Page 58 of Meeting Mr. Adorkable
“No, Luci, you don’t. I’ve known that for a while now. Sometimes you take them off, but you’re not always so careful about putting them back on as you seem to think.”
“I’ve kind of got used to them,” he whispered.
“Then it’s time to get unused to them. You don’t need a mask. Whatever made you hide, you don’t have to do it anymore. But it’s up to you whether you put them back on. I’m not going to force you either way, but it’s time to break the habit. Don’t you think?”
Bibi’s words mirrored Arlo’s. They were both right. Wearing the glasses was a habit, and habits could be broken. Yet, he chewed down on his lower lip, still unsure. But Bibi knew… Bibi, who wasn’t just his employer but his good friend.
He drew in a deep breath as he shook his head; he’d glimpsed a different man today, a man he wanted to know more of, and to see again.
“Keep hold of them,” he said, his voice rough, “until we get back.”
“And then?”
“I don’t know.”
Bibi slung her arm around his shoulders and pulled him in for a kiss on the cheek. “Come on, we need to head back. Arlo’s waiting for you to do him proud.”
CHAPTERTWENTY-NINE
Nerves tickled Lucian’s skin as he approached the gallery. A group milled around outside, and even from across the square, he could hear excited chatter. This was Arlo’s big night, and he was late. As though on cue, his cell pinged as a text dropped. He read it quickly, and tapped in a response before slipping it into the inside pocket of his jacket.
“Arlo?” Bibi asked.
“Yep. Wondering where I am. Panicking. But I did promise I’d be here when it started.”
Bibi squeezed his shoulder. “There was nothing we could do about it. But you’re here now, and he’s going to forget all about his panic as soon as he sees you.”
She was right about there being nothing they could have done to get back earlier. An accident had forced them onto the back roads, adding precious time to the journey home. But as to making Arlo forget all about his fear of the evening ahead, he wasn’t so sure, even with the new look and the new haircut. His hand found the back of his neck, the absence of hair unfamiliar and strange.
At the door, a tall and impeccably groomed young woman inspected their tickets before smiling and inviting them to go in.
“That dress is from…” Bibi whispered, naming a couture house Lucian had never heard of. “Genuine, and no change out of five grand. I’m meeting some friends, and we’re going to stage a full on assault on the canapés. Go find your man, Luci, and watch his jaw drop.”
The gallery comprised a central viewing room with a couple of smaller ones coming off it. Chattering crowds filled every corner. As he eased his way through with smiles and apologies, a few heads turned his way before doing a double take. Where was Arlo? In the crush he couldn’t see him anywhere, and even pushing himself up on tiptoes to try to see over what looked like hundreds and thousands of heads proved useless.
“Lucian. Oh, my.” Jonas appeared in front of him, his shrewd eyes openly appraising as he took his time to look him up and down. “Have you turned into a swan? You look incredible, a fully realized work of art.”
“A swan? Thanks. I think. But it kind of implies I was an ugly duckling before.” Lucian’s stomach clenched; it sounded too much like the truth.
“No, absolutely not. Your plumage was a little dowdy, perhaps, but now it’s resplendent.” Jonas smiled, but it made Lucian think of a fox eyeing up a rabbit. Or a duckling. “Let me get you a drink.”
Jonas beckoned to a passing waitress circulating with a tray of champagne flutes. Picking one up, he passed it to Lucian, who took a sip.
“Now you’re refreshed, let me take you to the man of the hour.” Jonas leaned in close as he guided them through the crowd, one hand resting on Lucian’s lower back. “Several pieces have already been reserved. Far, far more than would normally be at this stage of a showing. Your Arlo is a very talented man, and he’s going to make quite the name for himself. He’s also very lucky, very lucky indeed,” he added, his voice dropping.
Oh, no… First Alejandro, and now Jonas, but at least the gallery owner hadn’t winked at him. Yet.
“Ah, here he is. Arlo, your very own exquisite piece of art.”
Arlo, in the center of a knot of people, turned. He was clutching a glass, his smile fixed, terror blazing in his deep hazel eyes. Just as Bibi had predicted, Arlo’s jaw dropped, his nerves replaced by wonder. His Red Sea of admirers parted to let him through until the two of them stood just scant inches apart, the noise and crush of the crowd fading.
“You—you look…”
Lucian brought his hand to the back of his neck, feeling once again for the heavy fall of hair that was no longer there.
“Blame Bibi. She decided I needed a makeover. It’s what we were doing today. We weren’t at a flower fair. I’m sorry I lied to you. I’m not sure about it, though. The hair, or lack of, and everything—”
“Shut up and come here.”
