They stared each other a few long moments as if each waiting for the other to back down, to beg. But Billie didn’t say a word and her lips were one hard line, giving nothing away.
“In that case,” he said eventually, “consider this your eviction notice.”
“What?” Her eyes sparked with disbelief.
Lorna gasped. “No! Travis, please don’t punish Billie because of me.”
“Stay the fuck out of this,” he growled, and then spoke again to Billie. “I told you when I arrived I was going to sell the place, and it looks like nothing has changed. I want you to get yourself and your precious art out as soon as you can. Yesterday if possible.”
“You can’t do that! You have to give me proper notice. Please, Travis,” now she sounded like she was begging, “don’t do this to me. Don’t do this to all the people who display their work in my gallery.”
“What? Like her?” He thrust his thumb at Lorna. “Like I give a damn about any of them.”
Billie’s face crumpled, but he ignored the emotions that surged through him—the sympathy, the guilt, the need. He didn’t want to feel so strongly about her when she’d all but thrown his feelings in his face. He wasn’t asking much…just this one thing, and she hadn’t even considering relenting. What he was doing wasn’t exactly legal, but since when had that stopped him from doing anything he wanted? And even if Billie could afford a lawyer, she wouldn’t dare mess with him now that she knew what the Deacons were capable of. His brothers would have no objection to this, since they’d wanted to reclaim the gallery for the clubhouse from the beginning.
That couldn’t happen fast enough. He needed to erase all evidence of Billie from his building, which would hopefully help eradicate her from his mind.
He was more angry at himself than at her—angry that he’d let down his defenses and let go of the hard lessons life had taught him. He’d been well and truly screwed over, and evicting her from the building, from his life, was an act of self-preservation.
Not wanting to be with Billie and Lorna a second longer, he turned in his boots and stormed off back the way he came.
“Hey, watch where you’re going!” someone shouted at him as he careened around a corner. Travis didn’t even acknowledge the person, never mind apologize—he was too focused on getting back to the gallery and packing his things.
Rolley was at the piano when he arrived at the gallery, and Travis didn’t make eye contact as he hurried inside. He tried not to look around while he shoved all his belongings back into his bag, nor sniff the air, which was infused with the scent of strawberries, of Billie. Then, he put on his Deacons cut, tugged his bag high on his shoulder and walked next door to The Priory.
—
“I’m so sorry,” Lorna said, her voice shaky as she and Billie watched Travis storm off down the street.
Billie could barely bring herself to look at the woman. She couldn’t help wishing she hadn’t come here today, but she’d wanted to tell Lorna she couldn’t be a go-between for her. Lorna had understood, was overjoyed simply to hear that Travis had found love and was staying in New Orleans. She probably held hope that if he was nearby and living a fulfilled and happy life then maybe in time his heart would soften toward her as well, but Billie guessed after what had just happened right here on her doorstep that any such fantasies were rapidly evaporating.
Until a few moments ago, she’d harbored a similar fantasy because she hadn’t believed Travis could truly embrace the future until he’d made amends with his past. She wouldn’t have pushed him, though. Saxon had tried to control her and the last thing she’d wanted to do was try and change or control Travis. She’d thought he was different—that there was something special between them, more than just mind-blowing sex—but he’d just proved her wrong.
Maybe she was cutting off her nose to spite her face, maybe she’d been unfair considering Travis’s broken past with Lorna, but the insecurities she’d felt with Saxon had raised their ugly heads. If she’d given in to Travis’s demand that she end her business association with Lorna, he’d think he could walk all over her, and no way was she ever entering into that kind of relationship again.
Lorna tried again, this time reaching out and touching Billie’s arm. “Sweetheart, I’m sorry. But I think I might be able to help you find a new location for the gallery, and you’re always welcome to stay here.”
Not meaning to be harsh, Billie yanked away from Lorna’s touch. Travis had been the last to touch her and however much of a sad case it made her, she didn’t want anyone else to erase the memory of him. Besides, she couldn’t consider the future of the gallery now, not when her heart felt as if someone had poured boiling water over it.
“Thanks,” she managed, “but I can’t think about that at the moment.” And then she turned and fled, Baxter hurrying behind her.
When she’d left the gallery that morning, she’d had a smile on her face and a spring in her step. She’d never felt happier, freer, in her whole life. Now she’d hit rock bottom. Even the magic of New Orleans could do nothing to drag her out of this hole. As she walked back into her once happy place, although it appeared as before, all she felt was emptiness. She didn’t know whether to burst into tears or a tantrum.
Rolley was chatting amicably to a couple of young women, so obviously tourists judging by the Mardi Gras beads that hung around their necks, and something suddenly clicked in her head.
How had Travis known she’d be at Lorna’s place?
Even though he was in the middle of a possible sale, Billie marched right over to Rolley. “We’ve been evicted!” she shouted, gesturing around her, not caring that she was being unprofessional. If Travis had his way, there soon wouldn’t even be a gallery. “All this is over.”
A look of shock flashed across his face and the two women looked to each other, their eyes wide.
“What?” Rolley asked.
“Somehow Travis found me at Lorna’s today. What the fuck do you know about that?”
He blinked at her fury, no doubt taken aback by her swearing. Yes, she’d been hanging around a biker a lot lately and his language had rubbed off on her, but sometimes only curse words got the job done. This felt like one of those times.
Rolley’s eyes darted from side to side like some kind of skittish cat looking for an escape, announcing his guilt loud and clear.
“Rolley?” she demanded.
“I only told him the truth,” he spat. “The biker wanted to know where you were and I told him. I thought he’d be pleased his mom and his girlfriend were getting along so well.”
Billie glared at him, speechless. He knew the bad blood between Travis and Lorna would make Travis anything but happy with such a scenario. But it cut deep that Travis had believed Rolley without question. Although it was the truth, she wished he’d had a little bit of faith and trust in her. Then, none of this might be happening.
“Well, you were wrong,” she whispered, the fight whooshing out of her as reality sunk in and despair overwhelmed her. “And now this is finished.” As she gestured around them, tears welled in her eyes. She squeezed them shut a moment, willing the waterworks away, because they weren’t only for the imminent closure of her gallery and she was scared that if she started bawling about Travis, she’d never be able to stop.
“No.” Rolley shook his head, but Billie turned to look at the confused customers.
“Sorry, ladies, we’re closing early today. I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”
Rolley saw them out, locked the gate and came back to her. “I’ve been thinking, there must be something we can—”
“You too. Go!” she ordered, pointing right back at the gate. She needed to be alone. “I’m going inside to call the other artists, tell them the bad news. Get all your stuff and be gone before I come back out.”