“Moving?” Ralphie butted in and I looked at him.

He was pale and I felt that hard, hot thing start forming in my chest again.

“Moving,” Aaron (again!) answered.

“You can’t… I don’t understand –” Ralphie stuttered.

“Ralphie, we’ll talk about it later,” I said quietly, trying to ignore the thing in my chest and the current in the air.

“Ralphie? Is this Ralph Mankowicz?” Aaron asked.

“Aaron, please, maybe we can go –” I tried damage control.

“Yes, I’m Ralph Mankowicz,” Ralphie answered, ignoring my effort at damage control.

“I have some paperwork for you to sign, son,” Aaron replied. “It’s in the car, I’ll just –”

“No!” I cut in, “Aaron, can we –” I started again but Ralphie interrupted me.

“Paperwork?”

“Yes, to sign over the gallery,” Aaron, ever informative, answered.

The air in the room was now heavy, tense and electric and I knew everyone was watching, listening and not liking what they heard.

Why, I will ask again, was everything in my life so… fucking… difficult?

“Sign over the gallery?” Ralphie repeated.

“Yes, to you and a Mr. Leon Simmons,” Aaron told him and his gaze came to me, heavy, wiry, white eyebrows raised in question. “Isn’t that right?”

I didn’t answer Aaron because Ralphie was looking at me, his eyes were wide, there was confusion written plain on his face, right alongside what looked an awful lot like hurt.

My heart squeezed.

“Ralphie, we’ll talk about this later,” I tried again, my voice quiet.

“Later? You want to talk about it later? You’re moving and signing over the gallery to Buddy and me and you want to talk about it later? What’s this all about?” Ralphie didn’t feel like letting me try, he felt like being dramatic (as usual) and angry (not as usual).

“Let’s go somewhere else –” I tried yet again.

“No, I want to know, right now, what this is all about,” Ralphie replied, arms crossing on his chest.

I swallowed then to get it over with I told him on a rush, “I’m giving you and Buddy the gallery, as a thank you for all you’ve done for me.”

He stared at me, face shocked. Then I watched as his eyes went hard.

I thought he’d be pleased.

He was absolutely not.

“You’re joking,” he breathed.

“No, I want you to know how much I appreciate everything… all that… just everything.”

“You could do that by not moving to f**king Greece,” he snapped back.

I blinked.

“What?” I asked.

“I don’t want your f**king gallery. I want you and not via e-mail from your new life on the Med. I want you here. Close. Where we can drink lemon drops and watch Veronica Mars.”

I couldn’t think what to say. I thought certain sure he’d love owning the gallery. He was good at what he did. The best. He’d be his own boss. He’d make loads more money.

He must not get it.

“Ralphie, I’m not sure you understand. I don’t just own the gallery, I own the building. You and Buddy will get it all. This is LoDo, prime real estate,” I informed him.

That’s when Ralphie leaned in and shouted, “Fuck the building!”

I winced.

Apparently he got it.

He just didn’t want it.

“Ralphie, please quiet down,” I whispered.

“I will not be quiet. I cannot believe you’re moving to Greece. That’s… that’s insane.”

Now hang on a second!

“It’s not insane,” I shot back.

“It is! Who moves to Greece? Do you know a single soul who’s moved to Greece?” He didn’t give me a chance to reply before he continued, “No? Me neither. No one moves to Greece. Goes there. Yes. Gets laid. Definitely. Drinks ouzo. Lots of it. Gets a sunburn. Of course! But you don’t move there!” He was still shouting. “And giving me a building? A building! Are you nuts?”

Seriously, this was getting right on my nerves!

Why wouldn’t anyone let me be nice?

“I owe you so much, I had to do something!” I shouted back.

Ralphie threw his hands high into the air. “You are nuts,” he yelled. “This is what friends do! There is no ‘owe’. Someday, my precious Momma’s going to die or I’m going to get a hangnail and you’ll be there for me. That’s how you give back. You don’t give out lavish Christmas bonuses, expensive birthday gifts and buildings, for f**k’s sake!”

Oh my God!

“I thought you liked my birthday presents!” I yelled back.

“I do but only if they’re given from the heart, not to buy my friendship,” he shot back.

It felt like he slapped me right across the face.

I flinched and took a step back. That step forced me into something solid and, breathing heavily, my heart beating in my throat, the hot knot burning in my chest, I turned and looked up to see Hector.

Oh my.

The muscle was jumping in his cheek, his face was stony but his eyes were on Ralphie.

“You done?” he clipped at Ralphie.

“No,” Ralphie snapped.

“You are for now,” Hector replied and without hesitation he leaned in, took my hand then dragged me through our stunned audience, through the rest of the crowd, down my back hall to my office. He threw open the door, flipped on the switch and pulled me in with a controlled violence that sent me flying several steps into my office. He slammed the door behind us.

I stopped in the middle of the room, turned and looked at him.

That knot in my chest expanded, searing painfully wider through my chest and lungs and just this close to my heart.

Hector stood in front of the door, eyes beyond scorching. I didn’t know what beyond scorching was but whatever it was, his eyes were doing it.

“Were you gonna tell me?” he asked, voice low and vibrating but his words were enunciated perfectly clearly.

“No,” I answered and his eyes flashed dangerously. “Yes,” I went on quickly and there was another flash. “I couldn’t make up my mind,” I finished lamely.

“Why?” he snapped.