Page 79 of Work: Strictly Professional

A river rises and a dam wall bursts instantly. Hot tears pour down my face. “Is that? Is it…? Is it for m—”

“It’s yours, baby. Happy birthday.”

I collapse into Derek’s arms, kissing every part of him I can find, laughing and sniffling and jumping up and down.

The painting is beyond anything I could have imagined. The background is white. The figure arresting. Lifesize. Posture certain, borderline arrogant. It’s Derek in a dark overcoat and heather-gray scarf, both of which hang open, showing the white shirt beneath it. One knee is dipped, and a hand has been pushed deep into a pocket. His face is smoked out. Features blurred. Hidden but unmistakably there.

Derek steps back when I release him and stands next to the painting, digging a hand into his pocket and bending one knee. “What do you think? Did he capture my likeness?”

“Holy hell,did he ever!” My voice is doing that thing where it cracks on every second word, but I don’t care at all. “It’s you. It’s totally you, Derek. My God.” I start laughing hysterically. “You’re even wearing exactly the same thing. You have the same coat on. The same shirt.” I look from Derek to the portrait of him, and my breath catches.

The Faceless Man and the man of my dreams.

They stand side by side. Each a reflection of the other. Two sides of the same coin. I shake my head in disbelief. “It’s incredible. The detail is amazing. Unreal. It-it even looks like you both have the same thing in your…pocket.” My words slow and falter. It’s true. Derek and The Faceless Man both have something in their pockets. The same thing. Something small. Something square. A hot and cold feeling of terror and joy and rampant excitement washes over me.

Derek, the living, breathing version of him, takes his hand out of his pocket and reveals a small red box with elaborate gold embossing. He steps toward me, smiling so big I can’t help smiling back the same way.

“Quick question,” he says as he opens the box.

There’s a blinding line of fire. A glittering curve of white light.

Derek puts an arm around me and pulls me close to him. So close that even if we weren’t alone, even if we were in a room full of people, I’d be the only one to hear him speak.

“Will you marry me?”

It’s gravel and hope. Today and tomorrow. It’s everything I’ve ever wanted and so much more.

As you know, I usually use my very best effort not to allow myself to scream. It really isn’t a good look on me. Usually, I’m pretty successful at keeping it in.

This is not one of those times.

“Is that a yes?” Derek laughs, trying to catch me as I bounce around the room as if I’m on springs. “Are you saying yes?”

I stop moving and launch myself at him. “Oh, honey, yes, it’s a yes. It’s the yes-est of yesses that ever existed.” I circle his neck with my arms and push myself onto my toes. I kiss him hard and fast, and then softly, slowly, taking my time when I realize I have the rest of my life to kiss this man.

“I love you, I love you, I love you,” I say into his mouth.

When we come up for air, Derek slides the eternity band onto my finger. “They’re French-cut diamonds,” he explains, turning my hand in his to admire his work. “They’re rare. Vintage and timeless. The cut is precise, pretty and hard and soft at the same time. Perfect, like you.”

It is perfect. A dazzling, shimmering strip that winds all the way around my ring finger. It’s tasteful in the extreme, but just excessive enough for it only to be worn successfully by a person who’s a little bit extra.

Me, in other words.

By the time we leave the gallery, I feel like I did the night Derek and I became goo. I feel different, changed. New.

The scent of pine needles and citrus hits me as we walk out of the gallery. I pull up my collar and tuck myself into Derek for warmth. He wraps an arm around me. I think it’s to fight off the cold, but it isn’t. It’s to steady me.

As soon as the first cold blast hits my face, I’m assaulted by loud hoots and applause and the sound of champagne being popped in the street. Ryan and Miller and Bridget and Anton are here, all smiling like total idiots. My mom and dad are holding up a rainbow sign with Congratulations Derek and Wyn painted on it. The two of them have that slightly overwhelmed look they always get when they’re in a city that has a population of more than five hundred thousand people, but their cheeks are ruddy,and I can tell they’re both fighting tears. Gould and Stuart are here too. Gould looks twice as excited as I feel, and that’s saying something. He almost knocks me clean over as he lifts me in a bear hug and swings me around.

Hours and hours later, Derek and I are back in our hotel, in bed. We’re sated and spent, but my heart is still racing. It feels too big for my chest. Like it’s beating out of my body.

“That was the most perfect day of my life,” I say again.

Derek smiles. “That was the first day of the rest of your life.”

35

Derek

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