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But it’s too late. Callie’s a few steps ahead of me, and she freezes in the doorway to the kitchen, her gaze on Theo. She glances from him to me, then back, her eyes narrowing, and I can see the gears turning in her head. “I, uh, didn’t know you had company,” she says.
I clear my throat. “This is Theo Emmerico,” I say, gesturing stiffly at him. “He’s—”
“Lucas’s brother,” Theo says, getting to his feet and extending a hand with a charismatic smile on his face. “I think I saw you at the wedding.”
“Right,” Callie replies as she shakes his hand. “You’re, uh, tall.”
“Callie!” I interject.
“What?” she protests. “It’s true!”
Theo chuckles, running a hand through his tousled locks. “Well, I can’t take credit for that. My dad’s almost six-four. At any rate,” he says, retreating to the hallway, “I’ve got some work to do, so I’d better bow out. It was nice to meet you, Callie,” he adds politely, before turning back to me, that electricity still smoldering in his expression when his eyes meet mine. “Thanks for the tea, kid.”
Then he’s gone, the door to the guest room closing a moment later.
Callie turns to me slowly, mouthing the words,“Oh my god.”
“Dude...” I mutter.
“You didn’t tell me you had a brother-in-law,” she says in a low voice.
“I didn’t know until yesterday.”
“Holy shit.” Callie shakes her head. “He’sgorgeous.”
“You say that about every guy you meet,” I remind her, a wave of jealously sweeping over me.
She shrugs. “What can I say? I appreciate beauty. That’s why I work on the art scene. Oh, and speaking of which...” She plops down on a chair, her eyes dancing with possibilities. “Craig paid us a visit, and you’re never going to believe what he told me.”
“Craig? CraigChapman?” I ask, and for the first time in forever, all my newlywed angst goes flying away. Everyone on the London art scene knows who Craig Chapman is. He’s one of the most successful art dealers in the U.K.—hell, maybe even theworld. He owns the gallery where Callie works, along with two others in Mayfair alone.
“The one and only,” Callie says, nodding.
“You talked to him?”
“He came into the gallery the other day,” Callie explains. “I thought he was going to give me shit for how I handled selling that stupid David Lewiston sculpture last month, but instead, all he could talk about was how the Sterling Gallery let go of their junior assistant last week and still haven’t found a replacement.” She’s practically bursting with excitement. “I wanted to wait to tell you until after your wedding, but I can’t keep it to myself any longer.”
“Keep what to yourself?”
Callie leans forward and touches my arm. “I put your name forward, Vivian. I put your name forward for the assistant position.”
My jaw practically hits the floor. “What are you saying, Callie?” I ask, not able—or notwilling—to comprehend what I’m hearing.
“I’m saying,” my friend replies, “I may have found you a job.”
ChapterFour
“Are you serious?” I ask, even though I already know the answer. For all her wisecracking, I know my friend well enough to tell when she’s yanking my chain... and when she’s not. “I mean, you’re not just shitting me, right?”
I must sound like the most ungrateful person on the planet, but my friend just laughs. “Don’t act so surprised.”
“A real job.” I run my hand through my hair, talking more to myself than to her.
Callie nods. “A real, honest-to-god job. You’ll be doing everything the last assistant did...” She grins. “Except you’ll do it better.”
“But I’m not qualified,” I counter, hardly even hearing the words coming out of my mouth. I’m still trying to wrap my head around the idea that she was able to do this for me.
“Oh, come on,” Callie protests. “You’ve been obsessed with art for as long as I’ve known you.”
