To Sir, with Love

by Lauren Layne

  I smile. “Gotta love a good bow.”

  “You like kids?”

  “I do. I certainly hope for some of my own someday,” I say, thinking of Lily and the heartache of her fertility struggles. “Though lately I’ve made the decision to do a little less hoping and a little more acting.”

  He holds my gaze questioningly, and I twist my fork in the air as I chew, trying to figure out how to describe it.

  “It’s been brought to my attention recently,” I say, setting my fork down, “by myself, that I’ve been living in a bit of a fantasy world.”

  “Fantasy as in the fairies you like to paint, or fantasy as in… you know.” He makes a playful hubba-hubba motion with his eyebrows that seems both completely unlike him, yet somehow perfectly natural, reminding me how many layers this man seems to have.

  “More like the castle-and-white-knight variety. Except the knight’s a musician with tattoos and a little belly.”

  He blinks. “You lost me.”

  I find myself telling him everything. Not about Sir and him declining to want to move our relationship beyond what it is now. That’s too private—too fresh. Too painful.

  But I tell Sebastian all about my penchant for fairy tales. My tendency to focus on what could be rather than what is. My hesitancy to really, truly throw myself into the things that matter the most out of fear they won’t live up to what I’ve built up in my mind.

  “It’s a real problem,” I finish with a sigh.

  “I don’t know that it’s a bad thing to know what you want,” he says thoughtfully.

  “No. But I’m learning it’s a bad thing when you’re so focused on what you think you want that you don’t see what’s right in front of you,” I reply slowly.

  Sebastian’s fork freezes for just a fraction of a second, his fingers seeming to tighten on the utensil, his eyes flicking up to mine. The second our gazes clash, it’s like that first day on the sidewalk all over again, all crackle and butterflies and Frank Sinatra.

  “I know the feeling,” he says quietly, still holding my gaze.

  My stomach turns over on itself, and because these sort of feelings—these real-life feelings—are so very new to me I look quickly back down at my plate.

  When I look up again, he’s gone back to eating his steak, though there’s a quiet tension between us now. Not uncomfortable. Just… knowing.

  The server comes to clear away our plates with promises to bring the dessert menu, and Sebastian wipes his mouth, then drops the napkin into his lap, leaning forward, forearms on the table. “Can I ask you something?”

  “Sure.”

  “Where are you at with the other guy? Mr. Complicated.”

  It’s the one thing I wish he wouldn’t have asked, and I feel a little of my lightness dim, some of my buzzy happiness fade away as I think of Sir. Of the way he still makes me feel.

  “Actually, let me ask it another way,” Sebastian says, his gaze intent. “What makes it complicated? Is he married? Is it a long-distance thing?”

  I scrunch up my face and peer at him out of one squinted eye. “Promise you won’t laugh?”

  He nods.

  “I haven’t met him.”

  I hold my breath, waiting for the laugh, but true to his word, he doesn’t. He doesn’t even crack a smile.

  “How’d that come about?” His voice seems different. Cautious.

  Probably because he realizes he’s having dinner with a lunatic.

  “Oh, you know,” I say, waving my hand. “The usual way. I posted naked pictures of myself online then asked if any men wanted to chat.”

  He rewards me with a smile, some of his tension easing. “Damn. I’m visiting the wrong websites, apparently.”

  I smile back, because flirtatious Sebastian is extremely likable. No. All parts of Sebastian are likable.

  The server brings us dessert menus, and we both set the menus to the side and order coffee.

  “Through a dating app,” I say. “One where you get to know each other based on conversation, not appearances. The complicated bit is that I was on there for real—to meet someone. He was there quite by accident and wasn’t romantically available.”

  The server brings over two cups and fills them with coffee, then sets sugar and cream on the table. Sebastian pushes them both toward me as though knowing exactly how I like my coffee.

  “So what happened?” Sebastian asks.

  I shrug. “I don’t really know. He replied to my initial message, explaining his situation. I replied to that. He replied to that. Neither of us ever quit replying.”

