“Why did you buy a weekday print?”
“Becausea friend of mine on the foundation board delivered the final salvo of assured destruction to a mutual acquaintance of ours in the form of an art review. Turns out that my little seed planting about Wickham’s purported AI photography provoked a visceral reaction in her. The poor woman met him about a year ago and had a very unpleasant sexual experience with him.”
He grinned, not for the woman’s unfortunate hook up but for the cold dish of revenge she apparently wrote up in this morning’s Art & Design section.
“Big Tom would not be happy with you getting up in someone’s business. It’s not the Wyomingite way,” she teased.
“Good thing I’m a Manhattanite. The paper is in the kitchen if you’d like to savor the douchebag’s downfall. It’s brilliant and totally deserving of print over digital, maybe even framing, next to the shitter. The guy and his five aliases will never work in the industry again. He’s ruined.”
Shocked, she leaned back. “Five aliases?”
“Yup. I quote,” He dramatically cleared his throat.“Let me state unequivocally Mr. Chance/Wickham/Jones/Chase/Ander’s work is not ‘bravely edgy’ conceptual AI, as he claims. It is poorly lit, bad pornography. Obscene and crudely hypersexualized, his body of work (pun intended) exploits a steady stream of ex-lovers and naïve women, some as young as fifteen.”
He paused. “I think the rest went like this—Degeneracy aside, his photography is corrosive to the trust and profound respect that must exist between creators and their subjects, between artists and the public. His reputation is not salvageable. Nor should it be. The fraud should never work again in any institution that claims to support art, artists, women, or integrity. In fact, there is no room for him in a civilized society. As for his underage exploitation, he should be in prison. Buyers beware, and NYPD take note.”
“Wow, you memorized it.”
“After gloating over it at least twelve times, I retained the most salient points. The whole excoriating article is a beautiful obituary to aswellguy. Add that to the federal investigation and he’s done.”
She shrugged. “Maybe I’ll read it later.” The last thing she wanted was to waste brain power on George. Yes, it stabbed at her heart a tiny bit, but being surrounded by unconditional love these many weeks, she’d come so far in her healing. In fact,she was well on her way to restoring her usurped identity and hijacked life. And with that, she finally found her nerve to speak what had been weighing heavily on her mind. Placing her mug on the window ledge, she said, “Forget about him.” She took a deep breath. “Babe, before we eat ... if you have a sec, I want to talk to you about something important.”
“That sounds serious.”
“Just a smidge. It may put a tiny wrinkle in some plans we’re making, though.”
“That’s not a problem. I have something to talk to you about as well.”
“Well, then, you go first.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yeah.”
He took a seat in her artist chair, then wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her to stand between his spread knees. “So, Beanz’s sappy, over-the-top society wedding got me thinking. How about today?” he asked with a pleading excitement in his blue eyes.
“Today, what?”
“Today. You and me. Let’s start forever as Mr. and Mrs. Fitzwilliam Darcytoday. Unless, of course, you want a big wedding, then we can wait.”
Her heart leaped. “Seriously?” She excitedly laughed. “Oh, William ... I only want you. I would say ‘I do’ anywhere, at any time you want. You know I don’t need a fancy, expensive wedding, just you.”
“Yeah. My feelings exactly. So, is that a yes?”
“That’s an absolutely, positively, resounding yes, but can we pull it off on such short notice?”
He glanced at his watch. “Aunt Catherine sent a waiver for the twenty-four-hour wait to one of her cronies at the courthouse. So, if you want, she can marry us at four.”
“Four? What should I wear? Shouldn’t we call Gigi and Charlie as witnesses? But Caroline and Rick have left for Bali, and what about your cousin, Anne, and my friend Charlotte? And we cannot leave Guy out! He can give me away in my father’s absence!”
“Take a breath.”
And she did.
“Don’t worry about anything. It’s all taken care of. All you have to do is show up on my arm, and forever starts at 4:05. I hope you don’t mind, but I bought you something special to wear ...” His smile slightly faded. “What? You’re biting your lip. What’s the matter? Aren’t you happy? Did you have a dress planned? I’m sorry ... I shouldn’t have—”
“What? I’m over the moon happy! It’s ... just so surreal! Everything, and I meaneverything, is happening so fast. I feel like the time we were apart is playing catch-up in lightspeed mode.”
He let out a deep breath, his love-filled gaze holding hers. “It’s true. I think the universe is putting everything back on track, making up for lost time. So, you’re okay with today?”
