Page 96 of Handle with Care
Chapter Forty
From the privacy of the museum staircase, I text Will.
Maybe I’ve put my foot in it. Lily knows about us
It doesn’t take long for my phone to light up in my hand with Will’s reply. Even though I can’t see him, I can imagine the furrowed brow, the slight frown as he pulls his head down trying to decode my message.
What do you mean?
I mean exactly that. I asked her to unfire you. Then I couldn’t stop my mouth and I told her we’re seeing each other
I see.
She said she’d take it into consideration and I also asked for her approval to have you come as my date tonight
You didn’t.
I sure did
And?
She’ll tell me at 4pm
God, Dylan. I can’t believe you did that. You think that would help the situation?
Definitely. Actually, there was very little thinking involved. Please come tonight?
Tell me what she says at 4pm.
My lips twist, an unexpected pang in my chest.
Do you need her permission? You’re not banned from the museum
I’m probably not welcome, either.
Please? You deserve to celebrate too
There’s a long pause. Then he’s typing and pausing, typing and pausing. It’s enough to make me wild as I wait. Time’s getting on, and there really isn’t time for Will to write me an essay. Finally, a message comes through.
I would walk through a firestorm for you. xxxx
I send a string of hearts and fireworks. And gulp down the swell of feelings that come. It’s my turn to be speechless. Which confirms for me why I’ve fallen in love with Will.
When I get my bearings again, blood pounding in my ears, I start checking out the staircase landings on each level, starting from the rooftop. However, the crates only show up from the executive level to the ground floor, and finally the basement,where the collections are housed, and the downstairs corridor, which leads to the collections space.
I lift lids and shift crates, having taken off my jacket and shirt, down to a pale T-shirt and tan trousers. When I take a short break in the tearoom, leaning against the counter, I find myself unexpectedly staring at the misplaced boxes of exhibition catalogues on the counter and take them immediately to Lily’s office. She’s not there, which I’m not sure is a good thing or a bad thing, but I leave them in front of her desk chair where she won’t miss them.
Then I head back downstairs to continue the hunt. And when I make my way down to the last large crates in the furthest corner, power tool in hand to unfasten the screws, I let out a cry when I at last find the missing exhibits, along with a couple of smaller crates, put inside the larger crate to presumably save space.
I put the cardboard box onto the low crate beside me, opening the lid to peer in. And sure enough, amid the layers of tissue, I see one of the familiar Vivienne Westwood corsets. Quickly, I put the lid back on the crate, then carefully take the box into the prep room.
I was right: the box wasn’t far. But the crate also wasn’t an obvious place for the box of exhibits to end up. Probably a well-meaning tech placed it there in an effort to maximize space. This debacle has got to have aged me ten years.
Glancing at my phone, it’s already 3:30 p.m. I got distracted by the hunt for the exhibits, and I’m still down some helium balloons.
Before I message Lily, I text Will with both the news of the discovery and if he could he please bring in some large helium balloons on his way in before the 5:00 p.m. press conference. Not a tall order. No way.
Chapter Forty-One
