the breakup.
She had always been protective of Sophie.
She had never hated me.
But she had never exactly welcomed me either.
Now, years later, I was standing ten feet away watching her get stood up.
I had only come to the gallery because my employer was sponsoring the exhibition.
I worked in private security now.
Not exciting.
Not glamorous.
But steady.
That night, I was there to protect a collection of expensive paintings.
Amelia was supposed to be attending with a man named Lucas Grant.
Lucas was a well-known art investor.
I recognized him from business magazines.
Apparently, he had promised Amelia he would meet her at seven.
It was almost eight.
She checked her phone again.
Nothing.
I watched her take a slow breath.
Then she smiled.
Not a happy smile.
The kind people use when they are trying to convince themselves they don’t care.
I looked away.
I should have left her alone.
But then she set her champagne glass on the table.
Her hand trembled.
I walked toward her.
“Amelia?”
She turned.
Her eyes widened.
“Daniel?”
I nodded.
She glanced behind me as though hoping someone else had spoken.
“It’s really you.”
“Yeah.”
She laughed softly.
“Wow.”
“Yeah.”
We stood there awkwardly.
Then she looked toward the entrance.
He still hadn’t appeared.
I shouldn’t have said anything.
But I did.
“Can I sit with you?”
She looked surprised.
“Here?”
I pointed toward the empty bench beneath the painting.
“Unless you’re waiting for someone.”
A sad smile crossed her face.
“I was.”
“Was?”
“Apparently.”
She sat.
I sat beside her.
For a few seconds, neither spoke.
Then she whispered,
“He promised he wouldn’t stand me up.”
I nodded.
“That’s rough.”
“Maybe I’m pathetic.”
“No.”
“You don’t have to say that just because you used to date my sister.”
I looked at her.
“You were never pathetic.”
She turned toward me.
For the first time that evening, she looked directly at me.
Something in her expression made my chest tighten.
I remembered her from years ago.
Not as Sophie’s sister.
As Amelia.
The quiet woman who always asked whether I had eaten.
The woman who noticed when I was tired.
The woman who once slipped me twenty dollars when she thought I couldn’t afford gas.
I had forgotten those details.
Now they came back.
She looked at the painting.
“Do you like this one?”
I looked at the enormous splash of blue and gold.
“No.”
She laughed.
“Honest.”
“What about you?”
“I hate it.”
“Then why are you standing under it?”
She smiled.
“Because Lucas likes it.”
I looked at her.
“Maybe that’s your problem.”
She frowned.
“What?”
“You’re standing under paintings you don’t like for men who don’t show up.”
She stared at me.
Then she laughed.
A real laugh this time.
“You’re still blunt.”
“You’re still stubborn.”
She looked down.
Then quietly asked,
“Why are you here?”
“Work.”
“You work security?”
“Yes.”
“Interesting.”
“What?”
“You always seemed like the kind of person who would become something bigger.”
I smiled.
“Maybe this is bigger.”
She looked at me.
“Maybe.”
A gallery employee approached.
“Ms. Carter, Mr. Grant called.”
Amelia’s face tightened.
“What did he say?”
“He said he won’t be attending.”
She nodded.
“Thank you.”
The employee left.
Amelia sat perfectly still.
I didn’t know what to say.
So I did the only thing that felt right.
I moved a little closer.
“Do you want to leave?”
She looked at me.
“Yes.”
I stood.
“Then let’s go.”
She smiled.
“Daniel?”
“Yeah?”
“Thank you for sitting with me.”
I nodded.
“No problem.”
Neither of us knew it then.
But that simple question—
Can I sit with you?
—was about to change both our lives.
