Chapter 27 #2
She was holding a black garment bag and wearing her lime green coat. There were shadows under her eyes, but she’d painted her lips a fiery burgundy—a color she’d told him was her power lipstick color when she meant business.
He smiled at her.
She exhaled slowly and smiled back.
“I called this meeting—thanks for coming, by the way—to eat crow to you, Sawyer, in front of your wonderful family. Thank you for your beautiful text. I’m also sorry for thinking what I did about you. Because I really lost it.”
Relief came like a steamroller before he had to swallow back the ball of guilt in his aching throat. “Assuming the show was with you wasn’t something I did to hurt you, and like I told you in my text, I’m sorry that it’s not. I would never hurt you, Phoebe. Not for the world.”
“I know that, deep down.” She paused, her emerald eyes glistening as she coughed to clear her voice.
He stood there with his heart in his throat, feeling the burn of emotion. Yeah, here was the hurt and the exorcism.
After taking a deep breath, she bit her lip and met his gaze.
“I don’t want to simply blame my overblown reaction on learning about my mother’s betrayal, but it was a factor.
Because it fucking hurt. I’m only sorry I made the hurt worse.
For you. For me. For us. Because I love you very much, Horatio, and I don’t want to lose you. ”
He came around the canvas, his heart pulsing in his chest. God, he had to go to her. This was shredding him like little pieces of paper. “I love you too, and I don’t want to lose you either.”
She put her hand up. “Hang on! I have one more very important thing to do before I launch myself into your arms and kiss you senseless.”
He gave a rusty-sounding laugh. She could always make him laugh, even when there was something painful lodged under his breastbone.
“Then I’ll hold myself back, although it’s not easy.”
She gave a valiant smile. “Thank you, because I rehearsed this about twenty times, and I do want to give you my best.”
Muffled laughter erupted around the kitchen.
He glanced around as she turned to the garment bag.
Nanine and Carl were holding hands now. The other Plus Ones and their partners were standing with their arms around each other.
Only Kyle and Madison stood apart, with Pierre bobbing his head between them as he took in the scene.
He suddenly understood what Phoebe had meant about calling the meeting. She must have texted someone so they could all witness their reconciliation. Because she knew what they meant to him.
God, this was a moment he was never going to forget. If only she could finish doing whatever she was doing. The zipper was giving her fits. Maybe she was nervous? But she finally opened the garment bag, tugging out a full length, sleeveless red gown and thrusting it out.
He bit his lip. Was he supposed to say nice dress? Was she going into fashion? He had no idea where she was going with this.
Her ragged burst of laughter was strained. “I see from your face that you think I might have gone a little crazy. Like, why did I lug a cocktail dress over here in the cold when I’m not planning on wearing it tonight? Good question. Let me answer it. God, I hope I won’t cry.”
Man, she was killing him here.
Her smile was tremulous as she shook the dress in the harsh light. “This dress is the one I plan to wear at your first gallery showing at the Anderson Gallery in London.”
Oh shit.
“Because this is how much I love you, Sawyer. I will, of course, suck it up and be at your side. Cheering you on. Even if I plan to give my mother the stink eye from time to time. Sue me. I’m not a perfect human.
You deserve to have someone who loves you so much that she will face down her worst enemy to support you.
Right now, that happens to be my mother. ”
He took a few steps toward her, the hurt in her voice tangling up with his own inside his chest. “Phoebe, that’s—”
“Sawyer, you deserve everything.” A tear slipped down her cheek. “Everything! And I promise to always give you my best. I swear to you that I will never jump to another conclusion without talking to you first. You have my word.”
His arms crushed her to him, the hanger and dress settled against his back as her arms came around him.
Brooke darted forward and took the dress from Phoebe’s slack hand.
Her coat was bulky, but he didn’t care as he pressed his face against her hair.
“You have mine too about not assuming things. I should have asked more questions. And you do not have to show up with me at your mother’s gallery—”
She leaned back and cupped his face, eyes alight with love and devotion. “Yes, I do! Because that’s what you do when you love someone. Don’t make me start singing The Proclaimers song about crossing five hundred miles. You know I will, Horatio.”
The strength and steel in her voice was a soundtrack he hoped to always recall. “Maybe later.” Laughter erupted from him, the pure kind he’d always had with her. “Right now, I want to kiss you. I don’t care that we’re not alone.”
“It’s Paris, Horatio,” she said, her fingers tangling in his hair. “Kissing your beloved in public is practically mandatory here.”
He was chuckling as he took her mouth in a long, deep kiss. Nothing too out of control. Because he could hear a few of his roommates cheering and clapping. Then he was crushing her to him again, his face pressed into her furry lime coat. Soon he was chuckling because he had fibers in his mouth.
“Something to remember me by,” she quipped, caressing his jaw as he wiped them away. “So, I think we might have successfully completed the first high hurdle in our relationship. What about you?”
“I don’t want to do another.” Her red hair was shot with fire as he rubbed the strands in his fingers before he remembered the paint on them. “I got paint in your hair.”
She twined her hands around his neck. “It’s been a lifelong journey for me. My dad used to get paint in my hair. So I’m used to it. Lucky you.”
He kissed her swiftly again. “Yeah, lucky me. Because you agreeing to go to my first showing under these circumstances is one of the most meaningful things to ever happen to me.”
“Thank you.” She blew out a harsh breath. “I’m still mad, and I’m going to apologize for being a little surly from time to time as I figure out my next steps. Because I’m not working with my mother anymore. Which means I’m starting over.”
“We can do that together.” His chest was hurting again—for her. “I’m going to help you. Any way I can; you know I will.”
Except he couldn’t in the one way he longed for—with his first show—and he found his heart was still broken because of it.
She seemed to sense his turmoil, giving him another quick kiss.
Then she was wiping her lipstick off the side of his mouth with a soft smile.
“I appreciate that. But you need to listen to Beverly, because even my mother listens to Beverly. She’ll steer your career right. And don’t worry. I’ll figure out mine.”
Sawyer heard a bottle of champagne pop and then another as he reached into his pocket and pulled out a treasured keepsake, one she’d given him on their first date. “I know you will, and as someone who has a lifetime ticket to the Phoebe Theater, I can’t wait.”
“God, you are such a romantic, and I love you for it so hard.” She took a glass of champagne from Jacqueline with a smile. “Seems we’re drinking.”
Brooke fitted a flute into his hand after giving a rueful snort. “We’re toasting to you two, in case it wasn’t obvious.”
“To the next Plus One of the Paris Roommates,” Dean finished with his usual elan. “And Doc, of course. Glad you crazy kids worked everything out.”
Phoebe lifted her glass and gave a dramatic bow. “Thank you from us crazy kids.”
They shared a smile as everyone cried Santé and drank. “I did talk to myself in the studio earlier and thought I was joining the Old Masters in insanity,” he confessed.
“Then you’re with the right partner because I celebrate your crazy.” She gave him a squeeze before turning toward the right. “My turn. I would like to toast Madison for breaking into my apartment and putting my head back on straight.”
“You did what?” Dean cried out before dissolving into laughter. “God, I need to hear this story!”
“Enough!” Madison shot him a look before lifting her flute. “We’re toasting here. Phoebe, thanks for listening and not calling the police.”
“The soup was really good, by the way,” Phoebe shot back with a grin.
Madison only gave that smug smile Sawyer had just painted. “Of course. I made it. Now, everyone on three. To Operation Sawyer being a success. Santé.”
The entire room erupted with the happy chimes of champagne flutes being touched as everyone echoed the toast.
His hero’s journey of mind, soul, and heart was at last complete.