“Rachel—” he started, but stopped when she averted her eyes. He leaned back and pulled his hands down to rest against his thighs. “I’m sorry. You’re right. I know you’re dealing with a lot right now. It was wrong of me to throw it in your face like that.”
He could see her winding up, like she wasn’t ready to let go of the fight yet. But then her shoulders caved. “I didn’t come here to argue. I’m sorry. It was unprofessional and won’t happen again.”
A server approached and put a drink down in front of Nathan. Once they ordered food, Rachel laced her fingers on the table, with a straight spine. All-business. “Are you nervous about the gala?”
“Aren’t you? This is a big deal for you. It’s okay if you’d rather work with someone else.”
Her neck snapped back. “Why would I do that?”
“Come on.” Nathan touched his chest. “Me? Featured artist at some thirty-thousand-dollar-a-table dinner? It’s a punch line to a shitty joke.” He’d made the mistake of looking up the gala last night. He’d always thought of it as another one of his mother’s numerous parties. But it was held in a large courtyard at the National Portrait Gallery and typically attracted over eight hundred people. Last year, the featured artist had sold a single painting for six figures. And here he was with his blurry non-dragons.
“What if no one shows up?”
She smiled and said, “They’ll show,” with conviction that threatened to melt away his anxiety.
“What if no one bids?” he asked quickly, clinging to the cold comfort of his doubt. Borrowing her confidence seemed hazardous. Like the path to leaked-sex-tape-level disaster.
“I know this is a lot,” she said. “But I was serious about helping you. Everyone gets stage fright their first time out. It’s normal.” She leaned closer. “We are partners. You’re the talent and I’m like…” She paused, searching for words. “I’m like the director, guiding you through a performance.”
“So I run everything past you?”
“Yes. But not for approval, just for a fresh perspective. Like an editor for a novel.”
“I think I get it. You’ll pull me back if I go down some weird rabbit hole—like Catholic saints as Marvel characters. Or naked popes.”
She pressed her lips together, but he could see the hint of a smile, which was a relief. Working together would be hell if she was too mad to laugh at him. “Are these your actual ideas?”
He shrugged. “There might be a few sketches in my drawer.”
“Let’s keep them there.”
As the afternoon passed, they both seemed to settle in. She was all about the work, and he was all about convincing her not to glare daggers at his face. When the food came, he made sure she had plenty of napkins and offered to wave down the server when he forgot her hot sauce. He also finally made her laugh again with an embarrassing story about his brief detour into community theater. “In my defense, I was really bored,” he said. “I’d been living alone for a year, and it felt like adulthood was just constantly running the dishwasher. But then I realized it was filing taxes too, and that seemed like a lot, so I quit the play.”
She ducked her head and gave in to that wind chime giggle he loved. It fed a hunger that had been gnawing at him since she snuck out of his apartment that night. If he couldn’t have her, maybe he could still have this.
Rachel steered the conversation back to art. She explained she was going to work with him the way she used to work with high school students during undergrad, mentoring them through a development period that ended with an artist showcase. “I remember all of their names,” she said, her voice filled with pride when she listed how many of them had gone on to successful careers. He imagined it had to hurt, watching kids she mentored do what she couldn’t, live out the dreams she’d abandoned for something that was slowly eating her alive.
The difference between her now, radiant while she discussed the work she loved, and the aloof woman at the luncheon was stark. This was who she was. If the work they did together was the huge hit that everyone kept predicting, maybe she wouldn’t have to hide that anymore.
They ate in silence for a while before she looked at him with expectant eyes. “Did you bring your portfolio?”
Nathan shifted in his chair. “I don’t have one. Just the stuff online.”
“Well, let’s look at that and brainstorm.”