  I’m braced to see amusement or judgment on his face, but instead he looks intent. “And you developed feelings for him.”

  I hesitate, then nod. “I know it sounds crazy. And wrong. He was with someone. But somehow, those messages started becoming the highlight of my day. And the way I felt when I saw his name… I never had those feelings in any previous relationships.”

  He gazes at me steadily. “You said was in a relationship. He’s not anymore?”

  I shake my head.

  “Then why not meet him?”

  “I tried,” I say, embarrassed that my voice comes out a little cracked. “He wasn’t interested. We’re still friends, we still talk, but in terms of it becoming more than that…” I shake my head. “It’s just as well. I think it’s probably time to let him go. Start dating for real.”

  Feeling vulnerable and wanting to hide, I pick up the dessert menu and feign fascination, though the words are a little blurry and even my highly trained sweet tooth can’t seem to focus or commit to anything.

  I risk a look at Sebastian, and he’s watching me, his knuckles drifting idly over the sharp line of his jaw as though he’s lost in thought.

  “What are you having?” I ask brightly. “Anything?”

  He looks at me a moment longer, then slowly reaches for his menu, perusing the options as he sips his coffee. Just a splash of cream, no sugar for him.

  “Want to split an ice-cream sundae?” he asks.

  Grateful for the offer of normalcy after my humiliating confession, I grin. “I normally have a firm policy against splitting desserts, but based on the fact that those potatoes were more butter than vegetable, I’ll make an exception.”

  The sundae is delicious. The conversation easy and free flowing.

  Sebastian insists on paying, furthering my confusion on what this is. Does he consider me a professional associate, based on our past business? A friend?

  A date?

  I’ve got a sip of coffee left and use it as an excuse to ask one more question as he reviews the bill.

  “Okay, I spilled my guts on my complicated romantic situation,” I say, smiling so he won’t know how much his answer matters. “What about you? How are things with Ms. Complicated? Still not the right time?”

  Sebastian continues to silently study the bill for so long that I assume he’s not going to answer. Finally, he scrawls his signature, closes the billfold, and looks up.

  Then he surprises me by answering my question after all. “I care about her. I care about her more than she knows. I’ve been afraid if I tell her that, I’ll lose her.”

  There’s a fierceness in his eyes when he talks about this woman, and I look away. Jealousy.

  Then I hear his words more clearly, and because strangely, I want to be his confidant the way he’s been mine… “Been afraid,” I repeat. “Past tense?”

  He taps his fingers on the billfold. “I’m also not entirely sure she knows what she wants. And I want to be the only thing she wants.”

  My stomach flips at the possessive note in his tone, and jealousy strikes again. I wait for more, but he doesn’t say anything.

  I sigh. “That’s all I’m going to get, huh? You’re going to play the man-of-few-words card on this?”

  “For now,” he says with a smile as he stands and pulls out my chair.

  The restaurant’s only a fifteen-minute walk from my apartment, but Sebastian refuses
to let me walk alone. And to my disappointment, he also doesn’t offer to walk me. Instead he hails a cab and opens the door for me. I thank him and start to climb in, when he touches my elbow.

  I freeze and look up, suddenly sandwiched between the frame of the taxi and Sebastian Andrews. Other than his fingers on my elbow he’s not touching me, but he’s close enough that I can feel his heat, smell his scent, see that those aqua eyes actually have a thin border of navy.

  His gaze drops to my mouth for a fraction of a second, and for a heart-stopping moment, I think he might kiss me. And I know—somehow, I know—that it would be the kiss to ruin all other kisses.

  “Your guy,” he says roughly. “Do you love him?”

  Considering I was just thinking about Sebastian’s lips on mine, it’s a jarring question.

  “Everyone thinks I’m crazy to love someone I haven’t met.”

  “That’s not what I asked.”

  I take a deep breath, wishing I could evade the question I’ve been too terrified to even ask myself. But I care about him and Sir too much not to answer honestly.

