Chapter 40
CHAPTER 40
Butterflies somersaulted in Raffo’s belly—and not the good kind. Just like the very first time she’d walked into the Connor Hart Gallery, her nerves were aflutter. But this time, years after that initial meeting, it wasn’t because she was anxious about meeting the hot new gallerist in town. It was because she was sleeping with his mother.
There was only one way through it—by doing it. She opened the door, greeted Connor’s assistant, and headed straight for his office.
“Hey.” Connor studied her from his chair, taking a long appraising look before rising for their usual hello kiss. “Good dinner?” he asked as he hugged her.
“The best.” God, this was weird. This was not the casual vibe Raffo enjoyed between them. She missed their easy friendship, but this awkwardness felt like a necessary toll for the happiness she’d found. The way Dylan looked at her, touched her, made every uncomfortable moment worth enduring. Still, sitting across from Connor now, she wished she could fast-forward through this particular growing pain.
“Let’s skip the usual details,” Connor said, settling back in his chair. Unlike her other gay male friends who avoided any mention of female intimacy, Connor had never been squeamish about such things.
“Words can’t express my gratitude, so I won’t even try,” Raffo said, attempting to lighten the mood with their usual banter. She thought it was the best way forward. The sooner they could laugh about it, the better. “But still.” This did need to be said. “Seriously, Con. Thank you. It means so much to me.”
“I want you to be happy, Raff, and as my boyfriend has been telling me every day since he went home, my happiness isn’t more important than my best friend’s, let alone my own mother’s.”
“I’m aware that this is not effortless for you.” Raffo took a seat at Connor’s desk.
“Murray’s very proud of me.” His smile didn’t quite reach his eyes, uncertainty lingering at its edges. “Especially of the little card with your very own rainbow heart on it. That was a lovely touch, even if I do say so myself.”
“I hope you had the required copyright to have that printed onto a card. I hear licensing deals go for a lot of money these days.” Raffo couldn’t suppress a grin.
“I got it directly from the artist who happens to be my friend.” His eyebrows danced with familiar mischief. “I’m also quite tight with her agent-slash-gallerist, who is awesome, by the way. Have you met him?”
“I have and you’re right. He is a remarkable dude.” Raffo hesitated, but only for a split second. “You should meet his mom, though.”
Connor burst into a chuckle. “His mom most certainly is something else as well.” He leaned over the desk. “She’s not exactly aging gracefully—getting it on with younger people and everything. Women, no less.”
“No fucking way! Women! You’d best get her head examined quickly.”
They both laughed it off and maybe that was the thing with a friendship like theirs—it was strong enough to withstand this kind of initial tension. They wouldn’t be going on family vacations any time soon, but their love for each other was big enough to adjust to this unique situation.
“We need to talk business, Raff,” Connor said. “We have a job to do. Your Chicago show is approaching swiftly.”
“I was thinking,” Raffo relaxed into her chair. She could talk business, which equaled discussing her work, with Connor all day long. “I might have quite a few new pieces of work to show by then, after all.” Ever since her night with Dylan, Raffo hadn’t been able to shake the initially preposterous idea of a painting of her and Dylan together. It was what she wanted to paint most of all and if she’d learned one thing the past few months, it was not to ignore that particular persistent voice inside of her—no matter how absurd it might sound at first.
Connor reclined, amusement flickering across his face. “New work, huh? You mean in the ‘I’m Crazy About Your Mom Collection’?”
Raffo couldn’t help but chuckle. “Let’s just say the muse has been generous.”
“Do I even want to know?” Connor raised an eyebrow.
“Don’t worry, I won’t be painting your mom as Venus rising from the sea,” Raffo teased. “But I’ve had some very inspiring ideas…”
Raffo was certain this would pique his interest, despite the subject of her new work.
“Go on.” Connor nodded.
“I’m thinking of a series that captures moments of transition,” Raffo explained, still feeling a touch insecure but her enthusiasm growing by the second. “Those in-between states where everything’s changing but nothing’s settled yet. Like dawn breaking, or the moment just before a storm hits.”
Connor gave her an encouraging look. He lived for conversations like this. Nonetheless, she considered her next words carefully.
