Chapter 31
31
Dexter
I’ve always known Lucy to be beautiful. From the moment I met her, I was hooked, with her deep brown eyes and her perfectly round face with full lips that felt like a flame and I was a helpless little moth. I’ve always been attracted to her, and over the past month, that attraction’s gotten stronger. Something that’s becoming harder and harder to ignore. And now, watching her dressed in a sleek black dress that wraps around her curves and the top criss-crossing across her chest to wrap around her neck makes me want to fall on my knees. And those shoulders. I didn’t even think shoulders could be sexy, but I want to build a goddamn monument for hers.
She has her short hair styled in waves, and she’s standing over the sink in the bathroom to hook on some gold earrings. She catches me watching her from the doorway and smiles. “What?” she asks.
“You look very pretty.”
She saunters toward me, her shoes clicking on the hard floor. When she reaches me, our eyes at level with the added height of her sexy heels, she drapes her arms over my shoulders. “You don’t look so bad yourself, handsome.” She pauses, peering down at the floor before guardedly looking back up at me. “The heels don’t bother you?”
I jerk my head back in confusion. “Are you kidding me? They’re my favorite part of this whole thing you put together. That, and your shoulders,” I add, not caring if she finds it weird that I like her shoulders of all things. I lower my lips to the hollow dip above her collarbone and place a gentle kiss before adding, “Why?”
She shrugs. “Some guys don’t like that I’m…a little taller than most women,” she answers. “When I wear heels, it usually makes me taller than them, or at least the same height, and…”
“Boys,” I throw in, and she laughs shyly. I flick my eyes to the deep red painted on her lips. “I would kiss you right now, but I’d hate to ruin that lipstick.”
“That, and we’re late.” She pats my chest and briskly walks past me before reaching for her small purse on the couch. “You ready?” she asks.
I pluck the keys off the small dish near the doorway and jingle them. “Ready whenever you are.”
“Oh,” Lucy exclaims softly. “I need my memory card.”
Tonight’s the night of Janet’s gallery’s show. Janet already texted me twice today to confirm Lucy and I are still going, the same amount of times Lucy reminded me this morning about the show. Since we have to take a cab across the bridge, we decided to grab a quick bite and head to the show after. So this is basically a date. I mean, not basically. It is a date. And for some reason, I feel nervous. Topped off with butterflies in my stomach and a lingering giddiness I can’t seem to get rid of. It’s another item added to the growing list of coupley things we’ve been doing. Like when Lucy had an early day from work two days ago and had lunch with me, meeting me in the lobby of my office while we opted for a small sandwich shop and iced coffee. Or when we went on a quick grocery run for paper towels and Cholula hot sauce and spent our time perusing various breakfast meats after Lucy told me she’d been craving maple sausage links only to realize we forgot the paper towels once we got back home. With each coupley thing we’ve been doing, I have to remind myself to not get too comfortable with the notion of being one-half of a couple. All of this is very temporary. Not temporary in a maybe sort of way but temporary in a definite sort of way.
Lucy returned from her room, her bulky camera bag looped over her shoulder and her small clutch in her hands. “Not so flattering for this fancy little outfit,” she says, gesturing toward her bag.
I take it from her and hang it on my shoulder. “I got it.”
Her brows furrow. “You sure?”
“Of course.”
She smiles and smooths her hand down her dress. “Thank you.”
After a trip across the bridge and a short meal with a few small appetizer plates to fill our stomachs, we make our way to the show. Once inside the gallery, we’re greeted by Janet. She’s swapped out her chunky oversized sweater for a simple navy blue dress and heels. A surgical mask covers half of her face, a precaution her doctor insisted on if she decides to go out in a large public area, and she’s wearing her hair prosthetic, which looks pretty damn close to how her hair was before chemo took it all away.
“You guys came!” she exclaims, pulling Lucy in for a deep embrace.
“I told you we would,” I say from behind Lucy. Janet hugs me next and ushers us inside toward where the cluster of people is gathered in front of various paintings hung throughout the gallery.
“That’s Avery.” Janet points to a girl who looks like she’s still in high school standing in the middle of a small crowd, where she’s smiling politely and nodding along to the conversations around her. She looks timid, a little uncomfortable with the amount of attention she’s getting. “She’s the artist I was talking to you about.”
“How old is she?” I ask, dipping my head down a little .
“Nineteen,” she answers. “She’s still really new to the scene, but she’s doing such amazing work.” Janet flags her toward us, and she breaks away from the crowd. “Avery,” she says when Avery reaches her side. “This is my brother Dexter and his girlfriend Lucy.”
Lucy eyes me when Janet says the word “girlfriend,” but that moment passes when Avery extends a nervous hand in our direction. Lucy takes it, offering a soft smile with her gentle handshake. “It’s nice to meet you,” she says calmly, without any overexcitement or intensity. “Janet has told us a lot about your work.”
