19. Butterfly

Iknew that if I asked if he wanted me to give him privacy, Brand would tell me to stay. Instead, I got out of bed, walked into the bathroom, and turned the water on in the tub. After Brand, it was the thing I’d missed most while I was in Virginia.

It took a while to fill, so I sat on the edge and thought about telling Brand I loved him. It was tantamount to jumping from a cliff and not knowing where or when I’d land, and yet, I felt completely safe. That’s what he did for me, among many other things.

There was no point in lying about it; I loved sex, and with Brand, it was fabulous. But it was more than that. The connection we shared made it different. So much better.

I was sure I’d rolled my eyes and stopped myself from gagging whenever one of my tribe said the same thing about being with the men they loved. The notion had seemed ridiculous to me. Now, though, I believed them because, for the first time in my life, I’d experienced it.

I raised my head and looked over my shoulder to see if the tub was full when I heard Brand’s voice from the other room. With the water running, I couldn’t make out what he was saying, but I didn’t need to know. That was the reason I’d excused myself. Brand worked for Doc. They’d need to have conversations I wasn’t privy to.

“This is where you disappeared to,” he said, opening and walking through the door.

I reached over and shut off the water. “Care to join me?” I asked, sticking my fingers in to check the temperature.

“I thought you’d never ask.”

The tub was ginormous. Big enough to hold four people at least, not that I’d ever try to accommodate more than the two of us. This was my sanctuary. After my grandmother passed away, the bath was the one thing I upgraded, and it was worth every ridiculously expensive penny I’d spent on it.

“This is brilliant,” said Brand, swirling the water with his hand when I rested against him, my back to his front. “I have news.”

I looked over my shoulder at him.

“I’ve been asked to travel to London.”

“For?” I asked.

“A meeting with Margeaux Jordan, the commander of the United Nations Coalition Against Human Trafficking, as well as the head of its UK task force, Winston Trace.”

“When?”

“Doc said to let him know when I thought we could make it.”

“Wait. We? How long are you going to be there?”

“A few days at most. I thought we could make a vacation out of it.”

“It sounds lovely, but I agreed to work at the gallery after I returned from Virginia, which means in a couple of days.”

Brand cupped both my breasts. “I won’t leave until you return to work, then.”

“If Doc has asked you to go to England, you shouldn’t stay here for me.”

He leaned down and kissed the side of my neck. “Everything I do is for you, Butterfly.”

“You have a life too. You need to live it.”

“Without you, it doesn’t amount to much.” He reached between my legs with one hand, and I shifted so he had better access. “God, I love you,” he whispered as he played with my pussy. “Everything about you…”

“I feel the same.” The last word came out as more of a groan when he eased two fingers inside me.

“I don’t want this to ever end.”

Neither did I. In fact, if it did, I’d be devastated. I wouldn’t say that now. It wasn’t fair. My trust issues were just that—mine.

“So, um, why do the people in London want to meet with you?” My voice stuttered when he touched my clit with his thumb.

“No more talk for now, Butterfly.”

I murmured my agreement, and after he brought me to another orgasm, I did the same for him.

“Shall we go out tonight?”he asked later when we were on the second floor, snuggled on the oversized sofa, both of us reading.

“We could…”

He smiled and nuzzled my neck. “Or we could stay in and order takeaway.”

“We could cook.”

“You do have a fabulous kitchen.”

I shifted so I could see his face. “Are you antsy? Is that why you suggested we go out?”

Brand shook his head. “I thought you might be. I’m perfectly content.”

“I don’t spend very much time here. Mostly, when I’m not here, it’s because I’m at the gallery. When we’re closed and I’m here alone more than a couple of days, I get…”

“Lonely?” he asked.

“I wouldn’t call it that. It was more that I knew there was a hole in my life I had no idea how to fill. A big empty hole.”

“And now?” There was a glimmer of mischief in his eyes.

“Yes, Brand, you have filled my hole. More than one, in fact.”

He chuckled and tightened his arm around me. “As pathetic as it sounds, there’s never been a time in my life when I felt happy.”

“I get it, and it’s not pathetic at all. I’ve had fun, experiences I enjoyed, especially time spent with the tribe. But happy? I’m not sure I believed in it.”

“But now, you do?”

I shifted to kiss his cheek. “I don’t just believe; I actually know how it feels.”

The day Brandleft for the UK and I returned to the gallery, I was unsettled. More, it was a feeling of dread.

“Are you okay?” Tara asked when she came downstairs from her studio. “You’re moping.”

“Brand left today.”

She sat in the chair in front of my desk. “You don’t say. At least not twenty or thirty times.”

“I haven’t been that bad, have I?”

“Not at all. It’s nice to see you like this.”

“Moping?”

“Missing someone.”

“I don’t like it. My emotional stability should not be tied to another person.”

“I feel as though there’s this much”—she spread her arms as wide as she could—“between missing someone and emotional stability dependency, Pen. Maybe shoot for something in the middle? Better yet, just stick with the missing-him part.”

“I’m not that person, Tara.”

