“You’ll never guess what happened!” I exclaimed.
“What?”
“The Bodega. They just told me I got the show back.”
“Really?” he gasped, smiling wide.
“Yes! Apparently someone outbid the person who outbid me in the first place. I’m going to get a show, Edgar. Isn’t this wonderful?”
“It sure is,” he laughed. “I was going to get changed and pop over to your place. What do you say we have a couple of drinks to celebrate?”
I beamed. “I like how you think.”
Returning to my apartment, I immediately made for the liquor cabinet. There wasn’t very much to work with, just a small bottle of rum and a bottle of red wine that my mother gifted me when I graduated and never opened. There was also a bottle of margarita mix shoved to the very back of the cabinet, but I knew for a fact that I didn’t have any of the other necessary ingredients. I hoped Edgar wouldn’t mind the lack of selection. I poured two small glasses with rum just as Edgar knocked on the door.
“Come on in,” I shouted.
He entered, now dressed casually in a pair of dark jeans and a black V-neck shirt that hugged him in all the right places. The fabric clung to his form, complimenting his broad shoulders and slim waist. He had a large brown paper bag at his side.
“What’s that?” I questioned.
Edgar smiled, a twinkle in his eye as he raised his eyebrows at the drinks in my hand. I walked over and gave him one of the glasses, trading it for the bag.
“It’s a gift,” he explained.
“What is it?”
“You’ll have to open it and find out.”
Curiosity guided my hands forward. I reached into the paper bag to pull out something thing and rectangular, which had been wrapped up in day-old newspaper. I pealed the paper way to expose the canvas beneath, along with the beautiful painted landscape I had my eyes on earlier at the farmer’s market. My mouth dropped open in surprise.
“How did–” I stammered. “How did you know?”
“I saw you checking it out the other day.”
“Edgar, this is really sweet. You shouldn’t have.”
“Do you like it?”
I clutched the painting to my chest and nodded, unable to fight the smile the stretched its way across my face. “I really do.”
“I’m glad,” he chuckled sweetly. He immediately held up his glass to make a toast. “To your art show,” he said.
“And to the saint who paid for it for me,” I added.
The rims of our glasses clinked together before we each took a sip. The bitter liquid coated my tongue, stinging a bit on its way down my throat. I wasn’t focused on the taste, however, too enraptured in Edgar’s dark, deep eyes. I gestured toward the couch with a wave of the hand, silently suggesting that we should take a seat. We got comfortable, sinking down into the comfortable cushions with mere inches of space separating us. I placed the painting down on the coffee table and looked about the space.
“Where do you think I should hang it?”
Edgar shrugged. “I’m not sure.”
“I’m sure I’ll find a place for it eventually.”
“I get the sense you have an eye for that kind of thing.”
“I do. I’ve actually been planning the exhibit layout all day.”
“Oh, yeah?”
“To be honest, I still can’t believe it,” I sighed. “I can’t believe it’s actually happening. For real, this time.”
“Do you think I’ll be able to see you leading up to the show? I’d imagine you’re about to be very busy with preparations.”
I placed a hand on his lap and giggled. “I probably will be, but I’d make the time.”
“Really?”
“Of course,” I cheered. I took another sip of the rum. The taste was starting to grow on me. “How was work?” I asked. “What does Dr. Edgar the Third get up to all day?”
“I had three scheduled surgeries and found myself assisting in the ER for the rest of the day,” he explained. “Lots of paperwork, though.”
I grimaced. “That doesn’t sound very fun.”
“It isn’t,” he confirmed. “And it definitely didn’t help that I was so distracted.”
A grin stretched across my lips. “Distracted? By what?”
Edgar smirked, winking at me playfully. “I think you know.”
I leaned forward, eyeing his mouth. “Maybe after dinner I can distract you further.”
“You’re going to have a negative affect on my work ethic,” he groaned, but there wasn’t any heat behind his words.
“I’ll do my very best.”
Without another word, Edgar closed the remaining distance between us and kissed me. He carded his fingers through my hair and held me close. My tongue explored the inside of his mouth, now fully intrigued by the taste of spiced rum. I breathed in through my nose and hummed, my hands pressed to his hard chest. I was by no means drunk. I didn’t even feel the tiniest bit tipsy. But kissing Edgar like this, unhurried and heated, was enough to leave the tips of my fingers tingling and my head dizzy.