But better than nothing, I suppose.
“Since I’m mostly done with my meetings anyway, I’m heading back and I’ll do everything else remotely. Even buying art.”
“Maybe you can come back later, to finish up?” I ask lightly and before I can think about it too closely. Because past me would have opinions about present me making future plans.
“Yeah. I’ll be back at some point. I can’t say when.”
“The real world calls.” I stand up, collecting myself and even attempting a small smile. “I’m glad you were able to see the best city at the best time of year. And hopefully you’ll acknowledge that it is the best Christmas.”
There. He hasn’t destroyed me with the news. I’m still standing and still me, advocating for the best city in the world. Even if I was the sort to be in relationships, depth of feeling can’t happen this quickly. I’m safe.
“It was a lot of fun. More fun than I’ve had in a really long time, even if it was in a city. Actually, a surprising amount of fun. And I think that was because of you.” He slides his arms around me, pulling me closer to the upper body that he got bench-pressing peach trees he ripped from the ground with his bare hands, probably.
“I know this is a long shot, since you have a lot of work to do around the holidays. But I want to extend the invitation for you to come down my way with me and see a Southern Christmas. And not only in thanks for showing me around, but because I want to spend more time with you.”
The yes is halfway up my throat before I realize it. But traveling down the country, spending the holiday with him, leaving work,andmeeting his family? That’s a lot. More than I’ve ever done in the past with anyone else. And too far from casual.
I’m frozen between wanting to grab the invitation and guard it in my treasure room like a dragon and wanting to put it in a bottle and throw it in the ocean to get it away from me, sure that he’ll leave at some point. When I least expect it, when I’m most invested in him, to cause the most damage.
And if it’s already this hard at the thought of him leaving, I can’t imagine what another week would do. Or another after that.
He sees my indecision and rushes to head off the awkward moment. “That’s a lot to throw at you all at once. No need to make a decision now. I’m going to book a flight for later tomorrow, and if you want to come, I’ll book one for you. And whatever return flight you want.”
“I—I—I—” am becoming incapable of forming sentences out loud. Or maybe I just have no idea what I’m going to say.
Beau interrupts my loop, which definitely wasn’t going anywhere anyway. “Really, no pressure for an answer. And if you decide to come after I’ve left, give me a call and I can book you a ticket then.” He looks regretfully at his phone again. “But I should get back to the hotel to plan and pack.”
“I have to stay. At this work party.” I regret the decision as soon as I verbalize it. I could have had at least one more night with Beau, but the fear won out. Fear that if I went I’d buy the damn ticket myself and be on a plane in twenty-four hours.
Getting in deeper with every second.
“I understand. It’s a lot to ask.” But he’s got a slight frown tugging at his lips. Maybe he’s just as sad as me that he has to leave.
He looks around and his eyes linger on Chachi, who’s looking in the opposite direction. He drops a quick, and unsatisfying, kiss on my lips and then just as abruptly steps back from me. “Bye, Sonia.”
“Bye,” I whisper.
He turns and walks away, not looking back. I try to stop looking when he gets to the table next to ours. And then I tell myself it’s just sad to keep watching when he gets to the front door. None of that works, but I try one more time to tell myself how pathetic it is to keep looking in his direction when he’s not even in sight anymore.
That’s not working, so I try a different approach. I tell myself it’ll be a lot better for my emotional health to stop staring at the spot where he left like I can conjure him with the force of my mind, but that doesn’t work at one minute, two minutes or five. Or ten.
Help comes from an unexpected corner. Chacha comes to sit next to me, breaking my gaze from the blank space. “Hi, Sonia.”
“Hi, Chacha. It’s a good party.”
“Thanks to you and Priya.” Chacha raises his glass at me. “I just spoke with Beau outside. He said he was leaving but he thanked us for the help decorating his office. He said you gave him one-on-one help, and he wouldn’t have been able to decorate even one room without you.”
Right. I didn’t tell anyone I was doing this. My mind is still scrambled by Beau leaving, but Chacha is expecting an answer, his eyebrow raised in inquiry.
“He was a reluctant buyer who didn’t have much knowledge about art. So I helped him. And he bought pieces from us.”
“But how much time did you spend on him? And you went to other dealers?”
“We got a commission from them.”
“This isn’t what we do. We run too many shows to devote that much time to one client.”
“It’s a gamble, but it will be worth it.” Definitely for me, because I’ve had fun doing it. But I think for Loot too, from what the preliminary numbers are saying.
