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I turn to face him, moving my hand to Marlow’s lower back, and tug her closer to my side. “Who’s your friend?” I ask as I pause briefly before extending my hand to the man.
“My name’s Gavin.” He gives me a firm handshake, unphased that I stepped in between them. “It’s nice to meet you.” That’s when I notice his wedding ring.
“Gavin is one of my dearest friends and is a curator at The Artist. He set up my show,” Marlow chimes in as she gives my chest a reassuring pat.
I grumble an acknowledgement. Friend or not, I don’t like the way he touched Marlow or that he called her babe. I may be acting irrational but it’s difficult not to let my emotions take over when Marlow’s involved.
“Why didn’t you tell me about this? It’s incredible.” I gesture around the gallery.
Regardless of the reason, I wish she would have extended an invitation so I could have been here for her from the start. I know it shouldn’t, but it bothers me that another man is her primary source of support tonight when I wish it was me.
I’ll do everything to make sure the next time it is.
“I didn’t want to bother you when you had so much going on. Besides, it’s only a small gallery showing. It’s not that big of a deal,” she says, doing her best to downplay the situation.
“Not a big deal? You’re joking, right?” Gavin scoffs. “Marlow, several patrons flew in from Europe to attend your show tonight. If that isn’t proof enough that thisisa big deal, we’ve sold all but one of the pieces in your collection, and the exhibition just started thirty minutes ago.”
“I’m buying the last painting,” I say to Gavin.
“Are you sure? It’s the most expensive in the collection. It’s ninety—”
“The cost doesn’t matter. I want it,” I state, leaving no room for argument.
“Consider it done.” He glances between Marlow and me with a knowing look. “I’m going to mark that painting as sold. It was nice to meet you, Dylan.” He strides away, leaving Marlow and me locked in an intense staring match.
“You have no idea what painting you bought. What if you hate it?” Marlow splutters as she steps out of my embrace.
“You made it. Of course I’ll love it,” I say with conviction.
She stares at me, stunned speechless by my declaration. After a few seconds, her eyes turn stormy, and she grabs my arm, tugging me toward the back of the gallery and away from the crowd. She doesn’t stop until we’re standing in a hidden alcove away from prying eyes. She releases my arm, turning to address me.
“I thought you were on a business trip,” she says skeptically.
I anxiously run my hand through my hair. “I was… I am,” I clarify. “I had business meetings this morning, and my mom suggested the whole family fly out for the weekend to stay with Jack and Presley. She’s the one that suggested my siblings and I come here tonight.”
Marlow lets out a humorless laugh. “Quinn mentioned your mom came into Brush & Palette last week. I wouldn’t put it past Quinn to mention my show. Your mom will stop at nothing until we get together, huh?”
“I hope not,” I admit.
Initially, I found her meddling in my romantic life far from amusing, especially when she was determined to set me up with Marlow. However, now I’m thankful for her interference because it’s the only reason I’m here tonight.
“Dylan?” Marlow whispers.
“Yeah?”
“It doesn’t matter how it happened. I’m glad you’re here.”
“Me too, sunshine.” I walk us backward until she is pinned against the nearest wall, her eyes locked on me.
I’m tired of dancing around the inevitable truth that Marlow and I belong together, and I have every intention of giving her a taste of what it would be like to be mine.
“What are you doing?” she asks softly.
“Close your eyes,” I order.
“Dyla—”
“Trust me?”
