Harper
The rest of the evening is a blur. Michael has to circulate, of course, but he comes back to Damien and me frequently to check in. He asks where I’m showing my work. I blush and say, “The Witch’s Brew coffee shop on Lake Street in Minneapolis.”
Michael grins at me. “A perfect place to start.”
“You’ll have to give some pieces to a proper gallery now, though. People will be wondering where to find your work,” Damien whispers in my ear.
“Because you announced it in front of the press!” I reply.
Damien gives me an innocent look. “Did I do that?”
I squeeze his arm in gratitude, and he laughs.
It’s late by the time we leave Michael, Julian and the rest of Damien’s acquaintances at the gallery. I can’t help but note that Damien didn’t call any of them his friends.
“Do your friends
