The conversation eventually lulls after Liza finishes telling us about an especially depraved patient whose raunchy requests she had to manage with a professional manner.
Brandon’s and my eyes find each other in an instant.
“Creepy Tom,” we both say with a laugh.
We’re met with bewilderment, so Brandon launches into the tale. I chuckle to myself, nestling against his cedarwood scent and enjoying the weight of his arm around me as I listen.
Mom frowns. “Why go that far in the first place? That didn’t seem very smart. Amantha should have skipped him and moved onto someone more worthwhile.”
Brandon’s jaw pulls taut.
I sit straighter. “The museum needed that mural to display in Amantha’s exhibition. It’s famous, and without it, well, it would have been disappointing.”
“Sounds to me like the whole affair might already be disappointing if she has to go to such lengths to convince people to comply,” Mom titters to absolutely no one.
The atmosphere grows stagnant, the spell before a lightning storm.
I set down my fork, and Brandon rubs tiny circles between my shoulder blades.
“Far from it, actually.Disappointing.” I spit the word out. “I should know, since I’m taking the photos for the mural reproductions. It’s going to be an amazing exhibition.”
Mom arches a brow, and Dad—well, he’s still here, moving his fork to his mouth and converting oxygen to carbon dioxide.
“You’retaking the photos?” Mom asks.
Brandon’s voice is so low it makes the hairs on my neck vibrate. “She is. I’ve seen them, and they’re incredible.” His eyes meet my downcast ones, and his tone softens to velvet. “She’sincredible.”
I’m lost in the sunlit dappled trees that are his gaze. A summer patch of grass so soft and fragrant that it’s like I’ve finally found home.A sudden burn behind my eyes makes my smile quiver. He cups my cheek, thumb brushing the corner of my trembling mouth.
I swear I see a tear leak out of Liza’s eye.
“Katherine has no official training for photography,” Mom prattles on. “Using that silly camera James’s mother gifted her can hardly be considered sufficient.”
Brandon twirls a fork through his linguini and shrugs. “Hmm…A bachelor’s degree in fine arts and—what would you say, pumpkin? Fifteen-ish years spent in a photography studio? That could be considered more than enough vocational training, but who’s counting?”
Mom’s jaw lands in her lap, Liza grows still, and Brandon takes happy bite after happy bite of pasta.
I could kiss him right now, I swear. Sweep the insufferable crystal from this table and knot the tablecloth around his neck like the superhero he is. We could fly far away from here and make out on the moon.
But instead, I blink.
Brandon grins, wipes his mouth with his napkin, then presses a chaste kiss to my temple. “Sock puppet, you promised me a tour of the beach town before it gets too dark.”
Liza nods so fast her bangs flop. “Go, go! Before it gets too dark.”
Mom’s tongue is either encased in stone, or she’s giving Brandon the silent treatment. I wince, recognizing the same knee-jerk reaction in myself when I get upset. But I don’t have time to unpack that before Brandon scoots my chair backward.
“Sorry, pattie-cake. I completely forgot,” I say as I hop up.
Brandon wraps an arm around my waist, steering me past the patio chairs and toward the staircase.
“Thanks for dinner, you guys,” Brandon calls cheerily over his shoulder. “We’ll see you all in the morning.”
I pick up my pace as I slip my hand into Brandon’s.
“Thank you,” I whisper.
“For what?” He feigns innocence.
