Page 29 of Sawyer
Shock came, followed by a freaking rush of sweetness. Was it really a surprise that they’d been protective? Nope.
“Do I need to apologize for them?”
“No, not at all.” Her mouth gave a glorious curve. “You are well loved. The scene of them standing under my window whispering about me would have amused audiences in a Shakespeare play, had it been written.”
“Under your window?” He bit his lip to hold back his laughter. “Oh, no!”
“Oh, yes. It pays off to live above the gallery.” She sent him an assuring wink. “Is champagne all right to begin?”
“Absolutely.”
She signaled to the server standing nearby.
“I’m on a roll since I had some earlier.” He scanned the beverage list and pointed to his choice when the man joined them with crisp efficiency. “Deux coupes, s'il vous plaît.”
The server gave a slight bow and headed off as Phoebe played with the aqua ring on her right ring finger. “You should know me and your roommates—minus Thea—had areally good talk. I think I’m growing on Madison. Perhaps like fungus, but still, it’s progress.”
He couldn’t help but laugh. “I should have known they would swing by. I should be scouting galleries myself, but it’s been a roller coaster.”
She traced the table with a nude-painted fingernail. “Are you going to leave me hanging?”
He could feel the news bursting inside him like ignited fireworks. “We weren’t going to talk about work.”
She picked up her menu. “We won’t. But you’re ecstatic about something. Let me guess. You found an agent.”
“I did,” he said with a dopey grin.
Her mouth moved in a cute way, as if she was trying to stop herself from asking more. That did it.
“It’s Beverly Merriweather, and that’s all I’m going to say.”
She lurched up in her seat, her smile shooting across her face. “You got the old battle-axe herself? My God! She’s wanted my dad since— You did good, Sawyer! She’s relentless for her clients?—”
“I know,” he commented, enjoying the feel of his pulse racing in joy. “My friend Axel told me.”
“She reps the big cats and the ones she thinks have what it takes to have their work auctioned off in Sotheby’s.” She took a breath, shaking herself. “We should get a whole bottle of bubbly. This is huge, Sawyer.”
Her happiness for him was all he could have hoped for.
When he was in junior high, he’d begun to realize how many of his friends envied him, especially those in the arts along with him at their private, highly competitive school. They weren’t happy when he accomplished something—like winning a piano contest—an instrument he’d stopped playing the day after he’d gone to college, away from his mother’s constant supervision.
He’d become more of a loner because of that jealousy, turning to books.
Because books couldn’t hurt you.
His roommates were different. So was Nanine. But still, he’d learned how to read people’s reactions. Phoebe had passed the test. He was so happy his feet tapped joyfully under the table.
When the champagne arrived, she lifted her glass, her eyes dancing like the bubbles in her flute. “To your bright future and to even more of your dreams coming true.”
A hard knot appeared in his throat. Her words, her enthusiasm touched a part of him he’d been guarding. When one has a dream, one must nurture the flame carefully, lest someone come along and recklessly cast their ill regard on it and put it out.
God, his inner philosopher was showing, but he didn’t feel he needed to hide it around her.
“Thank you.Santé.”
“Santé.”She took a drink and purred. “Yum. Champagneisbetter in Paris. I don’t have scientific backup. Only experimental observations. Your thoughts?”
He savored the feel of the bubbles against his mouth and the toasty notes. This vintage was less fruity than the one he’d enjoyed earlier but just as delicious. “I agree wholeheartedly, although I never had champagne much outside of Paris. My roommates love to bring it out. Always have. Brooke has the French perspective about drinking champagne before a meal. Of course, Nanine taught us as well.”