  “Yes,” I whisper. “But it doesn’t matter. It’s not mutual. He won’t even meet me.”

  Sebastian says nothing for several moments, then nods. “I think you should try again.”

  He pulls away and holds my gaze for a long moment before stepping back. Shaken, and confused, I climb into the cab. Sebastian waits until I pull my legs and the tail of my coat inside, then closes the door, all gentlemanly politeness.

  I lean back against the cushion, barely registering that the cab smells like garlic, or that traffic is surprisingly heavy for this late in the evening. I notice only that Sebastian Andrews doesn’t bother to glance at the cab as he walks away. That he’s just nudged me toward another man.

  And that had he asked me a second question: Is it possible to love two people…

  I think I’d have had no choice but to say yes.

  Twenty-Four

  “So, when you said you wanted to come see my progress on the renovation, what you really meant was you wanted to… mope and eat my cheese?” Lily asks, wrestling the cork out of a bottle of sauvignon blanc.

  “You always have the best cheese,” I say around a mouthful of baguette topped with something creamy, slightly pungent, and probably very expensive.

  “True, but that doesn’t explain the moping.”

  “Not moping,” I say, picking up my sister’s water glass and drinking a gulp to wash down the dairy. “Thinking.”

  “About?”

  “Boys,” I say with a sigh.

  “Talk,” she says, pouring me a very generous glass of wine and handing it over. “For someone who’s got a big gallery opening in a week, you’ve got puppy eyes.”

  “Well. I like two guys, and neither likes me back.”

  “Sebastian and the MysteryMate dude?” She picks up a piece of bread, carefully perusing her cheese options on the board.

  “Yup.”

  “Well, at that girls’ night, Keva and Robyn seemed pretty sure Sebastian was into you.”

  “Sometimes I’ve thought so too,” I say, swirling my wine. “But we had dinner the other night. It felt almost datelike. But then at the end, he told me I should pursue the other guy.”

  Lily winces.

  “Right?” I say glumly. “It was a pretty clear establishment of the friend zone.”

  “So are you going to pursue the other guy?”

  I continue to swirl the wine. “I’m scared.”

  “That he’s a serial killer?”

  I roll my eyes. “That he’ll say no again.”

  The second the words are out, I realize that’s not what I’m actually afraid of.

  “What if he’s not who I think he is?” I ask my sister. “What if we meet, and there’s zero chemistry, and we have nothing to talk about, and I’m back to being completely single, with no prospects.”

  What if I don’t feel with him what I did that day on the sidewalk with Sebastian?

  Lily squeezes my knee reassuringly. “Then we’ll put on some Frank, sing ‘That’s Life,’ and keep looking.”

  I smile. “I like that plan.”

  “Me too.” She pokes my knee. “I’ve missed this. I miss you. I’m glad we’re back.”

  “Same. Weird though, isn’t it? That shutting the doors to the store is what brought us all close again? You and I feel a little more us. And I’ve talked to Caleb more than I have in a year—did I tell you he’s coming to the gallery?

  “Oh God,” I mutter after another thought. “Is this one more thing I have to be grateful to Sebastian Andrews for? Giving me my family back?”

  She tilts her head. “You really like him, huh?”

  “I do,” I admit. “And maybe had things been different… but they’re not different, so maybe… maybe Sebastian Andrews and I were meant to be friends?”

  “Maybe,” she says with a shrug. “How’s that feel when you say it aloud?”

  Inadequate.

  I squeeze my eyes shut. “Is this my punishment for being so obsessed with Prince Charming for so long? When he finally comes along, I get two, and neither is interested?”

  “Well, you don’t know that your MysteryMate isn’t. And actually…” She taps my knee again. “I’ve just had a thought. Maybe you don’t have to give up the fairy tale, just modernize it.”

  I stuff the cheese wedge into my mouth. “Bigamy?”

