“Crap.” I blew out a breath. “Fine. Text me the address.”
Traffic was a nightmare around Columbia. By the time I’d circled the block near 112thStreet for the third time, I could write my autobiography entirely in curses. Finally, I spotted Sebastian waiting outside the GISS building on Broadway, sleeves rolled up, tie loosened, backpack slung over his shoulder. Students streamed past, taxis honked, and he looked aggravatingly good for someone who hadn’t spent the last hour stuck in gridlock.
He slid into the passenger seat, leaning over to kiss my temple. “Thanks for picking me up.”
I shot him a look, still vibrating with nerves I refused to name. “You didn’t give me much of a choice.”
His charming dimples nearly undid me. “Jess, it’s not an ambush. Janine wants to meet you. What’s the big deal?”
The big deal? That she wastheperson in his life. The one whose opinion mattered most. She’d already met me once under less than flattering circumstances. If I blew this, there might not be a second chance.
But I couldn’t say that—not without giving away just how much his sister’s approval already mattered to me.
So I forced a shrug. “It’s no big deal. How was work?”
“Good. Productive. What about you? Did you finish all the arrangements for Saturday?”
“Yep,” I said, tapping the wheel. “Well, except for writing my… thingies. Speeches, anecdotes, all that boring crap that makes me want to claw my eyes out at art exhibits. Nothing worse than watching an artist stand there kissing their own ass. Like ‘Look at me, I’m brilliant, I’m profound, worship my brushstrokes.’ Ugh.” I shuddered and made a left turn.
Sebastian chuckled. “I don’t see the problem. You don’t have to exaggerate. Just talk about your process. Like, with the girls’ sketches, you could start with friendship, then explain why you chose to draw your friends that way. Keep it personal, not pretentious.”
I shot him a sideways glance, arching a brow. “Not bad. What about the stylized seasons paintings? What would you say about those?”
He rubbed his chin, pretending to think deeply. “Well, you could talk about what each season has meant since ancient times. Mythology, symbolism, whatever inspires you. What’s your favorite mythology?”
“Greek,” I replied instantly. “I know their entire pantheon by heart. Visiting Greece is on my bucket list.”
His lips curved in a sly smile. “Noted. Then talk about the seasons in Greek mythology. Demeter, Persephone, the cycles of life. People will eat that up.”
I blinked at him, surprised and a little touched. “You’re actually really good at this. Thank you.”
For the first time that day, I felt a flicker of confidence about those dreaded speeches.
By the time we reachedRumors, the gods of parking took pity on me. Someone pulled out just as I drove up, and I slid the truck into the tight space like a pro. Sebastian gave a low whistle of appreciation.
“Perfect,” he said.
“Dad taught me,” I replied, smug.
We climbed out, the heavy summer heat pressing down like a wet blanket. My palms were slick with sweat, and not just from the weather. Sebastian looked maddeningly perfect in his crisp white shirt and casual slacks, like he’d strolled straight out of a GQ spread. Meanwhile, I was still in cutoffs, a paint-splattered tee, and the faint smell of turpentine clinging to my skin.
As if he could read my panic, Sebastian reached for my hand, bringing my fingers to his lips. “Everything’s going to be great, okay?”
I stared at my chipped nails, imagining Janine’s immaculate manicure. I wanted to bolt.
Sebastian stopped at the entrance, his gaze locking onto mine. “Oh, and just so you know…” His smile softened into something sincere. “I’ve never formally introduced a woman to my sister before.”
He squeezed my hand. “So, no pressure.”
I narrowed my eyes at him. “You’re a sadist. You drop that on me now just to watch me sweat.”
He grinned, holding the door. “The fact that you’re nervous is a good sign.” He leaned down, lips brushing my ear. “It means you love me.” Then he nudged me forward.
Love? My brain screeched like brakes on subway tracks. We had never said the L-word. Not once. And he just tossed it out there in a casual comment? Maybe this was part of his twisted sense of humor. Or maybe… God forbid… it was a test.
I spotted Janine instantly. She was perched at the bar, looking as though she’d been airlifted out of a catalog shoot—white blouse tucked into a black pencil skirt, suit jacket folded neatly over her stool. Everything about her screamed precision. I gulped as Sebastian guided us over.
“Hey, sis.” He kissed her cheek with an easy smile. “Great to see you. Janine, this is Jesse.” He turned proudly to me. “Jess, meet my sister.”
