Ignoring the swell of emotions, I take another sip of bottled water and look around the room. With all of these packages coming in for the event this weekend, the gallery is in chaos. Lord help me. With my fingers playing with the ends of my hair, I let out an uneasy sigh at the sight of boxes piled high into tall stacks on either side of the doorway. Martin, a.k.a. my hero on days like these, needs to get in here and manhandle these cardboard suckers to the back. My pathetic semblance of upper body strength has already lost this war and I know we’re expecting another dozen or so shipments today and tomorrow.
Everything from the upcycled plates and artsy champagne glasses, to spotlights for the featured artists is packed in those boxes. Every little detail has been carefully considered and for the first time ever, I didn’t need approval for these purchases. Typically we have a budget and I make the arrangements, but every bit is cleared by Mandy before I can spend a cent and reserve a darn thing.
“This is all you,” Mandy told me with a nod of approval I’ve been after for years. She has plans to attend as a guest with “fresh eyes,” so everything needs to be perfect. It will be. I’m doing everything I can possibly think of to highlight the old, while also celebrating the new and the colorful future ahead. Color is the theme and I’m bringing it in spades.
Checking my phone as it dings in my hand, I receive an alert that a package is delayed. A puff of air leaves me and tousles the strand of hair in front of my face. It’s only until tomorrow, according to the update. My anxiousness revs up and I shudder before texting Martin if he knows what time he’ll be in so I can figure out my own schedule. Technically it’s his day off; he’s only coming in to help because I asked. Yet another reason he’s my hero.
Before I can hit send, the chime at the front door goes off and I spin around, my dress twirling as I do, already filled with gratitude that he came in early. The greeting of “thank goodness” vanishes at the sight of Robert in faded jeans and a simple black tee.
“Hey,” I say then breathe out, and my entire body heats. Partially because he knows that’s my favorite look on him. The top bit of his hair is a little messy, completing the good ole boy look he’s got today. When he’s not in a suit, and laid back like this, it reminds me of when we were younger.
The other part of me is riddled with nerves, and that piece of me has my hands hiding in my dress pockets and my teeth biting down on my bottom lip. I haven’t seen or spoken to him since the proposal and paternity test text, respectively. With my heart fluttering I ask, “What are you doing here?”
The second he smiles, everything eases inside of me. His presence is calming, but my heart still races, not wanting comfort and wanting something else instead. Maybe it’s a desire for forgiveness that keeps me choked up.
As selfish as it may be, a part of me wants him to tell me he’s not upset at all. That everything is all right.
Ever the charming one, he lets his gaze settle on my dress for a moment then comments, “Don’t you look beautiful?”
With a hint of warmth rising up my cheeks, I know he made me blush. “Well, thank you,” I respond and tuck my hair behind my ear.
“What’s all this?” he asks.
“I’m doing inventory for the gala.” I add in a lowered voice, not hiding my dread, “There’s so much that still has to be done.”
“You need help?” he asks as if everything’s just fine. As if it’s any other day and the last week didn’t happen at all.
Staring into Robert’s soft blue gaze, the last thing I can even think about is him helping me. The question escapes before I can help myself. “Are we okay?”
All I hear in the back of my head is a voice telling me, “No. Of course we aren’t.” All I can see is how the cords in his neck strain when his smile turns tight and his gaze drops. He doesn’t respond for a long moment, and I know it’s because he’s doing everything he can not to get emotional.
“Robert … I, um …” The word sorry is lost on my lips when he shushes me, like he knows exactly what’s on my mind. “It’s okay,” he starts. His long strides eat up the distance between us but before he can say another word, the chime goes off again.
I anticipate it being Martin and with my mouth open to greet him in thanks, I peer beyond Robert only to have it instantly close again.
Oh my goodness, I have the worst luck in the entire world.
“Hey there,” Brody says to me although his gaze moves from my navy dress and matching flats to Robert, who meets his gaze with his once smiling lips now pressed into a firm, straight line.
“Hey yourself,” I answer with a bit less excitement than I aimed for, although my smile stays in place. My throat’s tight and dry all of a sudden. I can’t imagine why. If we were alone, it would be different … it would be easy. Still scary, though, and full of uncertainty. That’s the realization I’ve come to. I’m scared of letting go of Robert, but I’m also scared of what Brody makes me feel.
Tingles race down my arms and the back of my neck pricks after seeing both of these men in the same room together. Both of them aware I’ve been with the other one, and both of them having to take a test to see who the father of my child is. Both of them staring at the other with the tension in the room growing.
“What a morning it is,” I comment half-heartedly and let out an awkward huff of a laugh before clapping my hands in front of me. Awkwardness is apparently my middle name now. To add insult to injury, I don’t think it helped to break the tense mood in the room and now they’re both staring at me. All I’ve got for either of them is a nervous smile.
“I can come back—” Brody starts to say, gesturing to the door although the look in his puppy dog eyes is at complete odds with his offer.
Robert’s voice is casual enough as he interrupts Brody. “That’d be great—”
“You don’t have to,” I say, cutting off Robert without meaning to and then share a look with him before returning my focus to Brody. Speaking over each other only adds to the awkward atmosphere.
“I’m working,” I say to remind them both and clear my throat, “but I’m happy to see you two.” My nerves rear their ugly heads again and my voice wavers when I tell them, “I wanted to say thank you for going through with …” My hand waves as if there’s a gesture for a paternity test. “Thank you both for the … samples.” If only I could summon a hole in the ground to swallow me up in this moment.
“No problem,” Brody answers easily and Robert speaks up just as quickly, but seemingly more rushed, “Yeah, no problem.” The two men stare at each other a second too long, and yet again all the while I can barely stand to look at either.
“I just … I’m sorry I didn’t do it sooner so you’d know.” Sincerity threatens to bring on more emotion than I’d like, so I move back to the counter and gather up the invoices and confirmations of everything I’d laid out this morning, pretending I don’t feel like every inch of me is on fire with embarrassment. Is that it? I don’t even know what I’m feeling because it’s all too overwhelming.
Suck it up, buttercup, I nearly mutter out loud as my focus stays on the papers while simultaneously not reading a single one of them. I stack them as if I’m putting them in order, but I haven’t a clue what’s what as I pile them together.