If I Can’t Have You The Thorntons Book 3

The hum of polite conversation and the soft clinking of wine glasses filled the gallery like a whispering tide. Emily Carter stood near a wall draped with abstract canvases, holding a glass of red wine she had barely touched. The room was warm with soft lighting and filled with people who wore designer shoes and curated smiles. This was her world part business, part performance  and she knew how to play her part.

It was the grand opening of "Lines & Light," a high-profile art exhibit in downtown Atlanta. Her firm had designed the interior layout, and the gallery owner had insisted she attend. Emily had shown up in a sleek navy jumpsuit and gold hoop earrings understated elegance. She knew how to blend in while still being seen, a skill she had learned the hard way.

She sipped her wine, eyes scanning the room, when she felt it  that odd shift in the air. A sudden awareness, like someone watching her. She looked up, and her gaze locked with his.

Tall. Dark suit. Unapologetically confident. The kind of man who didn't need to introduce himself to be remembered. He stood across the room, near a sculpture installation, his eyes fixed on her with a mix of curiosity and something else... interest, maybe? Challenge?

Emily looked away first.

She hated that.

But when she looked again, he was walking toward her.

"Beautiful work," he said, nodding toward the wall of paintings beside her.

She raised a brow. "You mean the art or the layout?"

"Both," he said, flashing a half-smile. "But I was actually talking about the layout. You designed it?"

"I did."

"You have a good eye."

"You don't seem like someone who goes to art galleries."

He chuckled, low and warm. "I don't. But a friend dragged me here tonight. I'm glad he did."

She wasn't sure how to respond to that, so she sipped her wine again.

"I'm Jason," he said, offering his hand.

"Emily."

Their handshake was brief but firm. Her pulse betrayed her just a little. He noticed.

"You always this calm around strangers?" he asked, tilting his head.

"Only when they stare from across the room before saying hello."

He smiled again, this time wider. "Guilty."

Emily turned toward the painting, buying herself a moment. "You like this piece?"

Jason stepped closer, not too close, but enough to make her aware of him. "It's chaotic. But I like that the chaos has structure. Like it was falling apart until someone decided it shouldn't."

She looked at him then. Really looked.

He wasn't just attractive. He was grounded. The kind of man who didn't flinch under pressure. The kind who had once been burned and rebuilt himself with thicker skin.

That made her nervous.

"So what do you do, Jason?" she asked, crossing her arms gently.

"I run a tech company. We build productivity tools for creative teams  project management, visual planning. Boring stuff, depending on who you ask."

She laughed soft, genuine. "Sounds like something I could actually use."

He smiled again, this time more carefully. "Maybe I'll give you a free subscription."

"Bribery already?"

"No," he said, voice smooth. "Just trying to find a reason to see you again."

Emily stared at him, caught between the flutter in her chest and the instinct to run. That was the thing about her life now curated, organized, predictable. This? This wasn't in the plan.

"I don't usually date strangers I meet at art galleries," she said.

"Then let me not be a stranger," Jason said. "Let's change that."

A silence lingered. The kind that hummed with potential.

"Okay," she said, surprising even herself. "One drink. Not tonight. But maybe sometime."

Jason's smile softened. "I'll take it."

She pulled out her phone and handed it to him. He entered his number with a casual confidence that annoyed her mostly because it worked. He gave it back with a wink.

"I'll let you get back to looking mysterious," he said.

Emily raised a brow. "I wasn't trying to be mysterious."

"That's what makes it worse," he said, and then he walked away just like that.

She didn't even realize she was holding her breath until he was gone.

Emily stayed at the gallery a little longer, pretending to admire the art. But her mind kept circling back to Jason  his voice, the way he held her gaze, that easy confidence. It wasn't just attraction. There was something quieter under the surface. A steadiness. A story.

And that unsettled her more than she wanted to admit.

"Earth to Emily," a familiar voice chimed behind her. She turned to see Renee, her assistant and closest friend, walking toward her in a fitted black dress and heels she was definitely going to complain about later. "You've been staring at that painting for fifteen minutes," Renee said. "Either you're deeply inspired, or you just met someone."

Emily smirked. "What makes you think it's not both?"Renee's eyes widened. "Wait, seriously?"

"He came up to me. His name's Jason. He's... interesting."

"Interesting how? Tall and hot interesting or emotionally complex interesting?"

"Both."

Renee laughed. "Girl, you in trouble."

Emily rolled her eyes but smiled anyway. "I'm not in anything. We just talked."

"Which is more than you've done with anyone since... him."

The mention hung in the air, soft and sharp.

Emily didn't respond. Instead, she walked toward the far end of the gallery where the crowd was thinner, the lights dimmer. Her heels clicked softly against the polished floor, grounding her in the present. But her mind wandered  unwillingly  to the past.

It had been four years.

Four years since the phone call that changed everything.

Four years since her sister Morgan had stolen more than just the spotlight  she had taken someone Emily had trusted. Someone Emily had thought might be the one. Of course, no one had known about them. It was brief, a quiet almost-relationship that never got off the ground. Because Morgan got there first. And Emily walked away.

Silently.

Gracefully.

Like she always did.

But it left a bruise that never really healed. One that made her question everything  her judgment, her worth, her ability to trust.

So no, she didn't do spontaneous. She didn't do romantic surprises or charming strangers with dimples and ambition.

Until tonight.

Jason's smile flashed in her mind again, and she shook her head as if she could dislodge it.

"Okay, okay," Renee said, catching up. "But if you don't text him, I will."

"I haven't even decided if I like him yet."

"Liar," Renee said, bumping her shoulder. "You like him. You're just scared."

Emily didn't argue. Because Renee wasn't wrong.

Later that night, Emily sat on the edge of her bed, fingers hovering over her phone. She'd saved Jason's number, typed a message... and deleted it. Twice.

She didn't want to seem too eager. Or too cold. Or like someone who spent twenty minutes drafting one text.

Eventually, she typed:

"Nice meeting you tonight. The chaos with structure line? Pretty accurate."

She hit send before she could change her mind. Her heart did a little kick in her chest.