A Love Like Yours

by Robin Huber

  Sebastian walks into my bedroom, looking debonair in his snug black tux and indigo bow tie.

  We both gasp at the same time when we see each other.

  “Sebastian, you look so handsome!”

  He eyes every inch of my dress and then turns me around so he can see the back. He widens his eyes and smiles. “Holy bananas, you look so hot.”

  “Really?”

  “I mean it. If I were straight, you’d be in trouble.”

  I laugh. “Sebastian.”

  “I love everything about this.” He holds his hands up in front of me. “The dress. Your hair!” He touches the pink end of my ponytail. “Your eyes. Those lips!”

  I press my Ruby Woo red lips together and smile.

  “You’re channeling your inner Gwen Stefani.”

  “Well, I’ll take that as a compliment.”

  “Wait until Sam sees you.”

  I smile with nervous excitement. I haven’t seen Sam since last week, which was intentional on all counts. I decided to use the space Drew gave me to focus solely on the exhibit. And Sam has been with Joe and Tristan getting ready for a fight in Quebec tomorrow night. Other than a few text messages from him, which were undoubtedly the highlight of my week, my days were filled with event planning, to-do lists, dread, and guilt. Not necessarily in that order.

  “Are you ready? We should get going,” Sebastian says, glancing at his watch.

  “Yeah, just let me grab my shoes.” I go to my closet and step into my black Christian Louboutin stilettos. “Is Paul downstairs?”

  “No. He said he had a pit stop to make, so he’s going to meet us there.”

  “Oh, okay.” I kick up one of my red soles for Bas to see.

  “Fancy.”

  “I thought a little retail therapy might make me feel better about breaking Drew’s heart.”

  “Did it?”

  “No. Not at all.”

  “Well, at least you’ll look good doing it.”

  It’s dusk when we pull up to the curb in front of my brightly lit studio, where Sebastian is promptly greeted by a valet. We rented a nearby parking lot and hired a valet service to assist with parking. I just hope we have a big enough turnout to justify it.

  We walk inside and the waitstaff stops and looks up at us from their tasks.

  “We’re not guests, but we are in charge, so get back to work,” Sebastian teases, and several of them smile before returning to their jobs.

  “I love your dress,” one of the waitresses says as I pass her on my way to find Drew.

  “Thank you.”

  “And your hair.” She smiles with wide eyes.

  “Thanks,” I say, smiling at her.

  “Lucy,” Drew calls from behind the macaroni bar, where he’s busy wiping out martini glasses with a dish cloth.

  “Hi,” I say, smiling at him. I hold my hands behind my back and sashay from side to side in my dress.

  “Hey, can you grab the other box of champagne flutes from your office? I put them in there this morning so no one would break them.”

  I stare at him for several seconds, waiting for him to compliment my dress, but he doesn’t seem to notice. He’s in the zone. “Yeah, sure.”

  “Be careful not to break any of them. I don’t have extras.”

  “Okay.” I head to my office, glancing around the studio as I go, checking the vibe and feel of each strategically positioned piece that I pass. I stop in front of the painting of Sam that’s now hanging on the wall beneath a track of lights that are shining on his powerful body, highlighting his handsome face and unusual eyes. I smile thinking of how everyone might react to it. Hopefully not the same way Drew did. He was fairly underwhelmed by it.

  I sigh and my shoulders fall under the weight of the worry that seems permanently affixed to them lately.

  “What’s wrong?” Sebastian asks, walking up behind me. “It looks great. Everything looks great.”

  “What am I doing, Bas?” I ask, keeping my eyes on the painting.

  He stands beside me and stares at the painting for a few seconds, before saying, “You’re hosting your first art exhibit.”

  “I feel like a fraud.”

  “You’re not a fraud. You’re incredibly talented.”

  I press my lips together and shake my head. “They’re all going to know. Maybe not tonight, but sooner or later, they’ll know.”

  “So they’ll know. And they might even care for twenty-four hours. But then they’ll move on.”

