Page 40

Indy

Four weeks into forever, the Urban Easel reopened for business.

Sully wanted to celebrate by hosting an exhibition, but few artists were available on short notice.

Luckily, my schedule was wide open.

Loren and I raided the storage unit looking for the best of the best to bring to the show.

Canvases I’d painted over the decades were loaded in the back of his new truck—not too new; he gave a serious side eye to anything with a computer in it or, god forbid, an infotainment system—then hauled across town.

I also made sure his new ride could tow the Airstream for our next, less harried, cross-country adventure.

He promised me the Hoover Dam.

And Vegas, of course.

Besides setting the gallery back to rights, we found more permanent homes for Dottie, Abigail, and Gunnar.

Whitney opted to stay at Sully’s apartment, and they both seemed pleased with the arrangement.

I hadn’t been back to the club, but I had been going to meetings, and I got a new pin.

Thirty days sober. Last week, Loren went with me when I worked up the courage to stand and share my story.

Well, the human-approved version of it.

My bravery earned me a pat on the back from Travis, who offered to be my sponsor.

I told him I’d think about it.

Today, I was focused on the caterers setting up chafing dishes and a champagne fountain for my big show.

The gallery was decked out.

Tulle swagged from the ceiling in rainbow stripes, coloring the spotlights that beamed on the watercolors hung on every wall and partition.

The paintings were mostly skyscapes I always thought I’d imagined, but now I knew they were pieces of Heaven.

Loren was around here somewhere.

Last I knew, he and Whitney had been moving the tables out of the storage closet, but I’d lost track of them.

I stood in the middle of everything, holding a clipboard and feeling very official, though all I’d written down so far was outfit ideas for tonight.

A certain lace suit coat called to me, structured so I looked like a professional, and the hot pink color would match my latest dye job.

A pair of caterers laden with linens bustled by, and I glanced around the space in another search for Loren.

It was almost time for lunch, and I had in mind to treat him to hot dogs from the cart down the street.

Might bring some back for Sully and the gang, too.

I thought of Sully about the same time I spotted her, signing papers offered by another man with a clipboard.

I decided his list probably had more important things than the contents of his wardrobe, so I waited until he and Sully were done speaking to approach.

She saw me coming and turned with a grin, dressed more colorfully than her usual boho neutrals in preparation for the evening.

She’d even put on some makeup.

Swaths of pale yellow covered her eyelids and brought out the warmth in her brown eyes as she turned them on me.

“Hi, honey.” She pulled me into a hug.

“Are you ready for tonight? Excited?”

“I think I’m gonna wear pink,” I told her, and she laughed and gave my curls a tousle.

“It does seem to be your color.”

“For now.” I shrugged.

“Next month, who knows?”

She chuckled again as we turned to face the floor side by side.

The repairs had come with a bit of a remodel, and the place looked amazing.

White-painted drywall butted up against the original brick of the structure, and the slick floors reflected every source of light.

With the addition of my paintings and the fabric floating overhead, it looked like we had walked into a prism.

“Have you seen Lore?” I asked after a pause.

“Thought we’d step out for a bite.”

Sully’s lips bent in a contemplative frown as she scanned the gallery.

“I’m sure he didn’t go far.”

Since my near-death experience, Loren had been stuck on me like glue.

I spent the first few days sleeping and waking to find him curled against my side, so present I wondered if he ever left.

By the time I was well enough to eat, he busied himself cooking and bustling around the trailer, doting on me.

He would have spoon fed me if I’d let him.

Maybe I should have.

Then we could have roleplayed some sexy patient/nurse fantasies.

Oh, the missed opportunities.

But I was better now.

It was a strange feeling and, from talking to Loren, I knew he felt the same.

We were less than we had been, but so much more.

More ourselves. And the quiet times we’d shared in recent days felt impossibly intimate.

In a way, I was getting to know him again.

He was happier. Relieved with all the fear and dread that had plagued him for a century finally put to rest.

I wouldn’t die in ten years or even twenty.

I would get old—which I wasn’t particularly excited about—but Loren’s eyes went soft anytime I mentioned it.

I talked about gray hair and wrinkles like they were the scourge of beauty, but he assured me he would cherish every blemish.

And I believed him. Silly man with his old-fashioned sensibilities.

He’d probably think I was cute all liver-spotted and hunched, eating prunes and steamed foods to keep my digestion regular.

Hell, I’d probably think he was cute like that, too.

Whitney emerged from the back corner of the gallery, padding up to join Sully and I.

“Did you guys get the tables?” I asked him when really I wanted to know where my boyfriend had snuck off to and how long my stomach would have to growl before I could fill it.

Whitney’s blond brows knit together as he sidled up to Sully and hooked an arm around her waist.

“Tables?” he asked.

I frowned. “That’s what Loren said. From the closet?”

He looked from me to Sully as if I wasn’t making a bit of sense.

“Where would we even…?” Something in Sully’s gaze brought his response to a halt, and a strange sort of awareness overtook his features.

