“It’s gorgeous,” I say. “I wonder if it would grow well on the museum property.”
Sophie shakes her head. “No, this one seems to need the microclimate up here on the roof to thrive.Floris amorisis selective.”
Jay gives her a sharp look, and she smiles. It has almost a knowing quality to it, but before I can decide for sure, she gives us a friendly nod and continues into the garden, and Jay guides us out.
When we reach the third floor, instead of turning toward my apartment, he stops at the landing. “This is where I leave you,” he says. “Turns out I need to pack for a trip.”
“Right.” I’m at a loss for what to do next. Hug him? Wave? Jay settles it by leaning down to press a kiss on my forehead before he continues down the stairs without a word.
As I watch him disappear, I feel more at a loss than ever.
Chapter Thirty-Five
Jay
I turninto the driveway of the big house and pull around to park at the cottage.
Time has been weirdly elastic since I left Phoebe on the landing Saturday. It was only three nights ago, but some part of my brain never left that kiss, replaying it on a loop so I can rediscover her sound, scent, and taste multiple times a day. Okay, multiple times an hour. I’m still there, and yet it feels like forever ago.
I’ve had a lot of first kisses, many good, some great. That kiss between Phoebe and me was next level. I’ve never experienced anything like it before, an electric newness combined with a sense of recognition, of the realization thatthisis how it’s meant to be and everything else was a warmup. I don’t know if a person gets more than one kiss like that in a lifetime. That can’t just be me, can it? It’s like even the landscaper knew because she called the flower Phoebe asked aboutFloris amoris—the flower of love, but I swear she was making it up on the spot.
Time isn’t cooperating any better today. The drive back was almost five hours, and I can’t decide if it felt longer orshorter. Part of me can’t wait to see Phoebe, to see if she’s reached the same conclusion I have about us. Part of me has dreaded it. Wouldn’t she have broken the silence if it was news I wanted to hear?
Her car is in its usual spot when I pass it, and the buzz I feel every time I know I’m going to see her intensifies. I’ve made it back with almost an hour to spare before the board meeting, but I don’t want to wait that long to see her. I want to shower off the stale road trip feeling and go wish her luck before everyone else starts arriving.
Is it an excuse to get a read on her, to see if she’s decided about us? Yes. But I’m a man in?—
Well. I’m a man in a hurry to see the woman he’s really into.
I let myself into the cottage and go straight to Samuel’s portrait, which I’ve left in time-out since I showed it to Phoebe.
“Sam, my man,” I say, sweeping it up to meet his eyes, “you’re still a rogue, but I get it now. No more smirking. I know your secrets.” I settle the portrait over the mantle and step back to study him. He definitely looks less self-satisfied.
Twenty minutes later, I’m showered and dressed for the board meeting. I’ve taken some extra care to make sure I look like someone Professor Martinez would want to recommend to his former colleagues at Amherst, because I’ve decided Phoebe is right: it’s time for me to get serious about getting hired, and that means expecting people to take me seriously. I’ve picked a striped Oxford and an appropriately sober tie befitting a college professor.
I hurry across the property to the big house and through the back door, popping my head into the butler’s pantry to check for new tea sets. I don’t see any, but I do see a clear bin of … what are those? I crouch for a closer look, but I’m no less confused. It’s a bunch of old-fashioned egg beaters, the kind with a manual crank on the side that would make the two whisks spin—at least forty of them.
I grin as I imagine Phoebe trying to figure out what to make of them and hop up to go ask her myself. As I near the library, I hear voices, and my guess is Catherine Crawford came early again. I pause to make sure I’m not interrupting anything sensitive before I barge in.
“—for your feedback after the last meeting,” Phoebe is saying. “It led to some valuable insights. I think you’ll be pleased.”
“I suppose we’ll find out shortly,” Catherine says, her tone as cool as the words. “Did you takeallmy concerns under advisement?”
I catch Catherine’s emphasis on the wordall, and Phoebe’s pause tells me she did too. Since I’m pretty sure this is about me, it feels like the absolute wrong time to announce myself.
“You mean Jay,” Phoebe says, her voice as cool as Catherine’s now.
“Unless you’re dating yet another person I should be aware of?” Catherine asks.
My hands curl at the sardonic note in her voice.
“No,” Phoebe says. “I’m not dating anyone you need to be aware of. Jay is a nice guy, and it’s helpful that he knows so much about the estate, but he’s …”
My fists tighten because I’m going to hate whatever follows that “but.” I can tell.
“He’s unserious,” Phoebe says. “My entire focus is the museum, and if I were going to make time to date, it wouldn’t be for a lightweight.”
“Hmm,” Catherine says, and it sounds considering, not skeptical.