“Dylan’s at this incredible point in her life. She’s rediscovering herself, embracing new experiences. It’s like watching someone emerge from a cocoon. I want to capture that energy, that sense of transformation.” The words tumbled out easier than expected, fueled by the same passion that had kept her up half the night sketching. It wasn’t just Dylan’s transformation she wanted to capture—it was her own too, this shift from seeing Dylan as forbidden to seeing her as possibility incarnate.
The last traces of Connor’s hesitation melted away. “That actually sounds really fucking amazing.” He sent her a smile. “Even though this probably means more naked portraits of my mom.”
“Almost certainly.” Raffo grinned. “But I’ll paint them so even you can look at them.”
They shared a laugh, all of the earlier tension dissipating.
“To going places.” Connor picked up a half-empty water bottle from his desk. “Together.”
When Connor arrived, Dylan held him in an embrace that lasted longer than either of them was accustomed to. She must have done something right to have raised a son like that. A son who could accept that she was dating his best friend. Though ‘dating’ hardly described what she and Raffo had now. As far as she was concerned, they were in a relationship. That’s what it felt like—like the most glorious, proper, satisfying relationship Dylan had been in since those early years with Connor’s father.
“Raffo’s inspiration is through the roof,” Connor said as he walked into the house. “She’s painting like they sometimes show in those completely unrealistic movies where an artist creates a work of genius in twenty-four hours.” His lips curved into an enigmatic grin. “If I had known it was going to be like this when you got together, I wouldn’t have objected so much.” Dylan couldn’t read whether he was posturing, joking, or something in between.
“Sit, darling. Let me get you a drink.” Dylan needed Connor relaxed for the Raffo-related conversation ahead. “I have that kombucha you like.”
“I’ll have a glass of wine. I took an Uber. It’s been a week.” He slumped against the chair, exhaling with theatrical weariness.
“Busy at the gallery?” Dylan poured them both a glass of white wine.
“I can hardly complain but suddenly every up-and-coming artist wants space in my gallery. It’s very much the Raffo-Shah effect.”
Dylan handed him the wine and sat opposite her son at the kitchen table. He looked tired, his eyes small and his skin paler than usual.
“Maybe you should take a break. Go to the lake house with Murray.”
“I can’t take a break now, Mom. Work is nuts.”
“That’s precisely when you need one.” Dylan didn’t expect her son to take her advice, but it didn’t stop her from giving it—she had learned this particular lesson the hard way many times over. “Even just for a few days.”
“I might just hire a new co-worker instead.”
“Really? That’s great.” Dylan bit back the words: if it’s financially viable. She would have inquired about the gallery’s finances without qualms before she’d lost half a million dollars, but she still didn’t entirely feel as though she had the right to ask.
“Raffo’s new pieces will easily fetch three times what her previous works sold for. Minimum.”
Dylan couldn’t possibly stop herself from asking the next question. “Which pieces are we talking about exactly?”
Connor chuckled. “We’re calling it the ‘I’m So In Love With My Best Friend’s Mom Collection’, so yeah, it’s all you, Mom. You. And Raffo herself as well, surprisingly.”
Raffo showed Dylan what she was working on all the time. Dylan knew exactly what—and who—she was painting. It was an essential part of why they’d gotten so close so quickly in Big Bear and it continued to be the case in Los Angeles. But Dylan stayed out of the commercial aspect of Raffo’s art. It wasn’t her business.
Dylan didn’t really know what to say to her son about that. Her stomach performed an unexpected somersault.
“Does it bother you?” she asked.
“Nah.” Connor took a large sip of wine. “I’m still getting used to it but it helps that Raffo’s so… Raffo, you know?”
Dylan knew exactly what Connor meant. She also beamed with pride a little.
“But she’s really into you.” Connor blew out some air, as though he still couldn’t believe that his hot artist friend had feelings for his mom. Dylan understood—some days, she could hardly believe it herself. But there was no doubt about how much Raffo was into her . “If Mia ever sees this new work, she might never recover.”
The mention of Mia’s name didn’t jolt Dylan that much. But it was a good enough segue into what Dylan wanted to talk about with her son.
“Speaking of Mia,” she said a little clumsily, although Dylan mentioning Raffo’s ex certainly seemed to capture Connor’s full attention. “She and Raffo are selling their house and Raffo made me an offer.”
