The lobby is filled with visitors, but the curation wing is almost abandoned. Only a few janitors nod as I pass on my way to the tiny office.
“Well, hello there.”
I startle a full foot off the ground.
Brandon’s massive body has taken the desk chair hostage.
“What are you doing here?” I press a palm to my chest, forcing my breathing to regulate. I’m one stiff wind away from the insane asylum.
“Don’t worry, just about done. I found another grant last night, but I needed the files I left on my hard drive.” After a moment, Brandon unplugs the drive and stands.
The man fills out workwear just fine, but I’d be lying if I said his black hoodie and gray joggers didn’t look like they were designed by a devil who wants all womankind to fall for their ex. I force myself not to gawk.
“See something you like?” He quirks that annoying, dimpled grin.
I tuck my flustered hands into the pockets of my overcoat. “Yeah, you leaving.”
He lets out a husky laugh. “Then I’ll get out of here so you can enjoy the view of my backside too.”
My surprised laugh bursts as he joins me in the doorway.
“You aresohumble,” I say.
“The most humble,” he agrees, eyes landing on mine.
The persistent ache over wedding dress shopping and terror over H.Y. subsides a bit.
We gaze for a second longer, but Brandon’s grin slowly slides off his face. Concern flickers in his expression.
“You good, Kate?”
My face must give me away, because awareness grows in his.
“I’m fine.” My words come out hoarse as I stride past him, easing off my overcoat and tossing it onto the tetanus chair in the corner. My knee-length fuchsia dress flutters around me, so I smooth it back over my black tights before I sit.
Brandon doesn’t budge from the doorway.
I insert the abandoned SD card into the slot on my computer and try to ignore him while the photos load.
“Kate.”
My name is saturated with nuance, a sentence all on its own. I bite back the stinging in my tear ducts with a firm pinch across my tights.
“I said I’m fine, Brandon.”
Clicking open my editing software, I choose the drippy cave mural of Starved Rock State Park.
Vibrant orange ombres to copper as the cavernous rocks crowd a tiny cerulean waterfall. The juxtaposition of the blurring traffic in front of the mural—thanks to the slow shutter speed I used—and organic matter is beautiful.
I sigh, but it comes out more like a whimper.
A warm hand finds the shoulder of my dress, and I can’t bring myself to shrug it off. I swallow around the lump in my throat, toggling the contrast of the photo.
“That’s beautiful, Kate,” Brandon murmurs over my shoulder.
“Thanks.”
Brandon’s hand disappears, but my peripheral vision catches him settling into the tetanus chair with my overcoat draped over his knees.
