Chapter 37
For the fourth time, Scott attempted to tie his bowtie. This time, it looked a little lopsided, but he couldn’t be arsed to start from scratch. He stared at himself in the small mirror in his office, brushing hair out of his eyes. He hadn’t slept well, and from the shadows under his eyes, everyone would knowit.
“Thank you for joining us this evening to celebrate the opening of Symbols of Protection: The Mystical Art of Talismans from Around the World. I’d especially like to thank…Who the fuck do I want to thank again?” Scott turned around to check his notes.
Memorizing the names of the sponsors, benefactors, and the many museums around the world that had donated artifacts—only temporarily, of course—had taken him most of the afternoon. This was a big exhibition, and he didn’t want to leave anyone out, or mess up any of his speech.
Dr. MacDougall was counting on this exhibition being a success. It would prove that she’d been correct to hire Scott, young as he was, to be a curator at the museum.
And if it was successful, he’d have a much easier time when it came to pitching his more outside-the-box ideas.
Nerves bit at him; there was a hollow, queasy feeling in his stomach. Scott was confident enough, but he hadn’t given many speeches, and he certainly hadn’t given many at opening-night exhibition galas before. His mums were going to be there, as well as Eric and Immy. There was, of course, one person missing—the person he wanted most to be there, and the only person who would notbe.
Dina would have known what to say to calm him down. She would have pressed her lips against the crease between his eyebrows until his frown softened into a smile. He missed her tinkling laugh, and the way she scrunched up her nose when she smelled something bad—which in London was frequently.
The hollowness in his core expanded until a dull ache permeated his whole body. This was just how it was going to be now. Eric had told him the pain would lessen with time, but that hadn’t started yet.
The weirdest part of it was that the longer he went without Dina in his life, the more certain he was that what they’d had was that once-in-a-lifetime kind of love. The “I want to grow old with you by my side” kind.
“Just get through tonight,” Scott told his reflection, then placed his speech notes into the pocket of his navy blue suit jacket.
He could hear glasses of champagne clinking together as he walked down the steps into the main atrium. It was already dark outside, being November, but the glow of the lamps and the twinkling of chandeliers—which had been hastily installed earlier that day for the gala—gave the room a sparkling sheen. He had tripped on one of them earlier as it was waiting to be hung.
All the guests were dressed in black tie, with some in elaborate floor-length gowns in deep tones of emerald and vermillion. He shook hands with a few of the museum’s trustees and sponsors, all important people who thought very highly of themselves and their contributions. Not that Scott would ever let them know how he felt.
Instead, he would continue to put on exhibitions, returning artifacts to their home countries and educating visitors about the strange and wonderful parts of their history. But there were quite a few hoops to jump through before he could get there—tonight being one of them.
“And this young man is the mastermind behind Symbols of Protection,” said Dr. MacDougall, walking up to him with an unassuming man, neatly dressed, in tow. “Scott, this is Dr. Benhassi of the Musée d’Orsay.”
Scott shook the man’s hand, not quite believing that he was speaking to the head curator of one of Paris’s largest art collections.
“It’s an honor to meet you, Dr. Benhassi.” Scott smiled. Dr. Benhassi had a kind, open face.
“It is you I should be thanking,” he said, “since it’s just been arranged that the d’Orsay will be hosting your exhibition when it begins its world tour.”
Scott couldn’t believe it. He glanced over at Dr. MacDougall who winked mischievously.
“Is that true?”
“Indeed it is,” she replied. “It was the easiest agreement I’ve ever arranged.”
Dr. MacDougall steered Dr. Benhassi away to meet more of the museum’s curators, and that was a good thing, as Scott’s mind was reeling. His exhibition—his first exhibition—would be going on tour.
And to the Musée d’Orsay in Paris. This was what many curators only dreamed of. He leaned against the cool stone of the atrium wall, sucking in a deep breath.
When the time came to give his speech, Scott was surprised to find that he was no longer nervous. He had spotted Eric and Immy in the audience. As they had slipped in a little late, he hadn’t been able to chat with them beforehand. But seeing their familiar faces there grounded him, even as it also made him more keenly aware that Dina wasn’t there.
He stepped onto the stage that had been erected in front of the entrance to the Reading Room, a large poster of the exhibition hanging behind him. The applause fell silent as Scott reached the microphone, and his heart began to thump traitorously in his chest.
“Thank you all for coming this evening to celebrate the launch of Symbols of Protection.” They weren’t quite the words he’d written on his speech card, but he wasn’t intending to read them verbatim anyway. He continued thanking all the necessary donors, pausing now and again for short bursts of applause.
“Of course, none of our research could have been completed without the assistance of local historians and keepers of the oral history tradition of their homes. Throughout the exhibition you will hear snippets of recordings from interviews we held with these historians, because we should hear the stories straight from their sources.”
