Everlasting (Unrestrained 6)

I smiled to myself and watched out the window at the passing scenery. I always knew Drake studied the social sciences. He once considered becoming a psychiatrist when he went into medical school. I had no idea he was up on feminist theory. My gaze moved over him, dressed in a crisp white button down shirt, black chinos and casual shoes. His hair was longish, his jaw covered in a few days-worth of scruff. He was gorgeous. I smoothed my sundress as I sat beside him, adjusting the light sweater I wore over top against the evening's cool breezes. The sundress was his favorite – thin straps, a built-in bra, and a back zip that he liked to slowly undo when he helped me undress. I hoped it would bring back fond memories of other times I wore it and he undressed me after.

We arrived at the venue and found a parking spot about a block away. Drake rushed around to my side of the car and opened the door for me, taking my hand and helping me out. Then, we walked arm in arm down the street to the gallery, which was lit up with floodlights and bright decorative lights at the entrance. The front door was open and we could hear music coming from inside – something soothing and classical. It sounded like a Mozart string quartet.

We went inside and picked up a glass of wine and brochure from a table just inside the front entrance, which gave the names of the exhibitors and a brief biography as well as one of the works of art. Then, we went from exhibit to exhibit, examining the works and discussing what we thought of each piece. There were watercolors and acrylics and sculptures and collages. The subjects were diverse and ranged from complete abstract to complete photo-realism and everything in between.

Drake held my hand the entire time and I felt relieved when, after half an hour had passed, we hadn’t run into Sean. It was when Drake slipped into the men's washroom that I did run into someone familiar.

I was admiring one of the watercolors of a local redwood trunk when I felt someone behind me. I turned abruptly, fully expecting to see Sean there with that grin on his face, but it wasn’t him.

It was Sefton.

Sefton deVilliers.

Just as I remembered him from Africa – smiling like he was the king of the world. Dressed in a dark blue suit with crisp white shirt, opened to display a thick gold chain. His hair was a bit longer, still blond, his eyes still a piercing dark brown.

Just the sight of him gave me shivers – but not the good kind. The creeped-out, bad news kind.

"Oh, God," I said and covered my heart with a hand. "I thought you were someone else."

"Sorry, but it's just me." He smiled, standing just a bit too close to me. "Fancy meeting you here. I guess it really is a small world."

"It is. Checking out the competition?" I said, glancing around at the other paintings, hoping that Drake would arrive quickly and rescue me.

He looked around as well, his hands in his pockets. "Some of them are good, but I'm not too worried." He turned back to me, a quizzical expression on his face. "You don't seem all that surprised to see me."

I shook my head. "I saw a flyer announcing your North American tour and that you were going to be in town this week. Quite impressive."

He smiled and seemed to puff up a bit.

"I looked you up when I was in Manhattan, but sadly, I was told you and Drake and your baby left for San Francisco. I thought I might find you here but I didn't expect to find you so easily."

"You were actually looking for me? After what happened in Africa?"

"Nothing happened in Africa, much to my chagrin," Sefton said, a quirk of a grin. "But I did want to see if I could find you."

I shrugged, not wanting to display any emotion towards him but disdain.

"I have a studio across the street." I gestured to the building where my studio was located.

"A studio?" he said and raised his eyebrows. "You're getting serious. I'll have to stop by and see your work."

Just then, Drake walked up and put his arm around my waist.

"I don't think so," he said, giving Sefton a curt nod.

"Are you speaking for your wife or do you let her make her own decisions?"

I squeezed Drake to indicate he shouldn't let himself get baited by Sefton's cracks.

Drake glanced at me quickly so I raised my eyebrows suggestively. He turned back to Sefton and I heard him exhale softly.

"I'm only letting you know so she doesn't have to. You’re one of those guys who can't take a hint. Last time I saw you, I believe I bloodied your nose because of it. I should have done more, considering how you practically assaulted my wife in Africa."

"You did, and she wasn't your wife yet, if I recall," Sefton said and ran his hand over his chin. "You threw a lucky sucker punch or I would have taken you down. I am taller and heavier than you."

"That you are," Drake said and stood a bit taller. I could feel his body tensing under my hand. "I figured you could take me, so I had to use whatever advantage I had at my disposal."

I glanced between the two of them, amazed that even now, they were acting like two cocks of the walk. They were both smiling, but their smiles were cold and didn’t reach their eyes.