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During moments like these, I find myself wishing for the opportunity to build a family of my own. A family who will love me wholeheartedly, without conditions or stipulations.
Recently, I’ve been daydreaming about the possibility of being a part of Lola and Dylan’s family. The day the three of us spent together gave me a glimpse of what it would be like to be part of something truly special, and I find myself wanting that more than anything.
22
DYLAN
“CAN SOMEONE TELL ME WHY we’re going to an art gallery on a Saturday night?” Cash grumbles. “We’re in New York City; we should hit a club or something.”
“Because mom got us tickets,” Harrison chides him as we walk down the sidewalk toward The Artist, a local art gallery my mom told us about.
Cash lets out a heavy sigh. “Fine. I’ll stay for an hour tops, then I’m out.”
I wish I had a regular office job with fixed hours on days like today. Due to a setback with the Vanburen project, I had to take another last-minute trip to New York.
Cash and Harrison had to join me this time, so Mom seized the chance to organize a family trip to visit Presley and Jack since our meetings were earlier today and Monday morning. They must have been thrilled when my mom announced that the whole family was coming for a visit.
She insisted me and my siblings go out since it’s Saturday night, and she and my dad stayed at Jack and Presley’s place to watch Lola.
It’s not like they’re short on space. When they moved in together last year, Jack insisted on taking charge of finding a place. The result? A massive eight-thousand-square-foot apartment that spans the entire ninetieth floor of a skyscraper and offers a breathtaking view of Central Park.
The property was an off-market deal with multiple interested parties, so Jack made an offer without consulting Presley first. To say she was upset would be an understatement.When he broke the news, she told him off in front of the entire marketing department at Stafford Holdings. My mom was on the verge of a meltdown, thinking they would break up because of it.
The whole thing was quite comical because they made up the same night and didn’t leave Jack’s place for two days. Nothing could keep those two apart.
They ended up moving into the apartment, but Jack learned his lesson about making expensive purchases without consulting my sister. And springing news on her when they’re at the office.
“Will you two stop bickering?” Presley complains to Cash and Harrison. “You’ve been going at it since we left the apartment.” She leans into Jack, who’s glued to her side, with his arm securely draped around her shoulders. “Don’t worry, we don’t have to stay at The Artist for long. I just want to see if the featured artist has anything that would go in my entryway.” She turns to Jack, who clears his throat. “Sorry,ourentryway.”
“That’s my girl,” Jack commends her. “If you find a painting you like, let me know, and I’ll make sure you get it.”
“That’s so sweet.” Presley flashes him a smile.
“Don’t worry, you’ll be thanking me later.” Jack smirks.
“Will you two get a room?” Cash grumbles.
“We have one at home, but it’s more fun getting a rise out of you,” Presley goads him, kissing Jack on the cheek.
Cash makes a gagging motion with his finger in response.
While I’m glad I get to spend time with my siblings, I’m less than enthusiastic that it fell on the weekend. I was hoping to invite Marlow to join Lola and me at another craft class at Brush & Palette—we had a blast the last time she came with us.
But that’s not the only reason I wanted to see her this weekend.
I had hoped we’d finally have one-on-one time together. It’s been a couple of weeks since our conversation in my kitchen when I promised we’d do more than just kiss the next time we were alone. Unfortunately, circumstances have made it so I haven’t been able to make good on my promise yet.
I’ve been on the brink of insanity, not being able to touch her the way I want. It’s absolute torture each night watching her from my home office while she works in her studio and not being able to go over there.
I have this fantasy of laying her out like a canvas and tracing every inch of her with paint. She would look stunning splayed on the floor with a rainbow of colors smudged across her body while I fucked her into oblivion. I may never get the chance to make my fantasy a reality if we’re not able to find a moment alone.
As we round the corner leading to the gallery, we’re met with a line of people stretching down the block. Jack bypasses the queue altogether, and we follow him to the entrance.
“Look,” Presley exclaims with wide eyes. “The artist must paint flowers; how exciting.” She points to a banner on the side of the building—In Bloom: A Textured Floral Journey by Marlow Taylor.
The world around me fades, and it’s difficult to breathe. All the late nights Marlow’s been in her studio flash in my mind like a movie. She mentioned once that she sells her paintings online, so I assumed that’s what she’s been working on.
“Dylan, isn’t your neighbor’s name Mar—” Realization dawns on Presley’s face when she sees my expression. “Something tells me Mom didn’t get us these tickets to check out an art exhibit.”