That’s when he saw her. Standing in the crowd, among so many others. His heart. She was beaming, her eyes shining with tears. Every second she wasn’t in his arms left him aching, but somehow, Scott finished his speech. He didn’t hear the applause; he barely registered the people shaking his hand and congratulating him as he stepped off the stage.
Dina, Dina, Dina, his heart hammered. But as he moved through the audience, he couldn’t see her.
Someone grabbed his arm.
“She’s over there,” Immy said, pointing toward the Egyptian statues gallery.
Scott walked into the gallery, the sound of the gala growing quiet. All he could hear was his steps on the mosaic tiles. He turned a corner and there she was, waiting for him beneath a statue of Hathor.
Scott wanted nothing more than to hold Dina in his arms and never let her go. She looked radiant in a dark blue dress, made of some kind of slippery satin-like material that hugged her in all the right places. If he had to get on his hands and knees to grovel for her back, he would.
“I—”
Dina held up a hand.
“Please, let me go first,” she said. She stepped toward him, and Scott caught a scent of orange blossom and cinnamon, his heart tripping over itself.
“I am sorry that I ever put you in danger. If that’s enough to make you hate me, then I’ll walk away now. But if—if you still want this, then you should know, I broke the hex.”
His heart filled with hope.
“I had hexed myself without realizing it. The universe was out to get you, because of me. All those years, I was so afraid and insecure and that’s how it manifested. But I’m learning to love myself. It will take some time, and it’ll be hard, but if you could wait for me—”
“I don’t need to wait.” Scott pulled her into his arms, running his fingers along the small of her back. “Dina, I love you. I’m mad for you, surely you know that.”
Dina looked up at him, tears shining in her beautiful brown eyes.
“Everything was real between us, wasn’t it? You still…you still want to be with me?”
“Dina, I could live for a million years and that still wouldn’t be enough time with you. Fuck, I was willing to risk it for only a few days when I thought the universe was going to murder me.”
He laughed, tilting his face down to meet hers. Their lips met, arms wrapping tightly around each other like they were one body.
He would hold her like this, each day, for the rest of his life. He knew it then, knew it as firmly as he breathed in and out, his lips finding Dina’s again and again.
“I should never have offered to make you forget me the other day. I promise never to use magic on you unless you ask me to.” Dina looked up at him from the cradle of his arms, her curls flying in all directions, her cheeks stained with drying tears.
“No, don’t say that. I love every part of you, Dina. And that includes your magic. Remember how you helped me in the maze? Who knows, we might have a few more mazes to go through.”
She must have seen the sureness in his gaze, because she grinned, jumping up and hooking her legs around him. Scott’s hands immediately found her ass, and he gripped her there firmly, a promise of what was to come later that evening.
He kissed along the length of Dina’s neck and up to the curve of her ear.
“I forgot to ask, how did you get in without a ticket? Not that I mind you gatecrashing,” he laughed, relishing the feeling of her body pressed against his once more.
“Oh, I put a spell on an old cinema stub so the security guard at the entrance thought it was a ticket for tonight.”
They held each other for a while longer, until Eric popped his head around the corner of the gallery to let them know it was time to open the exhibition. The grin on his face told them he knew exactly what they’d been upto.
“You two look fucking adorable,” he said, as they strode hand-in-hand back into the atrium. Immy high-fived Eric, both of them no doubt immensely proud of their successful matchmaking.
Dr. MacDougall smiled knowingly at them both too, glancing down at their entwined hands, as they walked into the exhibition gallery.
“You’ll have to bring her round for dinner soon, so I can meet her properly!” she said to Scott, waving them inside.
The night was perfect, and the exhibition went down a storm. As they were getting ready to leave, a reporter from the Guardian found them, and congratulated Scott again, assuring him that he could look forward to a rave review in the paper.
When they climbed into a taxi, Dina turned to him. “Do you want to go home?” she asked. He nodded and gave the driver directions to Dina’s flat.
When he sat back in the seat she was staring at him with a perplexed expression.
“What?” Scott asked.
“I thought you’d want to go back to your apartment,” she replied.
“If I never have to set foot in that flat again I’ll be a happy man. My home is where you are, Dina, and wherever that angry little cat of yours is too.”
She tucked herself into his side, his arm shielding her from the chill in the air.
“Heebie isn’t angry. She just knows what she likes,” Dina mumbled.
When Scott looked down a few minutes later she had fallen asleep, a serene expression on her face. A fierce feeling of protectiveness flooded his senses, and he pulled her closer, draping his scarf over her lap to keep her as warm as possible. Lights glimmered outside the taxi window and all of London slipped into a gentle quiet as the snow began to fall.