Thought I Knew You (22 page)

Drew was relaxing on the couch, flipping through a magazine. He whistled when he saw me. “Claire, you have seriously changed your style!” He motioned for me to turn around. “I hardly recognize you. It’s like you’re one of my friends or something!”

I swatted at him, then dug through my purse for a mint. When I looked up, I met his gaze, his eyes reflecting desire and regret at once. For a moment, I wished I hadn’t come.

He recovered so quickly, I wondered if I actually saw anything at all. “Come on. Let’s go. I can’t wait to show you off. I’m pretty sure all my friends think I’ve made you up.” He put his arm around my shoulder, hugging me to him. We paused in the doorway, and he moved a piece of hair away from my face. I inhaled sharply, waiting. “I hope you like the photographs, Claire. I’m sorry if I offended you with the topic. But the truth is, somehow, I couldn’t stop myself.”

His gaze was so intense, I only half-listened. Things had shifted with me. Drew was no longer my closest friend when I was in need. Somehow, he had become an amazing, beautiful man. The longing was astounding. I’ve been denied by him so frequently in my life, I couldn’t bring myself to initiate even a kiss. My insides twisted at the thought.

I stepped back and glanced at the wall across the room. “Listen, don’t worry about it. It’s fine.” I smiled up at him with false bravado and kissed his cheek. “I can’t wait to see them.”

Then, I walked through the door and into the hall, deliberately breaking the spell. He followed, locking the door behind him. When he faced me again, we were back to Drew and Claire, the way things used to be, which was still sort of in-between.

The gallery looked like a regular brownstone, except the entire first floor had been converted to a one-room art showcase. As Drew had predicted, about twenty people were milling around, and when we walked in the door, Drew was greeted by a round of applause. He repeated his dramatic bow, then ran his hand through his hair, scratching at his neck nervously.

He grasped my hand. “Everyone, this is Claire Barnes. If you know me well enough, you’ve heard a lot about her. Be nice to her.” He lowered his voice to a stage whisper. “She’s from the
suburbs.”

Titters of laughter followed his comment.
Nice. Thanks, Drew.
I was handed a bowl-like glass of merlot. Drew’s friends seemed accommodating and kind, not what I’d expected from city artists. I had prepared myself for condescension, even scorn.

One of the most beautiful women I’d ever seen sidled up to Drew and kissed his cheek. She was tall, practically six feet, with olive skin and a dark tangle of formed curls highlighted red and blond. Chic beyond belief. Model thin, with the elegance to match, she gave me an inclusive, radiant smile. “Darling, you should hear what people said before you got here. I’ve heard people say ‘buyers’ already.” Her voice was silky with an unidentifiable accent.

He raised his eyebrows at her and turned to me. “Claire, meet Olivia.”

My heart sank. Her? She was
the
Olivia? I expected blond. I expected giggly and girlish, with unrealistic breast implants. I did not expect the most fantastic woman I’d ever laid eyes on. My leggings and sweater felt as sophisticated as Leah’s footie pajamas.

“Claire, so nice to meet you. You can’t imagine how much I’ve heard about you. It’s like I know you already.” She leaned in and, instead of shaking my hand, hugged me, enveloping me in Chanel No. 5.
Of course, what else? Was I even wearing perfume?

All I could smell was the light baby fragrance of my hair. I’d run out of shampoo that morning and had to use Leah’s.
Real sexy, Claire.
She linked her arm through mine and dragged me away from Drew. I looked back at him, and he shrugged as if to say,
I don’t know. Have fun!

“Have you seen his photos yet?” Olivia asked.

I shook my head. I had yet to speak. I
couldn’t
speak.

“He’s so worried about you. He thinks you’re going to hate him when you do.” She stopped and turned to me. “There are six photos behind you, arranged in a collection. I’ll leave you to look at them and come back to get you.” She disappeared into the small crowd.
This woman is very, very good,
I thought.