  “Maybe we should take it down,” I say, gesturing to the painting. “It feels like I’m just rubbing it in Drew’s face.”

  “No,” he says firmly.

  “Drew doesn’t even know that Sam’s coming tonight. Maybe I should call Sam and tell him not to come.”

  “Lucy, the show starts in a half hour. He’s probably already on his way.”

  “I don’t know what I was thinking,” I say, unlocking my phone to call him.

  “You were thinking that the love of your life might like to be part of a night that will likely be one of the biggest nights of your career.”

  I pause and look at him.

  “And you were thinking that using his painting in the show would be a beautiful way to honor everything he’s accomplished and the man he’s become for you…a way to say thank you for being patient and waiting while you navigate this unfamiliar road.”

  “Yes, but…” I cover my face with my hands and try to shake off the frustration of my self-inflicted predicament. “If I do that for Sam, I hurt Drew.”

  He drops his head to the side and looks at me.

  “But if I protect Drew, I hurt Sam,” I say, reading his not-so-subtle thoughts.

  He raises his eyebrows and nods.

  “These choices suck.” I huff.

  “Is there really a choice?”

  “I don’t want to hurt Drew any more than I have to, Bas.”

  “Well, life’s not that easy. There’s a cost for the things we want. That’s what makes them worthwhile.” He sighs. “There’s no ‘buy one, get one free’ here, Luc. If you want Sam, you have to be willing to pay the price.”

  “You mean, be willing to hurt Drew.”

  He shrugs. “Yes.”

  “And be willing to risk my career. And be willing to give up my nice, normal life.”

  “Yes, to all of the above.”

  I let out a heavy sigh. “And I’m just supposed to be okay with hurting Drew because that’s the breaks?”

  “Of course not. You should care that it’s going to hurt Drew and it’s probably going to hurt Janice too. And that’s going to suck. And people are going to have opinions about it and that’s going to suck too. It’s not going to be easy. But that’s the price. That’s what you have to be willing to pay for Sam.”

  I swallow hard and nod, accepting a truth I know I’m going to have to face.

  “Isn’t he worth it?” Bas asks.

  “Of course he is.”

  “Okay then, there’s no choice.”

  I exhale a deep breath. “I just want tonight to be over with. I think I’m going to tell Drew about Sam as soon as it is. If he’ll listen.” The thought of ending things with Drew fills me with anxiety. Not because I’m second-guessing my relationship with Sam. But because it means giving up the safe, expected life I’ve come to know. And the foster kid deep inside me panics at that. It’s like jumping off a high dive. I want to jump. But it goes against every self-preserving bone in my body.

  I look at the time on my phone, eager to get it over with. “Three hours. The show should be over by then, don’t you think?”

  “Hey.” He looks at me. “This is your night. Be here. Okay?”

  I blink at him and nod. “Okay.”

  “Let’s just focus on the show for the next few hours before you take your running leap off the cliff.”

  I nod at Sebastian, whose uncanny way of knowing exactly how I feel helps ease my anxiety. “Okay.”

  The corners of his mo
uth turn up. “Smile. You look too good not to.”

  I smile automatically.

  “And don’t forget…Sam’s not the only one you get at the end of all this.” He reaches for my hand. “You’ve got me too.”

  I squeeze his hand. “I’m pretty lucky.”

  Drew calls my name.

  “Shoot. The champagne glasses.” I hurry to my office and pick up the box that’s sitting on my desk. I carry it in my outstretched arms, wrapping my fingers around the corners of it tightly.

  “I can carry it,” Sebastian says, walking beside me.

  I tighten my grip on it. “I’ve got it.”

  “Lucy,” Drew calls again.

  “I’m coming,” I say, stepping on the hem of my dress. I stumble forward. “Shit!” The box wobbles in my hands. I try to balance on my heels, but it’s a losing battle. Sebastian grabs my arm, keeping me upright, but the box continues its trajectory to the floor, landing with a crescendo of shattering crystal.

  I gasp and assess the damage. “Shit! Shit! Shit!”

