The Muse's Undoing

“Guess not,” I say.

The table we’re seated at is round, so I naturally wind up between Maggie and Fischer. He takes hold of my hand underneath the tablecloth, interlocking his fingers with mine. Either our relationship is changing, or we merely missed each other. If it’s a combination of both, I might need a paper bag to breathe into.

As affectionate as we are in private, in public we just tend to hover around each other, “fooling around,” picking and tickling and taking jabs at each other. We’ve never held hands under a table before is what I’m saying.

Fischer orders a vodka tonic without batting an eyelash at the fact that it’s three-thirty in the afternoon. Following his lead, Mom and Maggie both order wine, and Stuart requests a Hefeweizen. I stick with water because I’m so fucking thirsty.

“Did you have a groom’s cake, Fischer?” is Maggie’s next random question. “I couldn’t remember.”

He shakes his head. “Just the one cake.”

“We’re tasting cakes in two weeks. You should come!”

I interrupt. “He doesn’t even like cake. Why do you need him to taste it?”

Maggie and Mom both look at me like I might need a valium. But Fischer’s slow head turn is what I feel in my soul. “He’s right. Hence—just the one cake,” he says, giving my hand a squeeze as my dick gives a throb at the word “hence.”

“Matty’s just jealous he’s working that day,” Maggie explains to my mother who’s still eyeing me like I’m a riddle she can’t figure out.

“Maybe you can bring your brother some cake,” Mom says tightly.

“I already told him I would. He’s grumpy because he works a ridiculous schedule and can’t sleep. You should let Stu buy you some blackout blinds.”

“Oh, absolutely,” Stuart pipes up. “The company who did the conference room did a great job. I could call?—”

“I don’t need blinds, but thank you. It’s just a thing. Happens every few months. It’ll pass.”

Fischer strokes his thumb over mine, and I remember how it felt on my mouth. I swallow on a parched throat.

“Oh! Fischer! Have you seen Matty’s new sculpture?”

I sigh.

“No, but I’m seeing it tonight.”

“Oh—you’re going there after this?” Mom asks.

“That’s the plan,” I say, filled with enough relief and validation that I can ignore the vague judgment in our mother’s question.

“You don’t have to go all that way,” Maggie says. “I have pictures.”

I slap her phone down as she tries to pass it to Fischer. “Do you mind? I want him to see it in person—same way you got to,” I add, just to make sure we’re all clear that I’m not doing Fischer any special favors. Yet.

She scowls at me. “Sooo-rry.”

I turn to Fischer whose smirk is so fucking sexy I could blow him under the table. “Stu thinks I can charge a million dollars for it.”

“I said one point two, minimum. As a starting point.”

Fischer says, “Sounds impressive.”

I need to get this man alone. As soon as possible. He’s not gonna know what hit him. Provided he’s okay with doing more than holding hands and talking. I might have to have myself castrated if not.

“One point two is a high price tag,” he adds.

“Well, it is big,” I say.

His throat bobs. “I don’t know how much size matters in this case.”