  “Funny. But no. Have you seen the new fairy tales coming out? There are still princesses and princes, but the princess isn’t sitting around waiting for a dude to shove her foot into a glass slipper. The new princesses are badass. They go after what they want—”

  Lily’s impressive tirade is cut off by the sound of the front door opening. “Hey, Alec,” I call.

  “Hey, Gracie,” he says, coming into the kitchen and dropping his briefcase onto the counter.

  He goes immediately to Lily, setting his hands on her waist, and she grins up at him. I pause in the process of sipping my wine as I realize the tension between them over the past few months is nowhere to be seen. Instead, they look newly in love, like they can’t take their eyes off each other.

  “How are we?” Alec asks her softly, brushing a kiss over her lips.

  “Excellent, now that you’re home,” she says, kissing him back. And not just a peck either.

  “Aaaaand, that’s my cue,” I say, hopping down and taking one last sip of sauvignon blanc before setting it aside. “But for what it’s worth, I’m really glad you guys are back.”

  “Me too,” Lily says with a smile.

  “Just curious, is there, like, a magic potion I can take to get me some of whatever fixed you two?”

  “Just a good old-fashioned talk,” Alec tells me, framing Lily’s face with his hands. “We decided that families come in all shapes and sizes, and if ours stayed a family of two until the end, we’d count ourselves blessed to have each other.”

  My eyes water. I want that.

  “Of course,” Lily says playfully, “we didn’t mind learning the day after that talk that we’re going to be a family of three.”

  Her words don’t register at first. And then all of a sudden they do, along with the previously missed detail that Lily poured me a glass of wine, but not one for herself.

  “Wait. Oh my God. Are you pregnant?”

  The twin grins on their faces answer the question, and with a happy squeal, I wrap my arms around both of them. “I’m so happy for you. Oh my God, you’re going to be parents! I’m going to be an aunt! I have to learn to sew. And of course plan a Disney movie regimen. And—”

  “Gracie?” Alec says, a little distracted, since he’s busy kissing his wife.

  “Yeah?”

  “We love you. Get out,” Lily answers for him.

  “Okay, okay.” But I sneak in one last hug before grabbing my purse and giving them their privacy.

  Out on the sidewalk, I can’t stop smiling as I hum “I’ve Got the World
on a String.”

  Nor can I stop thinking about what Lily said about updating my fairy tale. No more waiting for Prince Charming.

  No more waiting, period.

  If I want happily-ever-after, I’ve got to go get it.

  I pull out my phone and send a message.

  To Sir, with a hope and a prayer,

  I know we don’t know what this is. I know we’ve been careful not to label it. Screw that. Let’s find out what to label it. Let’s meet. Let’s give this thing a chance.

  I have an art gallery opening next Saturday. I’m an artist. Have I ever told you that? There’s so much I want to tell you. So much I want to know about you.

  Please come.

  Lady

  * * *

  My dear Lady,

  I’ll be there.

  Yours,

  Sir

  Text Message from Gracie to Sebastian

  Well. I did it. I asked him to meet, and he said yes. If he turns out to be a weirdo who starts out the conversation asking me what sort of saws cut through bone, this is on your head. :-)

  Sebastian to Gracie

  Don’t overthink it. I’m sure he’s something perfectly respectable. Like an aspiring magician or a mermaid aficionado.

  Gracie to Sebastian

  Is mermaid aficionado a real thing? Forget painting! I’m on the wrong career path…

  Sebastian to Gracie

  Not that I’m not enjoying this stint as Gracie Cooper’s career coach, but how did you get my number?

  Gracie to Sebastian

  Myron. Told him we’re friends but that I’d accidentally deleted your number from my phone.

  Sebastian to Gracie

  Are we? Friends?

  Gracie to Sebastian

  Depends. Will you come to my art opening?

  Sebastian to Gracie

  I want nothing more, but I have something going on that night.

  Gracie to Sebastian

  Ah. Finally decide to make it the Right Moment with Ms. Complicated?