Avery blushes a bit and looks at Janet.
“I actually asked Lucy to take some pictures tonight,” Janet says, reaching up to squeeze Avery’s arm. “Just something to document your first big show.”
Avery turns to Lucy and smiles. “Thank you,” she says gratefully.
“Of course,” Lucy answers. “And I’ll be in complete stealth mode,” she adds. “You won’t even know I’m here. Candid shots are my favorite. There’s such a genuine feeling to them, and I think it’d be perfect as a little memento for tonight.”
Avery looks relieved when Lucy tells her this. But before we can say anything else, Avery and Janet are pulled to another part of the gallery by more people. They walk away, and Lucy retrieves her camera from the bag hung over my shoulder. We don’t know exactly where Avery’s paintings are located, but we find them fairly quickly. Her name is labeled on them, and after some browsing, we discover that her paintings have a very specific style that translates into all of her work.
Lucy takes a few pictures, catching people admiring and discussing in soft gallery voices the style of Avery’s paintings and the color schematic she uses that’s a bit unconventional but striking in contrast. She gets a few of Avery talking to people in front of her paintings, laughing and chatting a bit livelier, noticing that she’s growing a bit more comfortable and coming out of her shell as the night goes on.
Lucy’s a complete pro. She moves artfully, working around the lighting and chaos like it doesn’t deter her from getting the shot she’s looking for. When she quickly shows me a glimpse of her handiwork, she smiles proudly at my reaction. It looks stunning. With the gallery lights shining a spotlight on the main focal point, making it pop against the low shadows around it. But what stands out the most is the reaction of an onlooker admiring the artwork. She’s staring up at the piece of art like she’s been transfixed by the beauty of the colors and shapes, and it’s conveyed through the image Lucy captured like I was there to see it for myself.
As she moves along from painting to painting, she urges me to leave her be so she can work and even tasks me with bringing Janet a drink and a plate of some cheese and crackers from the small bar in the far corner. I do as I’m told and catch Janet just as she’s stepping away from making her rounds through the crowd.
“The boss said to bring you something,” I say, lifting a small glass of white wine and the plate.
She lowers her mask and keeps a watchful eye on the crowd around her. “And the boss being…”
“Lucy.”
“Ah, of course.” She nods and takes my offerings.
“Thanks for inviting us,” I say as I watch her practically inhale a cracker. Looks like she’s getting a bit of her appetite back. “Lucy’s having fun,” I add.
“Thank you for bringing her,” she says, nodding her head in Lucy’s direction, where she has her camera pointed at us. She pulls her face away from behind the lens and smiles. I gesture a small wave, and she wiggles her fingers at me. “I like her, Dex.”
I nod. “Yeah.”
“I like her a lot,” she adds.
We stay quiet, the weight of her words settling around us. I haven’t kept anything from my sister. She knows the agreement Lucy and I settled on, the impermanence of our situation and what feels like a contract that can’t be reversed or revisited. Yet when she tells me something so simple like how much she likes Lucy, not just for me but as a person, it feels like hope is weaved into her words. Like maybe we can hash out a new deal, one that won’t end with a slew of promises ready to be broken with thousands of miles between us.
“Avery won’t stop thanking me for having Lucy take her pictures,” Janet says, breaking our silence. “She’s really shy and didn’t want to keep pulling out her phone or stop people to take pictures with her, but this is her first show and she wanted to remember it. And Lucy’s really on stealth mode. I don’t think Avery’s even noticed that she has a little paparazzo lurking from the shadows.”
“Yeah,” I respond. “She’s pretty amazing.”
Lucy caught on to that, Avery’s shyness and her difficulty in approaching people for something as simple as a picture. That’s why she said she would go throughout the night unnoticed, so Avery didn’t have to worry about having a camera shoved in her face. She has this way of accepting people for who they are without pushing them beyond their comfort zone. She’s done that with me every time Janet’s illness is brought up, and now she’s doing it with a complete stranger. She didn’t force Avery into situations where she would have to take awkward pictures. And every time I’ve wanted to expose more of myself to her, it was on my terms, whatever I was comfortable offering. It’s no wonder things feel so effortless with her.
Janet finishes the last cube of cheese on her plate and looks around the room. “I’m going to finish up with some of the sales and head home.” I turn around to look at the span of the gallery and find the crowd of people has dwindled down to only a handful lingering throughout some of the open spaces. “You guys should head home too.”
“How about you? We can wait.” The “we” slipped, and the significance of it passes through me with a hitch. An incredibly hard to ignore, yet brief hitch.
“Charles should be here any minute,” she says, looking down at her watch. “He had to stay at the office a little late. You know, to make up for some of the time he took off. But he said he’d meet me here to take me home.” Just then, we see Charles walk through the doors of the gallery and spot Janet. “Ah, speak of the devil.”