Connor’s eyes grew wide. “Please, tell me whatever you’re going to say next doesn’t include the words U-Haul and moving in together.”
“What?” Dylan shook her head. “No, we’re not moving in together, darling. That would be a bit soon.”
“Phew.” He pretended to wipe the sweat off his brow. “You never know with lesbians. They’re very fast-moving that way.”
Dylan waved off his comment and continued what she really wanted to say. “Raffo has offered to invest the money from the sale of her and Mia’s house into my new agency.”
“Ha,” Connor said. “So you are U-Hauling, just not in the traditional way.”
Dylan ignored his comment. “Before I make a decision, I wanted to get your input.” Her son’s opinion on this was important to her for many reasons. And she no longer wanted to hide anything significant from him.
“Raffo can do whatever she likes with her money.” Connor stared into his wine glass.
“But do you think I can accept it? That I should ?” Dylan’s instantaneous ‘no’ had changed into a maybe over the past twenty-four hours. She had called Gustavo back and asked the agency for a few more days to decide. Dylan was fifty-fifty on whether she should let Raffo invest in her new business—hence her need for a second opinion. She traced the rim of her wine glass, remembering how Raffo had presented the idea—not with grand gestures or flowery words, but with that quiet intensity that made Dylan feel both seen and slightly unmoored. Like standing at the edge of something vast and promising.
“You’re asking me?” Connor seemed a little taken aback.
“Yes.” Dylan nodded.
“Why?”
“Because you’re my son and I value your input on things, but also because I know you’ve been worried about me since my, um, disastrous investment and this doesn’t feel like something I should do without consulting you.” Dylan hadn’t yet mentioned the obvious. “And because Raffo is your friend and, well, I want to make sure she’s not just offering me the money because she’s so… into me .”
“She hasn’t talked to me about it,” Connor said. “She probably thinks it’s between you and her.”
“I’d just like to know what you think, darling.”
“I think that Raffo is so in love with you, she would give everything she has to make you happy. I think that neither one of you are thinking very straight right now, but that doesn’t necessarily have to be a bad thing.” He sent her a soft smile that reminded Dylan of when he was the sweetest little boy. “If I’ve learned one thing from this whole debacle it’s that it’s okay to just go with the flow. I tried to resist you and Raffo being together and it didn’t make anyone happier. I could advise you not to take Raffo’s money, but to what end? You’re both intelligent adults and I’m sure you would have the necessary paperwork drawn up to protect yourselves against whatever might happen in the future. But if you’re going to be together, then why wouldn’t you let her invest in your start-up? It’s pretty obvious that you don’t want to take another managing job.”
Dylan absorbed her son’s surprisingly mature advice. She took a sip of her wine, contemplating his words.
“I suppose this means you’re officially more grown-up than I am. Should I start coming to you for life advice now?”
Connor snorted. “God no. I’m pretty sure giving your mom your blessing to date your best friend violates some universal law of nature.”
“Ah, yes,” Dylan deadpanned. “Newton’s lesser-known fourth law of motion: A son shall not advise his mother on matters of the heart, especially not when it involves his best friend, lest the fabric of space-time unravel.”
Connor grinned. “Exactly. I’m just trying to prevent the collapse of the universe. You’re welcome.”
Dylan smiled warmly at him. “My hero. Saving the world, one awkward mother-son conversation at a time.”
“It’s a tough job,” Connor sighed dramatically, “but someone’s got to do it.”
They shared a look before breaking into quiet chuckles.
As their laughter subsided, Dylan reached across the table and squeezed her son’s hand. “In all seriousness, thank you, Connor. Your support is so important to me.”
Connor squeezed back. “Just don’t make me regret it by walking in on you two making out on the couch or something.”
Dylan rolled her eyes. “Please. We’re grown women, not teenagers. We have perfectly good bedrooms for that sort of thing.”
“Mom!” Connor shouted, his face a mix of horror and amusement.
Dylan smirked. “What? I thought we were being straightforward with each other now.”
Connor shook his head, laughing despite himself.
They clinked glasses, both smiling, comfortable in the knowledge that no matter how much things changed, their mother-son bond remained unbreakable.