“I agree you haven’t been in the past. I’ve also never seen you in love before.”

“I need to take a walk. Would you mind holding down the fort for a little while?”

“Not at all. The gallery does have my fake name on the front door.”

I rolled my eyes, but inside, every time I thought back to the weeks and months when none of us knew where Tara was, my heart hurt. We’d eventually learned she was living in Italy under the alias Catarina Benedetto. That was right before Brand went to prison and the two, along with their father, were almost killed.

Those were really dark days, and that I felt the same sense that something terrible was about to happen reminded me of that period of time.

I thought about walking home and sitting in the garden, but that would only make me miss Brand more. Instead, I went in the opposite direction, toward my favorite park.

I sat on a bench and noticed a woman on the one next to mine. She intrigued me. It was almost as if a voice inside me was saying I should speak to her. Odd, since it wasn’t something I ever did. I glanced over when I noticed her pull out a small sketchbook.

The way her pencil flew across the page, I knew she was an artist. A few minutes later, she closed the book and tucked it under her arm.

When a man pushing a stroller carrying a baby walked by, the woman pulled the book out again and sketched, this time longer.

I stood and approached her. “Are you an artist?” I asked.

“Just as a hobby,” she responded.

“May I see one?”

The woman laughed. “Really, I just do it for fun.”

“Come on.” I sat next to her. “Just one.”

She laughed again. “Why?”

Everything I’d learned about stranger danger when I was a kid made me realize that, right now, I was the stranger. “I’m not sure, to be honest. I just have this feeling I was supposed to meet you. And since I’m a partner in an art gallery, I’m thinking I’m supposed to discover you.” It was the most forthright answer I could give her.

She handed the book over, and I flipped through the pages.

“You’re really good. I’d love to see some of your bigger works.”

“That’s it,” she said, motioning to the sketch pad. “I mean, I’ve got dozens like that I’ve filled, but I’ve not gone beyond sketches.”

With talent like hers? It was tragic. “You have to. I’m serious. You cannot let an ability like yours go to waste. Meet me later?” I asked, looking at my watch and realizing I’d been gone longer than I intended to be.

“I cannot. I’ve, um, something I need to do.”

“How about tomorrow? Same time? Here, in the park?”

Her eyes scrunched. “Um, sure.”

I almost told her not to worry, that I wasn’t a crazy person, but isn’t that what a real crazy person would say?

Tara was talking with a client when I returned, so I sat at my desk and started a list.

“What are you doing?” she asked after the man left.

“I know this sounds bizarre, but I met a woman in the park. She’s a budding artist. Anyway, I got the impression she can’t afford materials, so I’m going to meet her tomorrow and bring her some.”

My friend looked at me like I’d grown an extra head.

“I know. I can’t explain it. It’s kismet or something.” I realized the feeling that had been plaguing me was gone. “Is it really so awful to do something nice for another person?”

Tara’s eyes opened wide. “Of course it isn’t. It’s just…”

“What? Say it.”

“It isn’t like you. I’m not saying you aren’t generous or charitable.”

“But?”

“I’ve never seen you speak to a stranger. I mean, guys at bars don’t count. Neither do gallery clients. You’re just not that outgoing.”

I thought about arguing with her, but she wasn’t wrong. “I feel like I’m supposed to be friends with this woman.”

“What’s her name?” she asked.

“You know? She didn’t say, and I didn’t think to give her one of my cards. I’ll find out when I see her tomorrow. I’m hoping we have most of this stuff here at the gallery.”

Tara took the list and studied it. “We’ll have to get some of it from the art supply store.”

I checked the time. “When do they close?”

“Late. Most artists don’t keep regular hours. And before you chastise me for making an unfair generalization, I am one, so I’m allowed to say it.”

Chastiseher? “Do I really do that?” I asked.

Tara’s expression darkened. “All the time, Pen.”

Now, I felt like absolute shit when, a minute ago, I was great, lighthearted, and excited to see my new friend tomorrow. “God, Tara, I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. We all do it. I mean, I just did it to you.” She smiled and rolled her eyes. “I chastised you for chastising me.”

At least once every day, I was thankful for my four best friends. They got me, and I got them. Could I be a bitch? Yes, I could. So could each one of them, but we’d known each other long enough that we accepted each other as we were.

Brand was like that with me too. He got me in ways that stunned me.

“I love you, Tar.”

“Ditto. So, do you want help with all this?”

“I can handle it.”

“You didn’t even get the list right.”

Since the art supply store was open late, Tara called her husband to say she and I were having dinner and explain what we were doing afterwards.

“Knox said to text him when we’re done at the store, and he’ll help us bring everything back to the gallery.”

“Does he want to join us for dinner?”

Tara shook her head. “Girls’ night.”

We’d laughedand talked so much that we arrived at the store fifteen minutes before they closed, but we were still able to get everything Tara thought my new and unnamed friend would need.

The next day, I checked the clock at least every fifteen minutes to make sure I wasn’t late.

When it came time to leave, Tara came down from her studio. “Pen, don’t chastise me for asking this…”

I smirked. “Go ahead.”