“Okay,” I answer, finding Lucy across the room chatting it up with a bartender while she waits on a drink. He smiles a little too widely at her, and she smiles back, tugging at the strap of her camera hanging around her neck. “I guess we’ll call it a night too,” I say to Janet while I keep my eyes across the room.
Janet’s gaze follows mine, and I can practically feel her shake her head next to me. “Alrighty, lover boy,” she says, patting my back. “Go get your girl.”
I press my lips together, not even bothering to hide my undeniable jealous side, and swoop down to hug my sister just as Charles approaches our side. I nod a quick hello in his direction and walk my way to the bar.
“You have to check out the Met while you’re here,” I hear the bartender tell Lucy with a bounce of excitement in his voice. His hands are braced along the counter he’s leaning against, and I fully notice the way his eyes trail the length of her body. “They have an amazing photography exhibit. As a photographer?—”
He stops and clears his throat when he notices me sidle up to Lucy. I wrap my arm around her waist, and she turns to face me. “Hey!” she exclaims as her eyes light up and her smile brightens. “How’s Janet?” she asks .
“She’s got some things she needs to take care of in her office, but she’s going to head out after that. Charles just got here, so he’s going to take her home.”
The bartender slides a drink in front of Lucy—a Coke, it looks like—and he eyes her carefully. Lucy nods a polite thank you to him and takes a long sip from the skinny black straw. “I got a little thirsty,” she explains. “And I wanted something a little sweet. Want some?” She offers the straw she just drank out of in my direction, and I take a sip.
She grins at me, and I realize it doesn’t matter if this bartender was flirting with her. Whether or not he offered a little extra attention in hopes to gain some of hers. Because she wasn’t going to give it. He’s not the one she’s smiling at the way she’s smiling at me right now. He’s not the one she offered a sip of her drink, not even bothering to add a fresh straw or asking if I mind exchanging germs. She probably wouldn’t have given him the time of day even if she were wearing a clock necklace like Flavor Flav had it not been for the necessity for some sort of refreshment on her end.
“You ready to go home?” I ask, taking the camera from her and gently placing it in the bag I’ve been carrying all night.
“God, yes,” she breathes. “I have about an hour left in these heels before I Cinderella the hell out of them.”
“Did you just turn Cinderella into a verb?”
“I did, didn’t I?” she answers with a proud smile.
My brow shoots up. “That takes a special kind of talent.”
She smiles, and her nose scrunches as she takes one last long sip of her drink. She turns the straw in my direction, letting me have the rest, and she places it on the bar top. “Thank you, Matt,” she says politely to the bartender. He’s not wearing a name badge or anything, so he must have told her his name. He probably even weaved in some lie about how he’s not really a bartender but an actor about to make his big break on Broadway while using some cheesy pick-up line like, “So…you come here often? ”
“Yeah, thank you, Matt,” I add sardonically before we turn to leave. My hand rests on her lower back—okay, maybe a little lower, hovering closer to ass region—and we leave the gallery.
Once outside, Lucy turns to me. “Are you going to pee on me next, Mr. Jealous?”
I give a crooked smile, looking equally pleased and amused. So she did notice. “Now, that’s just unsanitary,” I answer. “How about we just get my name tattooed across your chest? You know, in big block letters.”
She gives an assertive, unyielding shake of her head. “Nuh-uh,” she says firmly. “It’s olde English font or bust.”
“Anything you want, baby.”
We walk in silence, our hands lingering on each other and the city sounds mingling with the clicks of our footsteps. And a thought occurs to me. Something that makes me rethink why I acted like a possessive caveman who actually thought peeing on this woman wouldn’t have been a bad idea. “If, uh, that was a little too much, I’m sorry.”
She turns to face me with an adorable tilt in her head and a confused blink.
“I mean,” I continue, “you, we—me and you—it’s not like we’re…I mean, I guess it’s a little complicated between us, and if you wanted to talk to other people or?—”
“Dex,” she interrupts in a pleading voice.
“I just wanted to tell you I’m sorry if that was inappropriate.”
She stops walking and turns to face me, giving my hand two quick tugs to get my attention. “Dexter,” she says, leaning into me. “You’re the only person I want to be ‘talking to.’”
I feel like a slew of bright hot fireworks are bursting inside my chest. “Yeah?”
She nods, her smile matching mine. And then she shrugs a shoulder with that sly smirk she has when she’s about to tease me with something impish and playful. “But I kinda like you all jealous and a little overprotective.”
“Oh, do you?”
She giggles. “It’s cute watching you get all huffy and puffy like you’re about to ram horns with another man.”
“I did not get all huffy and puffy!”
She tilts her head back and laughs, and I swear I fall harder for this woman.