Chapter 25
Chapter Twenty-Five
It turns out Will is having an existential crisis, which I dive into for deep analysis when I’m back home after the pub. In my room, I crash onto the bed and scroll through my latest messages.
Does keeping our dating secret from work also mean keeping it secret from my family too? x
Will texts. Full punctuation, everything. Like a maniac.
I respond in kind. In fact, I take things to the next level because I’m mature like that.
According to my rulebook, the Dylan Guide to Dating, this doesn’t fall into a fake dating situation, so you’re good to go. Paragraph 3, sub clause b. It’s authentic dating, away from our place of employment. Secrets need not apply
You have a guidebook?
3rd unabridged edition. Who doesn’t?
There’s a long pause. I can imagine Will’s irresistible brow furrows as he tries to figure out if I’m serious or joking. He should know better by now than to wonder. My brand is nothing if not consistent.
Then I take pity on him in the growing pause.
Of course say whatever you want about me to your family
I feel like after a third date, I should confess. Gray’s been worried I’m off the radar.
I’d hate for him to think I’ve stolen you
I suppose I’m wondering if you want a fourth date. I’ve actually lost count of our dates.
Things got blurry after date three, call everything from last Friday one long date. You want a fourth date?
Then I hesitate, unsure whether to remind him I’m leaving soon.
Technically, this is poking the bear. But hopefully if I dangle the offer like a carrot he’ll go for it.
I mean, meeting his brother isn’t the sort of behavior of someone who wants to end things, logically speaking.
It’s anti-break-up, though again, we can’t break up if we’re not officially going out.
What do you want to happen?
There’s what I want and then there’s what’s reasonable.
I should have known better than to expect him to let go of his internal struggle so easily.
Maybe Gray can talk some sense into him, into at least enjoying the moment, even if it has to end sooner rather than later.
May as well have fun if it’s on offer. If I’ve learned anything, it’s that life is short.
I’m all ears
I want you, Dylan. X
I gulp.
I want you too but you know and I know that I’ll be leaving. You’ve said before you don’t want to get hurt. I don’t want to mess you around but I also think you deserve some fun too
I think either way when you leave it’s going to hurt. The truth is I want to be greedy and see you for a fourth date. Maybe you can meet Gray properly? Like drinks on Friday night.
Cue intrigue. What’s he said about me to his brother?
Sounds cool to me if it works for you. I’m totally up for it
It does.
Then we have a plan
After we exchange more details on the plan, I flop back in my bed, curious to know more about Will. The problem is the more I know, the more I want him. Which is going to make the end all the harder.
Lily’s divide-and-conquer strategy is intense.
On Thursday and Friday, Will’s been playing baller bank guy, dishing out the cash stipends in envelopes to the incoming art couriers.
Clearly, that’s his forté as the economist. They’ve come to collect or accompany high-value exhibits from the deinstallation of the previous show to return loans to their home museums or galleries.
Meanwhile, I’ve been helping the exhibition technicians play the match-the-crate game, coordinating the numbers from our exhibition spreadsheet and locations to the actual exhibits, then doing the condition reports alongside the art couriers to satisfy both of our insurers as the objects get packed up to go home or on tour.
There’re two teams of techs working at the same time at different ends of the gallery, and I’m back and forth between them, as is Lily.
Then Will also joins in the melee, too, when a third tech crew starts.
Lily wasn’t kidding when she said it would be all hands on deck in well-timed, synchronized chaos as led by our project manager.
It’s a blur of paperwork and packing materials and people.
Friday goes much the same way, except to add to the fun, we now have the incoming exhibits starting to arrive at the third work area.
Will and I have barely a chance to talk to each other on either day.
We work late on Thursday night and have early starts on Friday.
The only good news is we’re due to finish at the usual time tonight, though we’re scheduled to work tomorrow as well as the trade-off.
We’re due to meet Gray at a bar along the Thames at 6:00 p.m., which is something I’m looking forward to.
What I don’t expect is Will to come find me in the prep room in the middle of the afternoon when I’ve come to find more packing tape. There’s a box of tape somewhere in here. It’s a blissful moment of peace away from the bustle of the gallery.
“Hey.” My expression softens at the sight of him. He’s in a pale pink-and-white striped shirt, sleeves rolled up. Then I frown slightly because he looks concerned. “How’s it going?”
“Going.” Will nods, looking weary. He runs a hand through his hair, and I fight the temptation to muss up his hair even more.
Or to jump him like last Friday night when we had the museum to ourselves.
It’s hard to believe that was only a week ago.
“I’m wondering if you know where we put the box with the Vivienne Westwood loan. ”
I shrug. “It’ll be on the exhibition tracker.”
“Mm, about that.” He gives a surreptitious glance around, though we’re the only ones down here. He lowers his voice. “It’s not.”
“It’s not?” I blink at Will. “What do you mean? Everything’s on the spreadsheet.”
He groans, shaking his head. “I’m telling you, it’s not there.”
“Want me to show you where it is on the spreadsheet?”
“Dylan.” Will fixes me with a stern look. “I know exactly where it should be on the spreadsheet,” he whispers with crisp irritation. “And believe me, it’s not there. Plus, our laptops are up in the gallery.”
“Well, fuck.”
“Shhh.”
I shhh for a moment long enough to frown at him. Will’s turned away, and he has started to hurriedly flip through the binders that hold the duplicate copies of the transfer receipts for each item we’ve brought in.
“You think it’s in there? The location isn’t going to be—”
“Please help, Dylan. This is serious.”
“I know it is.” I frown at him, bristling. Then I have to admit to myself it’s truly serious if we can’t find an exhibit. Especially that exhibit. “Is it one part of the collection you can’t find or—”
“The whole lot.”
“Well, fuck.” I glance up at him from the binder, twisting my mouth. “That’s a problem.”
He gives me a dark look, rolling his eyes. “Rather.”
“Hey. Don’t blame me. Are you blaming me?” I ask, my eyebrows lifting. He can’t seriously be blaming me. “What’s going on here?”
“Keep your voice down.”
I roll my eyes in turn and grab another binder in an effort to appease Will, even though I’m sure it’s going to be futile.
There’s no reason the storage location info at the museum would be on the transfer receipt.
At any rate, we’ve been filing the paperwork alphabetically by collection.
Logically, it should start with V for Vivienne Westwood, but it could also be W for Westwood.
Shit. The exhibits could also be under C for clothing or P for punk collection, now that I think about it.
We hurriedly flip through reams of paper in binders.
“One of us has to go upstairs soon. Lily will wonder where we are if everything grinds to a halt in the gallery without us there,” I point out softly.
Will looks about ready to pull his hair out. I put a hand on his forearm. “Hey.”
His head snaps up as he stares intently at me.
“It’s gonna be okay. It’s just misplaced somewhere. And look. Here’s the receipt.” I turn the page of the binder in front of him. “It should be under ‘We,’ but looks like it’s at the end of the Ws.”
Will stares down miserably on the page, turning it back and forth. There’re signatures from both lender and the museum as the recipient, and the date, but nothing about the location in the museum, as I expected. “Shit.”
“We’ll get this sorted out. It’ll be fine. I insist.”
At last, Will relents for a moment, giving me a sheepish smile. “I’m sorry. You’re right.”
I brighten. “Of course I am. Listen. Create a diversion. I’m sure Lily’s too distracted to know—does she know?”
“No. She doesn’t know yet.”
“Good. We can look tomorrow. We’ll find it then.”
“This whole place is filled with boxes and crates.” Will shakes his head, glum. “It’s like a needle in a haystack.” He closes the binder with a heavy thud. If only it didn’t sound so ominous.