I turned and gazed at the display. My first impression:
These are beautiful.
Every picture captured complete vulnerability. Every photo portrayed the man’s complete love and adoration for the woman beside him. The emotion was open and apparent in every shot. Some shots were in profile, while others were full facial, or wide-angle close-ups. The women were in various positions and with a variety of responses. One was on her blackberry, ignoring her lunch date. One was returning the passionate expression. One photo seemed to be of a kiss a fraction of a second before it happened—eyes closed, lips parted. The photos were completely raw and human. And yes, they did appear to be affairs. In one picture, the woman was furtively looking over her shoulder. The expressions so sensual, I found it hard to believe the couples were married.
Married couples don’t look at each other like that. Do they?

“What do you think?” Drew asked from behind me. “I’ve been watching you, but you haven’t moved for five minutes. I couldn’t wait any longer.” I turned, and he looked nervous.

“Oh, Drew, they’re breathtaking. They’re amazing! I can’t believe you took these.”

“You’re not mad?”

“No, not at all. This has nothing to do with me. These are beautiful. They’re almost hard to look at because they’re so… graphic. Not sexually, but raw human emotion boiled down to a single moment in time. And you captured that. These people were going about their day, meeting their spouses for lunch, and you snapped the shutter at the right moment to capture a whole life’s emotion in one shot. It’s crazy.” I shook my head. “I’m explaining this terribly.”

“No, you’re saying it wonderfully. Thank you.” He hugged me.

I rested my cheek on his chest, relaxing into the embrace, our bodies connecting down to our toes. His breathing quickened ever so slightly, but enough for me to detect it. For a split second, he pulled me closer, and I concentrated on the cadence of his heart. I imagined it speeding up, or maybe it wasn’t my imagination. Matching my breathing to his, I watched his neck as he swallowed.
What if I kissed it? Right here?

We broke apart, and he held my gaze for a second longer before we were interrupted by someone asking a question about the pictures. Drew’s eyes found mine, saying… what?
I’m sorry?

He introduced me to the person, then they made small talk. I looked around the room and spotted Olivia. She moved effortlessly from group to group, each clique opening to let her in immediately. She circulated and laughed, her hand on an arm, even a cheek
—Who does that?
—flirting with men and women alike, bestowing her light on everyone equally. She reminded me of Sarah, but even Sarah didn’t shine that brilliantly.

She caught me looking, came over, and squeezed my hand. “What did you think?”

I realized that her eyes were different colors. The right one was a deep blue, almost purple, exotic in its own right, while the left one was green. The effect was mesmerizing.

“The pictures? They’re amazing. Of course I’m not mad! I don’t know why he would think I would be.”

“That’s what I told him. He is such a wonderful photographer.” She gazed fondly across the room and gave Drew a little wave.

He waved back, his expression unreadable. For lack of things to do, I downed my merlot.

The rest of the evening passed quickly. I drank about three more large glasses of wine. Olivia doted on me like a mother hen.
Do you have enough to drink? Have you tried the appetizers? The canapés are amazing.
After the last of the gallery patrons had left, all that remained were Drew, Olivia, me, and the owners, John and James, waiting to lock up for the night.

“Drinks?” Olivia suggested.

Drew looked to me for an answer. It was almost midnight. I really just wanted to sleep, but I gave a noncommittal shrug.

“Maybe one,” Drew acquiesced.

We walked about five blocks to a pub, which surprised me. I would have thought a martini bar or a trendy nightclub would be more their speed. The place was dimly lit, a jukebox in the back played loud Janis Joplin, and the bar spanned the entire right side. Booths and tables peppered the back, heavy oak, nicked with years of use and abuse.

We sat in a booth, Drew and Olivia on one side, me on the other. I felt out of place and awkward.

Olivia was bursting with excitement. She kissed Drew’s cheek, leaving a tiny remnant of sticky shine, like a small brand. “I’m so thrilled. That was incredible!” Her arm linked through his, and he looked equally excited.