“This woman, do you think she’s homeless?”

“I didn’t get that impression at all. There’s something about her, though. I can’t explain it, but she seems, um, tragic.”

“Interesting word choice. How sad.”

I nodded. “I know. It isn’t as though she said anything. It was just a feeling I got.”

“I’m proud of you for doing this.”

I had to admit, I was proud of myself too.

Knox had packedeverything in a large portfolio case and a small box with a handle so it was easy for me to manage on my own.

When I saw her seated in the same spot as the day before, I was relieved she’d showed up.

“Good morning,” I said, setting down the case and box. “These are canvases and paints. My gift to your talent.”

“What? Wow. You shouldn’t have. Please, you must allow me to repay you.”

I shook my head. “Just promise me that, when you’re ready, you’ll show your work here. I forgot to give you a card yesterday.” I pointed to the gallery’s name. “She’s our resident artist. By the way, I’m Penelope Ramsey, as the card says.”

“Julie Smith.”

“The gallery isn’t far from here. Feel free to stop in any time.”

She thanked me, but something told me she wouldn’t take me up on the offer.

“So anyway, I hope to bump into you here again.”

“I’d like that too. I don’t know many people in the city. No one, really.”

I held out my hand, and she shook it. “Consider me your first friend in the Big Apple.”

“I truly don’t know how to thank you.”

“Don’t worry about it. When you’re ready, we’ll put a show together for you.”

Her cheeks flushed.

“You’re that good, Julie. I’m not just saying it.”

“How was your day, Butterfly?”Brand said when he called right after I walked into the town house.

“Good. I made a new friend.”

“Yeah? Tell me about her.”

I almost laughed that he’d assumed my friend was a woman, or maybe that was his way of making sure.

After explaining I’d noticed her sketching, I told him about having dinner with Tara and taking Julie the supplies she’d helped me purchase.

“You sound happy.”

“I am, but I miss you. How goes it in London?”

He sighed. “It seems preliminary at best.”

“What do you mean?”

“I think they’re feeling me out to see if I’d be willing to relocate to London, or rather Shere, where they’re headquartered.”

I hadn’t thought about him relocating permanently. “I, um, don’t know what to say. You need to?—”

“Do whatever it takes to make a life with you, Pen. Me living an ocean away won’t cut it.”

“We could take turns visiting one another.” I didn’t know why I was trying to talk him into taking a job that would keep us apart. I hated the idea of a long-distance relationship.

“As I said, my meeting today was preliminary. Tomorrow, I’ll meet with Nemesis.”

“The name sounds ominous.”

“I think you’d like her. In fact, she reminds me of you.”

I laughed. “I’m not sure whether I should take that as a compliment.”

“As someone here mentioned when I voiced the same trepidation, the definition of the word is, ‘a formidable and usually victorious opponent.’ In other words, she gets the job done and doesn’t let anyone stand in her way.”

“Is that really how you see me?” I asked.

“Always.”

“The forgers beat me.”

“Temporarily. I’m still convinced we’ll emerge victorious.”

“I hope you’re right. So you said you met with the UK task force commander. How did that go?”

“Fine, I suppose. Although I’m not completely clear on why I’m here. I don’t exactly fit in. The entire coalition seems to be made up of SIS and CIA agents. Some current, some former.”

“SIS?”

“His Majesty’s Secret Service, aka MI5 and MI6. Although there are other units. I feel quite out of my league.”

“Perhaps Nemesis will enlighten you when you meet.”

“Maybe. I don’t see how relocating to London can work, however.”

I didn’t know what to say. I’d never been in a relationship like this. It had never made a difference to me whether whoever I was seeing was moving. It rarely got far enough along that it would matter.

“Pen?”

“I’m here.”

“Tell me what you’re thinking.”

“I can’t.”

He chuckled. “You can. Come on, ’fess up.”

“I’d miss you. I mean, I miss you already, and you’ve only been gone a couple of days. I’m really not good at this.”

“This?” he prompted.

“I know it sounds ridiculous, but you’re my first real relationship.”

“Not ridiculous. Reassuring.”

I hated how needy I sounded. “I don’t want to be the reason you don’t accept a job offer. If that’s what this is.”

“But you’d rather I didn’t.”

“I’m sorry,” I admitted.

“Don’t be. I’m relieved to hear you say it.”

“What will you do? You still have the meeting tomorrow.”

“At its conclusion, I’ll discuss the outcome with Doc. He’s my employer.”

“How long will you need to stay in the UK?” I asked.

“I’ll book a flight out tomorrow afternoon.”

We talked for several more minutes about nothing in particular. For me, just hearing his voice was enough.

When it was time for our call to end, I told him I’d be counting the minutes until he was back.

“I love you, Butterfly.”

“I love you, Michelangelo.”

Shortly after we hung up, I crawled into bed and pulled out the book I’d been reading before he left. Rather than stay on my side of the bed, I rolled to where he’d slept, hugged the pillow, and breathed in his lingering scent.