Chapter 30 Lucas on Display
Lucas on Display
Though it had taken at least an hour to convince Armand to put on the “bloody monkey suit” I’d bought him, I was the one taking the most time to get ready.
Perfection was imperative. I’d checked my hair twice, and I had to be physically restrained from throwing myself into the kitchen for some compulsive cooking therapy.
“What if everything goes wrong?” I whined to Armand, who was currently holding me tightly as a (semi-successful) method of keeping me still. “What if they decide the whole thing was a big mistake and they don’t want my pictures after all? What if—”
Armand’s lips quickly covered mine, cutting off my tirade. He kissed me gently for a moment before pulling back enough to whisper, “You look perfect as always, love, and you’ll be bloody brilliant tonight.”
I tried to take a calming breath, wondering briefly if I had time to do some yoga before we left. I was about to open my mouth to suggest it when Armand narrowed his eyes.
“No yoga either. We need to leave so the man of honor isn’t late to his own opening night.”
“You’re right, you’re right.” I blinked up into Armand’s encouraging eyes and smiled. “At least I have a gorgeous date—the night won’t be a total loss.”
My boyfriend smiled back, promptly causing my insides to squirm delightfully. “Aye, but I have you to blame for the suit, so if I collapse at any point from lack of oxygen, that’ll be on your conscience.”
“I accept that responsibility and the CPR that will accompany it.”
I allowed Armand to take my hand and lead me outside to the waiting car, trying again to remember proper breathing exercises so I wouldn’t be the one to pass out.
When we arrived at the Gallery Obscura, there were already dozens of well-dressed people exiting cabs and walking inside. One of them would be my mother. Steady on there, Barclay. I was vaguely aware of Armand parking the car and tugging my hand to get me to step outside.
The opening itself was a blur—there was a statement from Ichika, a short speech from me, and it was official—the Lucas Barclay photography exhibition Dead of Summer was now open to the public.
“See, not so bad,” said Armand as he wrapped a comforting arm around my waist, once I could be pulled away from the crowd of people wanting to speak with the photographer.
“Easy for you to say,” I replied after catching my breath. “You can stand there and look gorgeous. No one’s here to judge you.”
Armand shrugged. “But I do know you are not currently under a table.”
“You got me there.”
The photos Ichika and Jean-Michel had chosen surrounded us as we walked the gallery space.
Nerves aside, they came out really well, especially the newest additions that Armand had helped me pick.
I circled the room with Armand steadfast at my side, schmoozing and answering questions and smiling for photos and shaking hands.
Ichika had congratulated me on an impressive collection and debut turn-out, and Jean-Michel—plagued on both sides by his fellow fancy-shmancy people—toasted me from across the room, smiling demurely.
Maybe I did okay after all.
Mom did show up, as promised, and was dressed to the nines in a tight midnight blue number.
“I’m so proud of you, baby!” She hugged me one-handed so she could swipe a champagne flute from a passing waiter.
“This is incredible. I especially like the one of the dad and his kid. Oof—knocked the wind right out of me.”
I relaxed into a warm smile. “Me too.”
She pointedly glanced to my side. “Where’s Armand? I swear I picked him out of the crowd a few minutes ago.”
I turned, but Armand was, in fact, gone. “He hates crowds,” I explained, trying not to feel a bitter pang of disappointment. “Probably hiding out in the bathroom for a while.”
Mom yanked me down into an oxygen-stealing hug.
“I’m sure he’ll wander back this way. Now if you’ll excuse me—” She blew me a kiss and swept away in pursuit of brie puffs she was bound to regret eating.
I steadied myself with a deep breath. Surely it was one thing for Armand to escape and hide away when it was his own event, but he’d promised to be there for me tonight.
So where was he?