“I know. I can’t believe all the comments I received.” He flushed with pride. “Thank you so much for everything you did.”

I almost replied, “You’re welcome,” but realized just in time that he hadn’t been talking to me. Of course not. What had I done? Nothing. I showed up.

He gazed at Olivia with an expression I had seen on his face a hundred times, a mixture of love, lust, and adoration.

I stood up unsteadily and excused myself to the bathroom. I stood in front of the cracked mirror, took deep breaths.
Get a grip. Drew’s been watching me with Greg for years.
How many times had I kissed Greg or told him I loved him in front of Drew? A million. I was instantly sorry.
This is what Drew felt
.

I returned to the table, smiling as brilliantly as I could muster.
I would have to fake this. Somehow.
Drew and Olivia were bent together, heads touching, talking softly. I sat down, cleared my throat, and looked away.

Olivia stood up, leaned over, and kissed my cheek. “Claire, it was so wonderful to finally meet you. Can we all do lunch tomorrow before you go?”

“Sure, but are you leaving? Why?”

“I think you two need to catch up, and besides, I’ve been up since seven helping plan the opening. I’m exhausted.”

“Well, it was nice to meet you. Great job on the reception, I think. I’ve never been to a gallery opening before.”

She gave a small wave and was gone, out the door and swallowed into the New York streets.

I turned to Drew. “Was it something I said?”

“No, not at all. I think she just knew we needed some time together. She’s… like that. She knows what you need without asking, it’s so weird…” He gazed toward the door.

“You love her.” I hadn’t intended on saying it or even talking about Olivia. The words just came out.

He nodded. “I think I do.” His eyes searched mine. “I was more sure before today.”

“Why today?” It was a question with a known answer, unfair really.

He raked a hand through his hair. “You. Always you, Claire. My whole life…” He twirled the half-empty mug of his beer around in his hands, not making eye contact. “And now, here you are. Somewhat available. For the first time in our lives. But somehow, I’m not…”

I realized I was holding my breath. “What do you want, Drew?” I asked finally, watching my oldest friend wrestle with his emotions. I knew every line of his face, the curve of his jaw, every smile. I realized how unfair life had been to him, at least when it came to love. How unfair
I’d
been to him.

His eyes met mine, and his smile was wry. “I have no idea. For as long as I can remember, I’ve wanted only one thing. And now, I love two women. And even more unbelievably, two women seem to love me.” He gave me a look then:
Am I reading this right?

I studied the marred table surface and then nodded slowly, meeting his eyes. My heart hammered. He shook his head once and smiled wryly.
Figures.

We sat for a while, silent and consumed with our own thoughts, surely similar, but both of us unable or unwilling to vent them. Finally, he motioned for the waitress and paid the tab.

We walked back to his apartment in oddly comfortable silence. I linked my arm through his and wondered how our friendship had bounced back and forth across the line, and
yet,
we still felt so easy. I decided the answer was because he was Drew, because I could say anything to him, and he would always be there. He had been there for me, regardless of what it cost him, all my life. Had I ever repaid him? No, not likely.

I was struck with a sudden strong urge to go home, to do something, for the first time, for my old friend. I could leave him alone and let him love another woman, a woman so fantastic that she’d left him alone with me, his unrequited love.

Surely, she knew about us. Even if he had never explicitly told her, she was too savvy not to see it, plain in front of her face. She was also too smart to want a man who wanted someone else. I realized then that her leaving us alone was a way to ferret out who he really loved, and I smiled. In another lifetime, I would have liked being friends with Olivia.

When we got back to Drew’s apartment, I kissed him on the cheek and turned to go into the guest room. He grabbed my elbow and pulled me to him, his face inches from mine. His breath, hot on my neck, sent chills down my spine.

“Drew, think about it first, okay?” I pulled away. “Don’t throw away what you have. Be sure of what you want.” Gently, I disengaged his hand from my arm and walked into the guest room. I shut the door behind me and leaned against it. I heard him go into his room and close the door.