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“Hey,” Ezra whispers behind me, coming to wrap his arms around me. “I know you’re upset he isn’t here for your special night. You know he wouldn’t miss it if he had any control.”
Trying to hold back my tears, I give Ezra a watery smile. “I know, and I’m not upset with him. I just worry this is how it starts, that he won’t fit into,” I gesture between us, “thisanymore.”
“I don’t think you have anything to worry about, really, love. Cal loves you.”
“How can you be sure?” He’s certainly never said those words to me, although at one point I might have believed it was going that way. “I don’t want to hold him back.”
“Beth, look at me,” Ezra says softly, angling my chin to meet his eyes. “Your love does the opposite of holding anyone back. We make each other stronger, lift each other up. And tonight, my beautiful, brilliant artist, isyournight.”
I nod, and watch with amusement and growing arousal as Ezra kneels before me and guides my feet into my red high heels. He places a light kiss on the inside of each knee as he goes, running his hands up my body as he pulls us both to stand.
Stepping back, he lets out a low whistle. “It’s a damn shame we have to cover this with a dress, though.” His eyes rove over my body, appreciating my lacy black bodysuit and thigh-high stockings.
My smile is full of promise for later, and he sighs as I step into my charcoal grey pencil dress. He pulls the zipper up slowly, his warm breath fanning over the back of my neck when his fingers reach the top.
“When the party is over,” he says in a low voice that rumbles against my skin. “I’m going to strip this dress off you, and tie your hands behind your back with this.” He clasps the red belt around my waist. “And then I’m going to video call Cal and make him watch me fuck you so good he’ll remember how much jerking off to your pictures is nothing compared to being deep inside your hot, wet pussy.”
“Ezra,” I whimper.
“Are you sufficiently distracted, my love?” He says jokingly.
“Yes,” I admit begrudgingly. “But you better make good on those promises, because I’ll be thinking about it all night. It’ll be as bad as the butt plug.”
My eyes nearly cross when I think about that night. But the heat from my memory fizzles when I remember how loving and attentive they both were with me. And how for those last couple days before Cal left, we lived for nothing other than each other, laughing and making love and talking about the future.
Ezra brings me back to the present. “That was definitely a night for the books,” he says with a similar faraway look in his eyes.He shakes himself out of it and adjusts his suit pants. “Come on, it’s time to make your debut.”
Since I decided to do this exhibition on my own, we get to the gallery early enough to let the caterers in and do any last-minute adjustments. Ezra would have preferred I arrive after the guests like any other featured artist, but the routine helps me calm my nerves. The only difference is that instead of setting everything up the way I think a particular artist would like; I’m setting it up forme.
Myart covers the walls of this exhibition.Mywork and talent are on display for everyone to see. Just a few months ago, the mere thought of putting myself out there like this would have made me nauseous. But I feel confident and proud. Even if no one shows, I’m proud of the work I’ve done and seeing it up on a gallery wall feels like a huge accomplishment. Not just because of the work itself, but because I’ve grown so much as a person.
Thanks to the way they have loved me, I’m starting to find it in me to love myself.
As proud and confident as I am, I’m still amazed by the crowd of people that enter when the doors are opened. The art critics and collectors, the press, and all the people I recognize from being in Mr. Gregg’s circle, they’re all here. I shake so many hands, accepting congratulations and trying not to freak out when my phone starts pinging with notifications of bids onmyart. I have to turn the whole phone off so I can focus on anything else.
“I believe you’re a bonafide success,bláth fiáin.”
My breath hitches and I spin around towards that familiar, rumbly voice. Cal stands before me, holding a bouquet of fluffywhite dandelions. Some of the seeds have scattered on the arm of his slightly rumpled black suit. His auburn hair has gotten longer, along with his beard. His eyes look tired, but they twinkle down at me as his mouth stretches into a wide grin.
“Cal?!” I gasp, and launch myself into his arms, accidentally sending a pouf of dandelion seeds through the room. His mouth meets mine in a passionate kiss as we crush ourselves against each other. He holds me against his body and twirls me around.
A few people give us curious looks, their eyes darting to us and then over to Ezra. When he sees what the commotion is, however, a grin spreads across his face and he rushes over to hug his best friend.
“This is a surprise,” Ezra says. “I thought you couldn’t come.”
Cal scoffs. “As if anyone or anything could keep me away. I’m sorry I’m late, though. There were delays.”
Tears mist my eyes as love and gratitude for these two men fill me the way only they can. Sometimes I still have moments where I wonder if I’m living in a hallucination, or if this is just some really elaborate prank. This is definitely one of those moments, especially after all the anxiety I’ve had over him being away. I still can’t believe that either of these amazing, accomplished, talented, drop-dead sexy men are mine. But they both are. And I am theirs.
The rest of the night passes in a dreamlike haze. The BEC pulled in more sales from my debut than any exhibition I’ve ever been part of; the critics were incredibly flattering, and best of all I had Cal and Ezra by my side the entire night. More than one person mentions how much Bobby Vandreth is going to be kicking himself for letting me get away, and that The Gregg ishopeless without me.
The only thing that could ruin my night happens as people are filtering out.
I overhear one of the press people that occasionally partners with World Traveler Magazine ask Cal, “How long are you in town?”
“Just for the night, I’m afraid, but we’ll catch up the next time I’m in town.”
As tears threatened to spill, I take a shaky breath and tell myself to pull it together. I’d hoped he’d be here for at least a few days, more than just one night at the very least. We hired a couple of people to help with the gallery during the day when it’s less busy; I hoped Ezra and I could take a few days off and play hooky from his classes so we can all be together.