  Drew walks over to me and stands with his hands on his hips, staring at the crushed box on the floor. He closes his eyes and shakes his head.

  “I’m sorry, I tripped.”

  “It’s fine,” he says calmly, but he doesn’t look calm. “Are you okay?”

  “Yeah, I’m fine.”

  “Sebastian, do you think you could you help Lucy clean this up? I’ve got to go put my tux on.”

  “Sure, we’ve got it.”

  Drew heads to my office to get changed, and Sebastian gives me a crooked smile. “You okay?”

  “Yes.” I reach for the box.

  “Here, let me help this time,” he says, reaching underneath the box to help me carry it to the back.

  A few minutes later, Drew steps out of my office looking handsome in his black tux. I walk over to him and straighten his bow tie. “You look great.”

  He looks at me and sighs.

  “I’m sorry about the champagne glasses. I didn’t mean to drop them.”

  “I know you didn’t.”

  “It’ll be fine. We can just use the other eight hundred and one glasses you brought.” I smirk.

  “You can’t serve champagne in a martini glass, Luc.”

  “Well, what about the box you already unpacked?”

  “Each box holds fifty champagne flutes. It’s not enough.”

  “You really think everyone will come?” I smile with anticipation.

  “Janice Christiansen is nothing if not persuasive. I think you’ll definitely need another box. I’ll be back,” he says, pulling his keys out of his pocket.

  “What? Where are you going? People are going to start showing up any minute now.”

  “The staff knows what to do. I’ll be back in no time. Don’t worry.”

  “But I need you here,” I say, panicked. These aren’t my people. These are his people. Janice’s people.

  “You’ll be fine.” He stretches his neck and looks behind me.

  I glance over my shoulder and realize he’s looking at my ponytail.

  He pulls his eyebrows together, and the corners of his mouth turn down. “When did you do that?”

  I reach behind me and pull my hair over my shoulder, touching the pink end of my ponytail. “This morning.”

  “Isn’t it fabulous?” Sebastian says.

  “It’s something,” he says, amused, concerned, maybe a little worried about my mental well-being. “I’ll be back soon.”

  I follow him through the studio. “Please hurry.”

  “I will.” He turns around and smiles at me before he leaves. “You look great, by the way.”

  I purse my lips over the smile he evokes. “Thank you.”

  Sebastian scans the list in his hands. “Done, done, done…” He looks at me. “Wait. The music,” he says, smiling with what I can tell is nervous excitement. It excites me too.

  I widen my eyes and nod. “Hurry.”

  He disappears to the back and a few seconds later, Ben Howard begins to croon the lyrics to “Keep Your Head Up” through the studio speakers. I smile and close my eyes and let the airy melody flow through me. When I open them, Sebastian is walking toward me, singing along to the cheerful song.

  He smiles and takes my hand. “Keep your head up, keep your heart strong…no, no, no, no…keep your mind set, keep your hair long…” He spins me around, and I laugh. “My, my darlin’…keep your head up, keep your heart strong…” He puts his hand behind my back and pulls me against him, and we sway back and forth to the music, laughing and singing along.

  He spins me again, and I swing my ponytail, shouting, “Keep your hair long!”

  He squeezes his eyes shut and shouts, “My, my darlin’.”

  We dance until the song ends and when it does, I feel like there’s light pouring out of me. I smile and hold his hands. “I love you, Bas. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

  He pulls me into a hug and kisses the top of my head. “I love you too. Now let’s have some fun!” He spins me out of his arms. “This is our night! We deserve it!”

  I smile and agree, “Okay!”

  “Quick, before everyone gets here. Let’s have a toast.”

  I bob my head and follow him over to the bar, where the bartender promptly greets us. “What can I get you?”

  “Champagne”—Bas glances at me and smirks—“in two martini glasses, please.”

  The bartender gives him a funny look, but serves the champagne in martini glasses as requested.

  Sebastian raises his glass. “Here’s to a successful and noticeable night. And…to keeping your hair long.” He winks.

