Page 84 of Best Hex Ever
The hollowness in his core expanded until a dull ache permeated his whole body. This was just how it was going to be now. Eric had told him the pain would lessen with time, but that hadn’t started yet.
The weirdest part of it was that the longer he went without Dina in his life, the more certain he was that what they’d had was that once-in-a-lifetime kind of love. The “I want to grow old with you by my side” kind.
“Just get through tonight,” Scott told his reflection, then placed his speech notes into the pocket of his navy blue suit jacket.
He could hear glasses of champagne clinking together as he walked down the steps into the main atrium. It was already dark outside, being November, but the glow of the lamps and the twinkling of chandeliers—which had been hastily installed earlier that day for the gala—gave the room a sparkling sheen. He had tripped on one of them earlier as it was waiting to be hung.
All the guests were dressed in black tie, with some in elaborate floor-length gowns in deep tones of emerald and vermillion. He shook hands with a few of the museum’s trustees and sponsors, all important people who thought very highly of themselves and their contributions. Not that Scott would ever let them know how he felt.
Instead, he would continue to put on exhibitions, returning artifacts to their home countries and educating visitors about the strange and wonderful parts of their history. But there were quite a few hoops to jump through before he could get there—tonight being one of them.
“And this young man is the mastermind behind Symbols of Protection,” said Dr. MacDougall, walking up to him with an unassuming man, neatly dressed, in tow. “Scott, this is Dr. Benhassi of the Musée d’Orsay.”
Scott shook the man’s hand, not quite believing that he was speaking to the head curator of one of Paris’s largest art collections.
“It’s an honor to meet you, Dr. Benhassi.” Scott smiled. Dr. Benhassi had a kind, open face.
“It is you I should be thanking,” he said, “since it’s just been arranged that the d’Orsay will be hosting your exhibition when it begins its world tour.”
Scott couldn’t believe it. He glanced over at Dr. MacDougall who winked mischievously.
“Is that true?”
“Indeed it is,” she replied. “It was the easiest agreement I’ve ever arranged.”
Dr. MacDougall steered Dr. Benhassi away to meet more of the museum’s curators, and that was a good thing, as Scott’s mind was reeling. His exhibition—hisfirstexhibition—would be going on tour.
And to the Musée d’Orsay in Paris. This was what many curators only dreamed of. He leaned against the cool stone of the atrium wall, sucking in a deep breath.
When the time came to give his speech, Scott was surprised to find that he was no longer nervous. He had spotted Eric and Immy in the audience. As they had slipped in a little late, he hadn’t been able to chat with them beforehand. But seeing theirfamiliar faces there grounded him, even as it also made him more keenly aware that Dina wasn’t there.
He stepped onto the stage that had been erected in front of the entrance to the Reading Room, a large poster of the exhibition hanging behind him. The applause fell silent as Scott reached the microphone, and his heart began to thump traitorously in his chest.
“Thank you all for coming this evening to celebrate the launch of Symbols of Protection.” They weren’t quite the words he’d written on his speech card, but he wasn’t intending to read them verbatim anyway. He continued thanking all the necessary donors, pausing now and again for short bursts of applause.
“Of course, none of our research could have been completed without the assistance of local historians and keepers of the oral history tradition of their homes. Throughout the exhibition you will hear snippets of recordings from interviews we held with these historians, because we should hear the stories straight from their sources.”
That’s when he saw her. Standing in the crowd, among so many others. His heart. She was beaming, her eyes shining with tears. Every second she wasn’t in his arms left him aching, but somehow, Scott finished his speech. He didn’t hear the applause; he barely registered the people shaking his hand and congratulating him as he stepped off the stage.
Dina, Dina, Dina,his heart hammered. But as he moved through the audience, he couldn’t see her.
Someone grabbed his arm.
“She’s over there,” Immy said, pointing toward the Egyptian statues gallery.
Scott walked into the gallery, the sound of the gala growing quiet. All he could hear was his steps on the mosaic tiles. He turned a corner and there she was, waiting for him beneath a statue of Hathor.
Scott wanted nothing more than to hold Dina in his arms and never let her go. She looked radiant in a dark blue dress, made of some kind of slippery satin-like material that hugged her in all the right places. If he had to get on his hands and knees to grovel for her back, he would.
“I—”
Dina held up a hand.
“Please, let me go first,” she said. She stepped toward him, and Scott caught a scent of orange blossom and cinnamon, his heart tripping over itself.
“I am sorry that I ever put you in danger. If that’s enough to make you hate me, then I’ll walk away now. But if—if you still want this, then you should know, I broke the hex.”
His heart filled with hope.
