The Chaos of Stars

I can feel her smug smile through the phone. “Is he kind? Does he come from a good family? Does he treat you well?”

“Mother. I have to go. They’re bringing in your bust and I’d hate for them to damage it.” Actually maybe I can convince them to accidentally knock off one of her nipples. Preferably both. “We’ll talk later.”

“Very well. Be safe, Little Heart.”

I almost hang up, but I pause. “You, too.”

A crash and a litany of swearing from the movers saves me from the helpless feelings welling up in me. Work now. Emotions later.

The next morning Ry texts me at six a.m. to come down and let him in. I’ve been at the museum all night, touching up paint where it got dinged, adjusting placement, and so on and so forth. It’s not easy working with this junk, either, because even though I know we’ve got a ton exactly like it at home, here it’s all invaluable, priceless junk. So everything had to be done in gloves and with the utmost care, under the watchful eyes of two security guards.

I push open the back door and Ry’s there, illuminated by the pale morning light and the overhead lamp that hasn’t turned off yet. He’s wearing a blue sweatshirt jacket with the hood up, and it makes his eyes an impossible color. If I were an artist, I’d spend all day mixing paints trying to capture it. If I were a normal girl, I’d want to lean forward and trace my finger down his face and get lost in that blue.

Oh, idiot gods, this is what lust feels like. I guess I finally understand.

“I thought you’d need this,” he says, holding up a bottle of Coke.

Now I really want to jump on him. I am in so much trouble, and, honestly, I don’t know if I care anymore. I’m feeling braver by the hour. “Thank you,” I say, taking it and not minding that my fingers trace against his as he passes it to me.

“I also have the tape. Tyler said she’ll be here later because she has to stay after and set up the hospitality tables, so she won’t have time to go back home and change.”

“Ah. Well. Bad news is that we now only have until ten a.m. to make any adjustments. We have to be out by then so they can finish connecting all the alarms and go through a few test runs of the system.”

“Chug that Coke and let’s get to work, then.”

We spend the next four hours in a flurry of activity. Fortunately we’re both tall enough that we can use a smaller ladder to seal the line between ceiling and wall, but

even that takes a lot of creative stretching since several of the pieces are flush against the wall. It takes us longer than it should to get the tape exactly right since we have to work together instead of at opposite ends of the room like I’d planned.

For the last corner, I have to stand on the top of the ladder and stretch, without putting any weight on the false walls. Ry puts his hands on my waist, steadying me, and I realize I am not afraid of falling.

Maybe he was on to something with those decorating metaphors, after all.

I smooth the last piece of tape, and luck is finally with us. The room is dimly lit enough at the top that by the time we finish taping, it’s almost unnoticeable. You’d have to be looking for it. With the setup drawing all eyes to the display pieces, I doubt anyone will.

“We don’t need to paint,” I say, laughing and giddy with relief and exhaustion.

“Should we turn off the extra lights and flick the stars on? See how it looks?”

We’ve got floodlights in while we’re working, which will be out of here in a few hours, and we haven’t seen the full effect yet. But . . . I don’t want to.

“Let’s wait. I’d rather see it for the first time tonight. Besides which, if there’s something wrong, I can’t fix it. I’d rather not know.”

He laughs. “It’s going to be perfect. It’s amazing.”

I smile and nod, examining the room one last time, envisioning what it will look like when the drop cloths are taken off the exhibits and all of the effect lighting is on. It’ll work. It has to.

“Now I’m taking you home so you can sleep and get ready before your big debut.”

I don’t argue. Every part of me aches, and if I don’t get a nap before tonight, I’ll be dead on my feet. I want to enjoy this. We walk out, closing the door behind us and nodding at the security guards.

“Hey!” Tyler waves, coming up the stairs and meeting us halfway. She’s wearing sleek black pants with red heels and a white button-up shirt, her hair pulled into a tight, high ponytail. She nods toward the guards. “Tweedledee and Tweedledeelicious up there permanent fixtures?”

“Yup.”

“Wait, are you done?”

I nod, the prospect of my bed calling and making my brain heavy and slow. “Done.”