A deep voice came from beside me. “You’re Sybil, right?”
He looked familiar. Tall and rangy and handsome in a way that most men in LA weren’t, but I couldn’t place him, so I decided to bluff my way through. “Right! And you’re… Tim?”
“Jamie,” he corrected, but he didn’t seem upset. “I have some mutual friends with your friend Nikki.”
The realization of who he was clicked into place. I had seen him at a few parties, but I’d been so tangled up about Sebastian, other men hadn’t really registered for me. “I was so close to saying ‘Jamie.’”
“Were you?” He smiled down at me in genuine curiosity.
“Absolutely. It was my next guess.”
I expected him to come at me with a line—come here often?—but he just turned back to the painting. I wasn’t sure if I should fill the silence, but Jamie seemed content just to stand besideme and look at the piece. With most art, I usually felt a zing of recognition immediately or not at all. I hadn’t felt that initial sizzle with this painting, but still, something about it made me want to keep standing here. Like maybe if I took my time, gave it a second look, I’d uncover something magical about it I’d missed at first glance. I took another sip of champagne and let my eyes rove over the painting. The rhythm of the pigments exploding across the canvas tugged at something within me. I stood beside Jamie, letting the tendril of sensation dig deeper until I felt the work unfurling.
“It’s really quite lovely,” I said softly.
“It really is,” Jamie agreed quietly, not taking his eyes from the piece. I pulled my attention away from the painting and let myself look at him, feeling another tendril begin to work itself through my chest. But before it could grow any further, a warm arm came around my shoulder.
Chloe, whose chic bob of straight black hair made me, with my pale blond frizz, look like a dandelion, pulled me into a hug. “Thanks for coming, Sybil.”
“I wouldn’t miss it. I’m so proud of you!” I returned her hug. It was amazing to see all of my friends’ potential start to get realized. Emma had just gotten a promotion at her design firm back in New York, Willow had eloped with her boyfriend the year before, and Nikki was going to be on national TV! Chloe and I pulled apart, and I turned to introduce her to Jamie.
“Oh, this is your piece?” He gestured with his wine glass. “It reminds me of one my dentist has.”
I watched Chloe’s face shut down. “Gee, thanks,” she said tightly. “Sybil, I’ll catch you after, okay?” She gave my handa quick squeeze and pivoted away from us to begin talking to someone else.
Jamie looked horrified as his eyes darted from me to the painting to Chloe’s disappearing back. “I feel like an ass. I meant—oh god.” He ran a hand down his face. “My dentist is a big collector.”
“You probably should have led with that.”
“Her piece reminded me of a Frankenthaler he has. God, why did Isaythat? I just… panicked.” He took another long pull of champagne.
“Chloe loves Frankenthaler. She’s definitely an influence. You should have just said that.”
“I know. I know.” He dragged his fingers through his hair. “I always get nervous talking to strangers.”
“I’m basically a stranger, and you don’t seem nervous with me,” I countered.
“Maybe you’re just special, Sybil Rain.” Something about the way he said my full name made me feel fizzy, like the champagne bubbles in our glasses. Then Jamie’s smile grew wider as he added, “Plus, I’d hardly say we’re strangers. Just last weekend at Lizzie’s twenty-fifth, you used my lap as a step stool to climb on the kitchen counter and perform that Sabrina Carpenter song.”
“I did?”
“I don’t think you even noticed there was someone sitting in the chair.”
Clearly, I hadn’t. But Jamie didn’t seem offended, more just amused. “Chloe is a very sweet person,” I said, turning back to look at her painting, which Jamie had accidentally likened todentist office art. “I’ll tell her what you meant to say, and that you weredevastatedto have offended her.”
Jamie downed the rest of his champagne in one go. “Thanks. You know, the nice thing about art is that it—usually—doesn’t talk back to you. So you don’t have to worry about sounding like an idiot.”
“A great cure for feeling like an idiot is more champagne.” Maybe it was that this was my first night out and about as a single person since Sebastian, or maybe it was the easiness I felt being around Jamie, but I had a sudden compulsive urge to keep the night going, to add a little excitement to it. “Do you want to swipe a bottle of champagne and sneak up to the roof?”
He tilted his head like he wasn’t sure if I was being serious.
“Come on, live a little, Jamie…” I paused. I had no idea what his last name was.
“Kauffman,” he supplied.
“Thank you. So? What do you say?”
Now it was Jamie’s turn to hesitate. I took in his crisp blue suit, the briefcase in his left hand. Clearly this guy had some kind of corporate job. He was polished, clean-cut. A little awkward, in an adorable way. Basically, he was the exact opposite of Sebastian. There was no way this guy was going to jump on board with my spontaneous plan.
