Page 61 of Our Secret Summer

“What if I don’t?”

“Then I will know what it feels like to make a bad investment.” Raffo grinned. “I might have to hide away from the world in the house in Big Bear you would still own and would have to let me stay at.” Raffo peered into her eyes. “All jokes aside, you have forty years of experience in advertising. I wouldn’t offer you this money to invest in some obscure internet coin. I’m offering it to you as an investment in your new company, in you, and in your happiness, which means a lot to me.”

“In that case.” Dylan maneuvered herself on top of Raffo. “I’ll think about it for the allocated twenty-four hours and by thinking, I mean doing this.” Dylan peppered kisses all over Raffo’s neck until her entire body shook with laughter beneath her.

CHAPTER 40

Butterflies somersaulted in Raffo’s belly—and not the good kind. Just like the very first time she’d walked into the Connor Hart Gallery, her nerves were aflutter. But this time, years after that initial meeting, it wasn’t because she was anxious about meeting the hot new gallerist in town. It was because she was sleeping with his mother.

There was only one way through it—by doing it. She opened the door, greeted Connor’s assistant, and headed straight for his office.

“Hey.” Connor studied her from his chair, taking a long appraising look before rising for their usual hello kiss. “Good dinner?” he asked as he hugged her.

“The best.” God, this was weird. This was not the casual vibe Raffo enjoyed between them. She missed their easy friendship, but this awkwardness felt like a necessary toll for the happiness she’d found. The way Dylan looked at her, touched her, made every uncomfortable moment worth enduring. Still, sitting across from Connor now, she wished she could fast-forward through this particular growing pain.

“Let’s skip the usual details,” Connor said, settling back in his chair. Unlike her other gay male friends who avoided any mention of female intimacy, Connor had never been squeamish about such things.

“Words can’t express my gratitude, so I won’t even try,” Raffo said, attempting to lighten the mood with their usual banter. She thought it was the best way forward. The sooner they could laugh about it, the better. “But still.” This did need to be said. “Seriously, Con. Thank you. It means so much to me.”

“I want you to be happy, Raff, and as my boyfriend has been telling me every day since he went home, my happiness isn’t more important than my best friend’s, let alone my own mother’s.”

“I’m aware that this is not effortless for you.” Raffo took a seat at Connor’s desk.

“Murray’s very proud of me.” His smile didn’t quite reach his eyes, uncertainty lingering at its edges. “Especially of the little card with your very own rainbow heart on it. That was a lovely touch, even if I do say so myself.”

“I hope you had the required copyright to have that printed onto a card. I hear licensing deals go for a lot of money these days.” Raffo couldn’t suppress a grin.

“I got it directly from the artist who happens to be my friend.” His eyebrows danced with familiar mischief. “I’m also quite tight with her agent-slash-gallerist, who is awesome, by the way. Have you met him?”

“I have and you’re right. He is a remarkable dude.” Raffo hesitated, but only for a split second. “You should meet his mom, though.”

Connor burst into a chuckle. “His mom most certainly is something else as well.” He leaned over the desk. “She’s not exactly aging gracefully—getting it on with younger people and everything. Women, no less.”

“No fucking way!Women!You’d best get her head examined quickly.”

They both laughed it off and maybe that was the thing with a friendship like theirs—it was strong enough to withstand this kind of initial tension. They wouldn’t be going on family vacations any time soon, but their love for each other was big enough to adjust to this unique situation.

“We need to talk business, Raff,” Connor said. “We have a job to do. Your Chicago show is approaching swiftly.”

“I was thinking,” Raffo relaxed into her chair. She could talk business, which equaled discussing her work, with Connor all day long. “I might have quite a few new pieces of work to show by then, after all.” Ever since her night with Dylan, Raffo hadn’t been able to shake the initially preposterous idea of a painting of her and Dylan together. It was what she wanted to paint most of all and if she’d learned one thing the past few months, it was not to ignore that particular persistent voice inside of her—no matter how absurd it might sound at first.

Connor reclined, amusement flickering across his face. “New work, huh? You mean in the ‘I’m Crazy About Your Mom Collection’?”

Raffo couldn’t help but chuckle. “Let’s just say the muse has been generous.”

“Do I even want to know?” Connor raised an eyebrow.

“Don’t worry, I won’t be painting your mom as Venus rising from the sea,” Raffo teased. “But I’ve had some very inspiring ideas…”

Raffo was certain this would pique his interest, despite the subject of her new work.

“Go on.” Connor nodded.

“I’m thinking of a series that captures moments of transition,” Raffo explained, still feeling a touch insecure but her enthusiasm growing by the second. “Those in-between states where everything’s changing but nothing’s settled yet. Like dawn breaking, or the moment just before a storm hits.”

Connor gave her an encouraging look. He lived for conversations like this. Nonetheless, she considered her next words carefully.

“Dylan’s at this incredible point in her life. She’s rediscovering herself, embracing new experiences. It’s like watching someone emerge from a cocoon. I want to capture that energy, that sense of transformation.” The words tumbled out easier than expected, fueled by the same passion that had kept her up half the night sketching. It wasn’t just Dylan’s transformation she wanted to capture—it was her own too, this shift from seeing Dylan as forbidden to seeing her as possibility incarnate.

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