  “Cheers to that.” We clink our glasses and sip our champagne.

  A few minutes later, several people file into the studio, including a few of the artists whose work is on display tonight.

  “My people,” I say relieved, remembering that they aren’t socialites. Most of them are struggling just to make ends meet, just like I was not that long ago. We leave our glasses on the bar and cross the studio to welcome them.

  Sebastian pours on the charm and encourages everyone to look around. “Please, help yourselves to a drink. And be sure to try the lobster macaroni. It’s to die for.”

  The waitstaff buzzes around with trays, offering drinks and hors d’oeuvres as more people make their way inside the studio. As soon as the door closes behind them, another group walks in.

  I look at Sebastian with wide eyes and see the satisfaction in his.

  Janice walks in on Paul’s arm, dragging him from person to person as she schmoozes her way through the room.

  “Should I go rescue him?” Sebastian asks.

  “If you care about him, yes.”

  We make our way over to them, and Janice smiles when she sees us. “Look who I found.”

  “Thanks for returning him to me,” Sebastian says, taking Paul’s hand. He kisses Janice on the cheek. “You look fabulous,” he says, eyeing her crimson gown. It sweeps over one of her shoulders and hugs her slender body.

  “Thank you, Sebastian.”

  I lean in to hug her and she squeezes me tight. “I’m so proud of you,” she says quietly against my ear. “Have fun tonight.” She releases me and I swallow down the conflicting feelings of gratitude and sorrow. She steps back and looks at my dress. “Darling, you look absolutely stunning. This dress is incredible,” she says, spinning me around to look at the back. “Oh.” She gasps.

  I look over my shoulder. “What? What is it?” I reach for the zipper at the small of my back, but it’s secure.

  “Your hair. It’s…pink.”

  “Oh, yes. I, um…”

  She raises her eyebrows and smiles softly. “You’re an artist,” she says, surprising me. “You express yourself through color.”

  I nod. “Yes.”

  “It’s gorgeous,” Paul says, spinning me around again to look at it.

  “Thanks.” I turn around and admire his fitted indigo tuxedo. �
��You look great.”

  He smiles graciously and Sebastian beams. “He’s perfection.”

  “So what was the pit stop you had to make?” I ask curiously.

  “Ah.” He reaches inside his tuxedo jacket. “Just a little something to commemorate the night.” He hands a small box to Sebastian, whose eyes light up when he sees the personalized cuff links inside.

  “Oh, I love them,” he gushes, and hugs Paul. “Thank you.”

  “Here, let me help you put them on,” Paul says, and I smile watching them.

  “Lucy, where’s Drew?” Janice asks.

  “He went to get more champagne glasses. I accidentally dropped one of the boxes he brought.”

  “Oh, dear.” She touches her diamond necklace and presses her lips together into a tight smile.

  “Lucy?”

  I turn around and see an unexpected face with short brown hair and glossy lips smiling at me.

  “I don’t know if you remember me, but—”

  “Molly,” I say, but it comes out like a question.

  Sebastian’s head snaps up.

  “I know you must be really busy tonight, but I was hoping to talk to you for just a minute. If that’s okay?”

  “Um, sure. Yeah.” My eyes flash to Sebastian, who offers little help.

  I walk with her across the studio, glancing down at her tight black cocktail dress.

  “Your studio is really beautiful.”

  “Thank you.”

  “I love art.” She smiles shyly. “I’m a graphic designer, so it’s in my nature.”

  “I didn’t know that.”

  She tucks her hair behind her ear. “I thought maybe Sam would have mentioned it.”

  I tense automatically upon hearing his name and stop walking. “He didn’t.”

  “I hope he passed along my apology.”

  “Yes.”

  “Good.” She drops her head. “I really am sorry for how I behaved that day in the elevator. And for the media stories that ensued. I never meant for that to happen,” she says sincerely.

  I nod and begin walking again. “Are you feeling better?” I glance down at the place on the side of her flat stomach where she was shot.