Part 22 (1/2)

”Now that would be a first.” Mick shook his head and grinned. ”When my Rivka leaves her pretty nose out of her sister's business--”

”What about my nose?” Rivka appeared suddenly beside him. Mick smiled shamefacedly and kissed her. ”The rest of the boys are waiting for you, Mickey.”

Mick took the pointed hint and tipped an imaginary hat toward Alex. Rivka watched her black-haired husband weave his way through the crowd to the small stage area and sighed. She turned and signaled to the bartender.

”I'll have a white wine.” She pointed to Alex. ”He's paying.”

Obligingly, Alex pulled out his wallet and paid for her drink. They sat in mutual silence for a few minutes. From behind them, The Roving Ramblers began their next set. Mick had forsaken his guitar for a set of uillean pipes, and the haunting melody seemed to squeeze Alex's throat until he could hardly

breathe.

”This is one of my favorites,” Rivka remarked off-handedly. ”It's so sad, though. Don't you just feel like crying?”

Alex looked at her sternly. ”Don't play games with me, Rivka. You said you weren't going to talk to me about Sarah, so I haven't said anything. Yes, I'm upset about losing her, but what can I do? I've wracked my brains to think of a way to prove I love her, and I just can't come up with one. It really burns me up that she didn't just trust me.”

Rivka clicked her tongue against her teeth. ”You know about William, of

course.”

Alex growled and finished the rest of his pint. ”I'd like to punch that b.a.s.t.a.r.d right in the face. It's all his fault.”

Rivka rolled her eyes and looked so much like Sarah his heart hurt again. ”It's not William's fault, Alex. It's yours, and Sarah's, too. Poor Billy is only an excuse.”

Without asking, the bartender took Alex's mug and refilled it. Alex stared at the thick, creamy head of foam atop the dark brew. He knew Rivka was right.

It was just easier to blame things on William Darcy.

”So what can I do about it?”

Rivka rolled her eyes again and added a sigh so deep it had to have come from her toes. ”Men!”

”What?” Alex's defenses rose. ”Rivka, I feel bad enough, so if you're going

to man bash...”

”I'm not going to bash anyone.” Rivka finished the last of her wine. She stood up and tugged his shoulder. ”C'mon.”

He looked at her warily. The Roving Ramblers weren't even close to finis.h.i.+ng

their gig. Rivka's grin made him nervous.

Suspicion filled him. ”What do you want?”

”Come with me to the Gallery. To the studio. I want to paint you.”

”Oh, no.” Alex shook his head. ”No way.”

She frowned. ”C'mon. You need this.”

”I need this?”

”Yeah. You need this.”

”Like I need a hole in my head.” Alex grumbled, but he got off the stool. Rivka had a way about her that didn't make her easy to deny. For one moment, Alex both envied and pitied Mick Delaney, who had made this wacky woman his wife.

”I'll give you a hole in your head if you don't move your b.u.t.t.” Rivka laughed. ”C'mon, Alex, I need another X-Man.”

Even though he was already on his feet and following her out of the bar, Alex stopped. ”The X-Men again. What am I, just a face?”

Rivka didn't wait for him, instead pus.h.i.+ng open the door to the parking lot. She called over her shoulder to him. ”G.o.d gives us certain things in life, Alex. It's stupid to deny them.”

Like he was being sucked along in the wake of an avalanche, Alex followed her to the lot. The frigid night air swept away some of the cobwebs he'd been allowing to cover him. He couldn't believe he was actually going along with this.

The drive to The Gallery on Second was too short. He groaned to himself as he followed Rivka inside and to the small studio in the back. He watched as she flicked on lights and busied herself with pots of paint, brushes, and canvas.

”Rivka, I really don't think I want to do this. I don't see the point.”

Rivka turned toward him, no longer teasing. ”The point is it will make you feel better.”

He barked out something that was supposed to be a laugh, but didn't quite make it. ”This whole issue with Sarah is because she says I'm too good looking to fall in love with her. How can having my portrait painted make me feel any better about that? Are you going to show me with warts or something? A hunchback?”

Rivka was busy sc.r.a.ping her short curls away from her face and pinning them. ”You don't have any warts. And your back looks fine to me.”

”I wish I did have warts! Or a whole bunch of scars.”

”Chicks dig scars.” Rivka pointed. ”Sit.”