They Bet On My Flight, So I Booked One To Iceland Chapter 07

They Bet On My Flight, So I Booked One To Iceland Chapter 07

On opening day, the first visitors stopped in front of the featured painting at the entrance.

It was the same piece Chloe had once defaced with an eye-rolling frog meme watermark, but I had transformed it completely.

In the new version, a girl tore away a ridiculous sticker and raised her face to embrace the green northern lights.

My mentor stood beside me and said softly, “You made pain beautiful.”

I shook my head.

“It isn’t beautiful. It’s finally mine.”

Elias took a glass of champagne from the server before it reached me, then lowered his voice.

“You don’t drink, right?”

I smiled.

“Right.”

He handed the champagne back and replaced it with a cup of hot tea.

The cup had barely reached my hand when a commotion broke out at the entrance to the gallery.

I looked up and saw two familiar figures.

Mason had lost so much weight that he was almost unrecognizable, his black coat hanging loosely from his frame.

Chloe had lost her old brightness as well. Her hair was pulled back carelessly, and dark circles shadowed her eyes.

They had clearly rushed to get there.

Mason pushed through the crowd and came straight toward me.

His eyes were bloodshot, and his voice was so low that I could barely hear it.

“Avery.”

I did not respond.

He pulled a ring box from his pocket and dropped to one knee.

The guests around us fell silent.

“I didn’t make a bet with anyone, and this isn’t a joke.” He looked up at me, his voice trembling. “I came here to beg you. Marry me, and let me spend the rest of my life making this up to you. Please.”

Chloe approached in tears and reached for my sleeve.

“Avery, I finally understand what it means to respect other people’s boundaries. I got fired for pulling stupid pranks on my coworkers. I have nothing left now. Can’t we go back to the way things were?”

I stepped back before she could touch me.

Mason remained on one knee, still holding up the ring box.

“I sold the apartment, and every cent is yours. I’ll pay for the laptop, the competition, and everything else you lost. I’ll do whatever you want.”

I looked at him.

“Mason, what I wanted was for both of you never to treat my life like it was yours to mess with in the first place.”

His hand trembled.

“I know it’s too late, but I really have changed.”

“Whether you change has nothing to do with me.”

Chloe began crying harder.

“Avery, you can’t just cut me off like this. We’ve known each other for years. I really did treat you well once.”

“That’s why I never took revenge on you.”

She froze.

My voice remained calm.

“I just don’t want you in my life anymore.”

Mason suddenly stood and moved as though he intended to hug me.

Elias stepped out from behind me and placed himself between us.

He did not touch Mason. He simply raised one hand, keeping him a step away.

“Ms. Grant does not wish to continue this conversation. Please leave.”

Mason looked at him, and for the first time, something other than panic appeared in his eyes.

It was as though he had finally realized that someone else now occupied a place beside me that he could no longer reach.

“Who are you?”

Elias’s voice remained even.

“I’m her curator, and I’m someone she trusts now.”

Mason’s face went pale.

I did not look at him again. I pressed the button on my radio and contacted gallery security.

Two security officers arrived quickly and escorted them toward the exit.

Chloe was still crying.

As the guards led Mason to the door, he suddenly looked back.

“Avery, I really have stopped making bets.”

The glass gallery doors closed, cutting off his voice.

I lowered my head and took a sip of tea.

It was exactly the right temperature.

At the opening-night dinner, Elias quietly moved the seafood platter away from me.

He did not ask who Mason and Chloe were or why I had been able to remain so calm.

He simply pushed the menu toward me.

“The reindeer stew is hot and doesn’t contain anything you’re allergic to. If you don’t want it, we can order something else.”

I looked at the menu and suddenly felt like laughing.

“How did you know I’m allergic to seafood?”

“It was listed in the information you submitted when you joined the studio.” He paused. “I was responsible for welcoming you. I should remember things like that.”

That simple word, should, carried more weight than many promises.

When the stew arrived, Elias took a document from his briefcase and placed it beside me.

“Paperwork for a work-based residence permit in Iceland.”