Beard Necessities (Winston Brothers, #7)(45)

“I like the duality of both, to be honest.”

“What do you mean?” Beau lifted his chin, his gaze fastened to her like she was the most fascinating and wonderful person in the world. But then, he always looked at her like this.

“Just that, two people, witnessing or experiencing the same event, can have two entirely different interpretations of the truth. To one person, the knot was a heart, and removing it devastated the stone such that it succumbed to the artist’s vision. To another, the knot was an obstruction to the stone, preventing it from being what or who it was meant to be.”

I felt the weight of Billy’s attention move to me, sure as a touch or a word softly spoken. I swallowed. I told myself not to look. But then I did.

Our gazes locked, held, and the impact raced through my body, to my fingertips and toes. He wasn’t smiling or frowning, just looking. But that was always enough to send me off-kilter. I only had myself to blame, but I’m a glutton for punishment and Billy Winston.

“The truth is in the eye of the beholder?” his deep voice asked. The question was directed to Shelly, but his eyes never left mine.

“Of course it is. Truth is always more relative than fiction. And the idea that two factual truths can exist at once, so diametrically opposed to each other, is completely fascinating. Don’t you think?”





Lined up, two by two, we waited for the elevator to take us down to the basement. According to Shelly, a hidden room had been discovered some forty years ago beneath the Florence cathedral which housed several sketches attributed to Michelangelo and his students. Parts of the walls had been carefully removed from the original, long-hidden room and placed in this underground space beneath the Academia Gallery, but the elevator down only held two people at a time.

Billy and Maya were first, Beau and Shelly next, Cletus and Jenn, and then Duane and I at the rear. Ash and Drew had moved on to the gift shop as Bethany had grown restless, asking several times and very loudly why David didn’t have any clothes on and whether he was cold.

“Um, Duane?” Maya flipped her dark hair over her shoulder and called back to us, her face apologetic. Maya looked a lot like her sister, except her skin was just a shade or two lighter than Sienna’s golden hue. “I’m sorry, I have to go to the bathroom. Will you show me where it is?”

“Sure.” Duane stepped forward, bringing me with him by placing a hand on my back. “Here, Claire. You go down with Billy. I’ll take Maya.”

“I—“

Ding.

“It’s arrived, time to get on,” Cletus announced.

Duane pushed—and I mean pushed—me onto the elevator and I turned, my wide eyes connecting with Billy’s. He hadn’t boarded yet and seemed just as perplexed as me by the sudden people shuffle. But then, Jennifer stepped forward and took his arm, guiding him into the tiny lift.

“There you go, sweetheart,” she said, punching the close-door button and leaning back, like she’d just helped a little old lady cross the street. “See y’all in a bit.”

I’d stepped back as far as I could go, but Billy’s body still crowded my space. It wasn’t until the doors shut behind us that recognition sharpened his eyes, as though he’d just realized what happened, where he was, and who he was with.

“Oh,” he said softly, edging away. “I’m—I . . .” His eyes were visibly and uncharacteristically unsettled. “It’s a small elevator.”

“It is,” I whispered tightly, not knowing where to set my gaze, my heart rate doubling.

He filled every inch of my vision, and he was just so dang big. I’d never felt the truth of his size before, not like this, not where it was just the two of us in a tiny space and his shoulders seemed to span the width of it, towering over me. Just before it became overwhelming, the doors slid open. I darted out and then stopped, discovering there wasn’t very far to go.

The room was just that, a room, maybe twenty feet square. A narrow wooden plank extended down the center of it and on either side the floor fell away, a drop of at least four feet. Along the walls and at a distance, tucked beneath arches and bathed in flood lighting, were wall sections, charcoal sketches on white plaster. And that’s it.

I turned. Billy still hovered near the closed doors of the elevator, his hands in his pockets, his wary eyes on me.

“This is very interesting,” I said—but mostly squeaked—gesturing to the space, feeling like I needed to defend the simple room for some reason.

Biting the inside of his lip, Billy nodded, his wariness persisting.

Clearing my throat, I walked down the plank, my hands clasped behind my back, pretending to be fully engrossed in the sketches. The truth was, I barely noticed them. What I did notice? The sluggish passage of time. One minute became two, maybe ten, maybe a hundred. I continued to stare unseeingly at the cut-out walls while he continued to hover by the elevator.

I wondered what his plan was. Maybe he wanted to leave as soon as the next party of two arrived? That made sense. It certainly would explain why he hadn’t taken more than a step away from the only escape route.

Well, that was just fine. Just. Fine. And maybe once he left, I’d be able to relax and actually look at the sketches, which should be any minute now. Surely, Beau and Shelly were on their way. Surely.

I had no idea what time it was. He continued to loiter, turning toward the doors, fussing with the button. The small room began to feel just as cramped as the elevator and I was having a little trouble regulating my breathing. How long have we been down here? Days?!