Other people reached for business cards, and by the time they drifted away to another exhibit, half of the cards were gone. Micah was going to have all the phone calls he could handle.
Cosmo had seen his beau only for a moment before Simone whisked him away to discuss her portrait. Hopefully his initial nerves would wear off as he sank into the routine of drawing.
When Cosmo had been standing in the living room, slowly stripping, Micah’s gaze kept flitting away, roaming over some memory only he could see. His breath had quickened, hand visibly shaking as he wielded his pencil.
He wanted to take that pain away from Micah as much as Micah wanted to take away Cosmo’s. Hopefully Micah would call his brother after the event was over and brag about how well he did.
Checking his watch, Cosmo excused himself from chatting patrons and walked down the halls. After peering into Simone’s empty office, he stopped at the easel set up near the reception area, but Micah wasn’t there either. He was supposed to be on in less than fifteen minutes.
Loud retching came from the bathroom. The soles of Micah’s loafers peeked from beneath a stall door.
Shit. “Oh, honey. Okay.” He pulled out his phone. “I’ll tell Simone you can’t do this.”
“No!” Micah’s voice was hoarse and desperate. He coughed. “No, I have to.”
“You don’t, and if Simone knew it was making you so anxious you were puking up the hors d’oeuvres, she would tell you the same.”
The toilet flushed, and the stall door slammed open. Micah’s face was pale and sweaty, his glasses dangling from his hand and tie tossed over one shoulder. He splashed water on his face, gargled, and raked back his hair.
“The first time I came back to your place, I could tell how badly you wanted to be able to let me inside,” Cosmo said. “But a desire for something isn’t always enough to power through. You needed time and practice to get me into your apartment. And now I can stand inside without hurting you. This is just another hurdle that requires more time.”
Micah blotted his brow with a paper towel. “Or an alternative? Maybe I could sketch you again instead of Simone, if you were up for it. Clothed, this time.”
It seemed better to call the whole thing off, but if Micah needed to do this for his own sense of accomplishment, then so be it.
After sending a message to Simone, Cosmo tucked Micah’s tie back into his vest, straightened his collar, and kissed his clammy brow.
His phone jingled with a reply, and he read it aloud.“‘I’m so sorry to hear that. I was looking forward to my portrait, but this night was supposed to be a fun way for Micah to meet potential clients, not cause him stress. If it’s better for him to draw you instead, that’s totally fine. Did you ever meet Franchesca? She couldn’t paint unless she had 3 cups of decaf coffee, her favorite slippers, and daytime court shows playing in the background. She did a live painting event and we had to find her a laptop and play Judge Judy before she’d get started.’”
Cosmo tapped his lips. “Ididmeet Franchesca. She was lovely.”
“I’m glad she’s accommodating, but I know you can’t be my Emotional Support Lover for everything I do.”
“I’m your muse, remember, so that seems perfectly appropriate.” He tucked his phone away and headed for the door. “I think I saw some seltzer water. I’ll snatch you some quick. Meet you at the easel.”
Slipping through attendees and managing to avoid getting sucked into any conversations, Cosmo stopped at the refreshment table and skimmed past the carpaccio and assortment of cheeses. A few remaining flutes of champagne sat out but probably wouldn’t help Micah’s stomach.
The chatter faded as he headed down exhibit halls to the break room. Much less fancy fare of day-old bagels and a Tupperware tub of brownies Clarence’s wife had made sat on one of the tables. Poking his head into the fridge, he pushed past forgotten condiment packets and coffee creamer.
“IknowI saw seltzer somewhere.”
A shadow loomed, and a hand offered Cosmo a bottle of seltzer water over the top of the fridge door.
“Thank you! Where was it?”
“On the counter,” Royce said.
Cosmo straightened so fast that he banged his head on the freezer handle, but he barely felt it. He clutched the bottle to his chest and backed away, blood pounding in his temples. “You have some nerve.”
Royce stared with pursed lips, his expression that of a person who had something to say that they’d rather not. “If Simone knew I was here, she’d throw me out on my ass. And I hate that it’s come to that. She and Hina used to be such good friends, and Hina doesn’t even talk about Simone anymore. The galleries have become rivals, and it’s all your fault.”
Cosmo’s chest felt like it had been run through with a red-hot poker. “I need to go.” He tried to hurry around Royce, but Royce stepped into his path and held out his arms. His fucking tie was crooked – always crooked – and the sight of it made Cosmo want to sock the man in the face.
“Just a moment. I’d been hoping to smooth things over. I even got you a gift.”
“I don’t want your gifts.” What Cosmo wanted wasout of this room, even if he had to dive through Royce’s legs. He couldn’t stand here a second longer.
“I know how dramatic and emotional you can get, and I should have thought about that when you told me in the bar that you needed love. Kissing you then was terrible timing, and being drunk is not an excuse. I’m sorry it upset you so much.”
