Page 94 of Handle with Care
“Please come to the museum later,” I entreat, giving him my most hopeful—and what I’d like to think is an irresistible—look. Then I lick my lips.
His attention is rapt on me, fixed on my mouth. Will at last relents, searching my eyes, fidgeting with the edge of the sheet. “We’ll see, alright? I can at least meet you after, if you wish.”
“As long as you’re feeling better. Either way.” This time, I make an effort at a serious expression.
“I’m feeling better,” he confirms. Thank God. My guilt can take a back seat, as though I’m the cause of his migraines. Or at least very much a part in enhancing them.
After another kiss, I reluctantly get up and get ready to face the museum while I process the last day. Having a few hours to myself will be a good thing to let my brain catch up with my body.
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Approaching the museum, anxiety grips me like it’s my first day all over again. Except this time, there’s no Will to splash me with his McLaren. Though the rain puddles are vast enough with the afternoon’s rain, which comes in fits. As I walk along the streets, I keep away from the puddles in case of more splashes by cars. I swing home long enough to yell hi to Russ and change my clothes, plus grab a jacket for the evening’s event, a dark denim blazer.
The moody afternoon has the first hint of autumn around the corner, and the first leaves are starting to turn on our street. I hopped a bus to the station to make better time, and I’m arriving at 1:00 p.m. as requested. I may be a pariah right now to my boss and director, but at least I’m a punctual pariah. Courtesy’s always a win.
When I enter, Carine smiles at me from behind the reception desk, gesturing me close. “I’m relieved to see you,” she whispers conspiratorially.
I blink. “Did you worry you might not?”
“Yes. Everyone was saying on Friday that you were fired, too, when you left early. It’s been a bit of a scandal to have both interns fired in the same week.” She gives me a meaningful look.
“How’s that a scandal?”
“Scapegoating the people with the least power,” she continues softly, so quiet I have to lean in to hear. “Rumor has it the board of directors and the advisory committee have heard about the missing exhibits. On top of Will getting fired and you maybe getting fired too. They’re not amused. There were meetings yesterday afternoon till late.”
“Wow.” I blink, giving an expansive gesture with my arms. “’Kay. Here I am. Give the people what they want. Clearly.”
A giggle escapes Carine, who shakes her head at me. I’m not going to lie: it’s a relief to hear I’m probably not fired now. Carine’s a fairly reliable source since she books the meetings and keeps tabs on everyone.
“Well, I better find Lily.” Nerves are definitely getting the better of me, because I’m jiggling the keys in my pocket till Carine gives me a pointed look. I stop, then take in a deep breath and make a concerted effort to relax my shoulders.
Stand tall, Dylan. You’ve got this.
“Good luck,” she whispers.
“Thanks. Also: I might need your help later.”
“Oh?”
I put my finger to my lips and smile. Then I wink and slip off to go upstairs to Lily’s office. I give the lift a miss and take the stairs two at a time. As I trot up the concrete stairs and reach the landing that leads to the executives’ floor, I see one of the holding areas where the techs have stashed some extra crates. Shit, how could I have forgotten? I bet nobody’s checked the crates. They’ll be looking for exhibits instead.
Putting that thought aside for the minute, I hurry along to Lily’s office, where the door is slightly ajar. I gulp down some air to help me not put my foot in my mouth as usual, like the extra oxygen is a preventative measure. Or possibly gives me more fuel to burn.
I consciously relax my body like I used to do in my dance classes, shifting my weight from foot to foot to loosen up. Then I knock on the door.
“Come in,” Lily calls from her desk as she lifts her head.
“Hi.” I slip into the small room. There’s no window except for the glass wall that faces the corridor. The fluorescent lights are bright against the white walls.
“Dylan. Please. Sit.” She gestures at a guest chair.
I sit.
“Thank you so much for coming in on short notice. Your flexibility is very much appreciated.”
She doesn’t even know the half of it.
“Am I fired?” I give her the shape of a smile, though I don’t feel it. More like I might throw up. Nerves. They ruin everything. Was that the wrong thing to say? I don’t need to encourage that idea.
