Chapter 18
MIA
A few days later, I’m sitting at my desk in the gallery, thinking about Dean. I still can’t believe he stood up for me the other day, but I know it didn’t really mean anything.
He had a brand new date the next night, and he didn’t kick her out. As a matter of fact, he stayed with her on the couch until about two in the morning, and I had to turn my headphones up extra loud to tune out their laughter.
I wish I could hate him more like I did before, but it’s hard to do when he’s so close to me. When every time I see him, I’m drawn to a memory I had before.
Then again, I figure that I need to date just like him, since I clearly only bring out anger in him.
I zoom through the rest of my work until lunch, only stopping here or there to answer texts from Autumn.
After lunch, I set up the room for a mid-day showing and find myself facing one of the most attractive men I’ve ever seen. His eyes are a deep, dark blue, he has a smile that rivals Dean’s, and his lips are beyond perfection.
Those lips...
“Hello?” He smiles. “Hello?”
“Um, hi.” I blush and set down my stencil. “How may I help you?”
“Well, I was here for an afternoon tour, but now that I’ve seen you, I think I should be here for something else.”
I blush again.
“I’m Trevor Whitmore.” He extends his hand. “I have a three o’clock with a Miss Gray?”
“That’s me.” I shake his hand. “You’re half an hour early.”
“It’s a habit,” he says. “Would you like me to wait?”
“Not at all. We can start now.”
“Or...” He looks at his watch. “Since I’m the only one here and you’re not due to give me the tour for another half hour, you could let me buy you a coffee across the street.”
The words “No, I can’t” are on the tip of my lips, but then I realize that this is exactly what I need right now.
“Let me grab my purse,” I say. “I’ll be right with you.”
I rush to the back and freshen up my make-up. I run my fingers through my hair a few times to give it that “I definitely tried super hard to do this” effect, and then I meet him at the front door.
I flip the gallery’s sign to say, “Out for Lunch. The Art will return soon” and before I know it, he’s leading me across the street to what I’m sure will be the stuff of fairytales.
Please be the stuff of fairytales...
He opens the door for me and we take a seat in the back. A waitress quickly takes our order, and Trevor offers me his dazzling smile again.
He leans forward in his chair. “So, Miss Gray—”
“It’s Mia. You can call me Mia.”
“Okay, Mia.” That smile is lethal. “Mia, how long have you been working in that gallery?”
“Weeks. It hasn’t been that long.”
“Did you just move here?”
“I did.” I pause as the waitress sets down our coffees. “I came from Boston.”
“What’s in Portland that can’t be done in Boston?” he asks. “Boyfriend?”
“Not at all. If I had a boyfriend, I wouldn’t have accepted your offer for coffee.”
“Fair enough.” He looks into my eyes. “So, what is it then?”
“Art.”
He raises his eyebrow. “You actually know art or are you still learning?”
“I know it, and I do some of my own.”
Intrigued, he crosses his legs. “Monet or Manet??”
“Monet. Sharper images.”
“Post-modernism or modernism.”
“Modernism—everything post has hints of what came before it.”
He smiles and launches into a series of other art questions, and we go back and forth about our favorite artists. Even when we make it back to the gallery for the tour, my explanations for the collection are only side-notes to our art conversation.
When we reach the final piece and my manager lets me know she’ll be locking up in twenty, something comes over me.
“Would you like to continue this at my place?” I ask him.
“Definitely.”
I give a shorthand account of the last piece, even though I really didn’t need to, and the two of us leave the gallery. He offers to drive, and I almost turn him down, but I decide to go with it.
We still can’t stop talking in the car, and for a split second, I think this could go somewhere. This is exactly what I need.
When we arrive at the condo, I open the door and immediately run into Dean.
“Get out of the way,” he says, motioning for me to move past him. “I have somewhere to be.”
“Good,” I say, and Trevor steps beside me.