“Right. Yes. We got them. Everything’s ready.”

Sully smiled and tugged his face to hers for a kiss.

She whispered something that might have been “thank you,” and they were so damn cute I didn’t mind having my lunch plans delayed for another few minutes.

The three of us loitered in silence, watching pedestrians passing the gallery’s windowed front while white-coated caterers flitted about inside, when suddenly everything stopped.

Technically, the caterers stopped, and why were there so many of them?

At least ten men and women in matching jackets, which seemed like it had doubled since the last time I counted.

Music played in the Urban Easel most of the time.

It was ambient, soft and abstract, like what you’d hear on a phone call hold or in an elevator.

It never had words. But now, with the worker bees brought to an abrupt halt in their positions around the gallery, the sound turned up, and the opening lyrics of “Make Me Lose Control” rang out of the hidden speakers.

The caterers started to move with such poise and purpose I began to wonder if they were caterers at all.

It was a dance, coordinated to the beat of the song, and I found myself beaming with delight.

“Oh, my god, it’s a flashmob,” I whispered.

The men and women partnered up for lifts and spins, weaving around the partition walls and seeming to fill the gallery with twirling bodies.

I giggled and clutched the clipboard to my chest, speaking softly as though I would scare them off.

“Lore’s gotta see this.”

Sully swayed to bump her shoulder into mine.

The contact prompted me to glance at her.

Her smile from earlier had returned in force, and her eyes crinkled.

“I think he’s a little preoccupied at the moment.”

“Huh?”

She tipped her chin toward something behind me, and I turned to see Loren standing near the side of the room.

He’d changed out of his sweater and jeans into a gray suit that showcased his svelte form.

Square shoulders, lean arms, a tapered waist, and legs for days.

He wrung his hands at his waist, looking so flushed and nervous I feared he might faint.

Pulling away from Sully and Whitney, I trotted over to him while the catering crew continued to prance the open floor.

Considering his outfit, timely absence, and reappearance in the snazzy getup, I hardly had to ask.

“Did you do this?”

He nodded, causing glossy hair to spill down his chest.

I snagged his arm and pulled myself up to kiss his cheek as it blistered with heat.

Turning toward the performance in progress, I kept my grip on him and laid my head on his bicep.

“It’s amazing,” I gushed.

He brought his other hand over to clasp my wrist, and I thought I felt him tremble.

“I hate it,” he mumbled.

“I don’t know any of these people.”

A laugh bubbled out of me.

“Didn’t you hire them?”

He bounced one shoulder.

“Sully helped.”

The thought of Loren searching the internet or, knowing him, flipping through a phonebook in search of a dance troupe to perform for my exhibition was equal parts amusing and endearing.

I didn’t doubt Sully was eager to assist. She had wanted a celebration, and this definitely counted.

Though, I wondered why they planned it now instead of after guests arrived this evening.

Something like this deserved a crowd.

More than just me.

The song was half over by the time I glanced at Loren again.

He was rigid, gripping my wrist and facing forward and sweating as hard as if he were the one jumping and darting about.

I reached up to pat his cheek and stir him to awareness.

“Are you okay? I don’t think I've ever seen your face so red.”

His eyes found mine, first round and wide, then soft. It was the same way he looked when we talked about our future. About getting old.

Then, he took a step back and dropped gracefully to one knee.

When he fished into his suit coat’s inner pocket, I stifled a squeal.

I thought I’d considered the outfit, and the timely absence and reappearance, and the song… well, I hadn’t thought much about the song besides it being one of my favorites. But I certainly hadn’t considered this. Never in all my lives had I imagined Loren kneeling before me, pulling out a small velvet box and opening it.

“Are you kidding me?” I asked, though he hadn’t said a word. “You’re serious?”

The diamond ring glinted, the music played, and Loren took a deep breath.

“Yes!” I blurted and sank to the floor, flinging my arms around his neck and crushing in close. “Definitely, yes.”

My heart pounded against my ribs, and his beat back just as hard until they thrummed in unison while I smiled myself silly.

After a moment, he sputtered a laugh. “Are you gonna let me ask?”

I shoved backward so I could see him, really see him, and there was eternity in his eyes.

That look alone told me everything I needed to know. Loren was mine, and I was his. I had given myself to him in every life, and this one would be no different.

But, my god, he was kneeling, and there was a ring and a flashmob and Sully and Whitney looking on wearing matching grins. And even though we all knew the answer, some sappy part of me wanted to hear the question.

So, I stood and turned just enough to look coy, then batted my lashes at Loren. “If you must.”

His smile was wavering and oh so sweet as he adjusted his grip on the velvet box. I watched his Adam’s apple bob through a swallow before he spoke.

“Indy, will you marry me?”

With a giggle, I dropped onto him and crushed my lips to his so we could feel each other smile. Between breaths and kisses, I managed to nod, then whisper, “Yes.”

THE END