“The same grandpa who worships at Nan’s feet and treats Glyn like a spoiled princess?”
“That one, yes. Your nan tamed him. Before her, he was an insufferable prick and was often cross with us. We clashed all the damn time.” He shakes his head with apparent nostalgia and extends his hand.
I pass him the bowl of potatoes before he even asks for it. We’re in sync like that, Dad and I.
“Really? But you guys have a good relationship now.”
“That’s the thing about relationships. They take work and time. Besides, admittedly, I was a little wanker as a teenager. I might have burned down his mansion and caused enough problems in school to make him a permanent visitor.”
My hand pauses on stirring the broth. “No way.”
“Let’s say I was wild.”
“I can’t believe that. You, wild? Intense, yes. But wild?”
“Wilder than an untamed black horse. No one could restrict me. Not even your grandfather.”
“Wow. It’s hard to imagine you doing all that.”
“Who do you think your brother gets his behavioral issues from?”
“Oh.” I continue stirring, breathing in the smell of aromatic basil and oregano. “Oh! Is that why you were strict with him at one point?”
“It was like watching myself and seeing the image from Uncle’s point of view. Not a pleasant feeling.” He clutches my shoulders. “But I have you, so I can’t complain.”
He pushes past me to the cupboard and I remain frozen in place, the thoughts from earlier rushing to the surface like a hungry shark.
“Will you be ready to serve in twenty?” he asks while fetching a salad bowl.
“Yeah, I think I can make it.”
“Make what?” Mum calls before I’m attacked from behind by a hug.
She’s much shorter than me and I have to bend so she can kiss me on the cheek.
Mum’s hair is gathered in a messy bun and some paint smudges her shirt’s sleeves. Unfortunately, I came at a time when she’s battling a deadline, so I haven’t seen much of her and she keeps apologizing for that, but I get it. I’m also supposed to be working on something. The keyword being supposed to.
The thought of painting those mindless nature scenes bores me to fucking death.
“Something smells divine.” She tries to sneak past Dad, but he wraps his arms around her waist and kisses her, then pushes her in the direction of the dining room.
“Go relax. We’ll serve in a bit.”
“I love it when my boys spoil me.” She strokes his hair and fixes his collar.
While I continue stirring, I can’t help watching them.
I grew up surrounded by their passionate, unconditional love and that’s one of the reasons that hope was kept alive inside me—as futile as it is.
“Dad, the oven,” I say and he finally releases her.
“By the way, Grace will be joining us for dinner. Can you count her in?” She stops beside me, grinning contagiously. “This is a good opportunity for you, baby. She’s really considering signing you. Isn’t that wonderful?”
“I already found an agent, Mum.”
“Oh. Who?”
“Maxine Saul.”
“Landon’s agent? She’s high on sculpting and wouldn’t get you. Besides, Grace is a household name and much more well-known and respected. She’ll get your work out there in no time. I was so lucky when she took me on.”
“I don’t think she appreciates my style.”
“She said she does. Come on, Bran. Just listen to what she has to say. If you don’t like it and still prefer to go with Maxine, I’ll respect your choice.”
I nod and she hugs me again before disappearing to the dining room.
“You don’t have to agree to anything,” Dad says. “Your mum wants you to sign with a celebrity agent because she worries about your future, especially since you’ve been refusing to take part in exhibitions, unlike Lan. But if you want to tell us anything, we’re all ears. Maybe you don’t want to continue with art. Maybe you prefer to go a different path. Whatever it is, we’re here.”
The tension disappears from my shoulders as I nod with a smile. Why does he always say the right words to make me relax?
When the four of us sit down for dinner, however, that tension returns in waves.
I try to swallow past the lump in my throat as they talk about Mum’s upcoming exhibition and how they’re expecting brilliant results.
Everyone can’t wait for it.
“You’ll be there, right, Bran?” Grace asks me with her posh, slightly snobbish upper-class accent.
Grace Bruckner is indeed a household name. She has three artists under her wing, all of whom are world-renowned and have bagged multiple awards. She’s about Mum’s age but couldn’t be any more different.
She dresses in red most of the time. Even now, she has on a red camisole, heels, earrings, and lipstick. The only different color is her black pencil skirt.
Her platinum blonde hair falls to her shoulders in a perfect bob, and she often wears a fake smile, probably because of the Botox.
“Sure. Anything for Mum.” I smile and my mother gives me heart eyes.
“Lan, too?” Grace pushes.
“You’ll have to ask him. He’s been…quite busy lately.”
“Apparently, he has a girlfriend who’s keeping him in line.” Mum’s words drip with glee like when I first told her about Mia and how she’s possibly taming her ‘wild child.’
“In line?” Dad scoffs. “I’ll believe it when I see it.”
“You have my word, Dad. I’ve never seen him dedicated to anyone like he is to her. He even asked me for lessons in empathy.”
“That seems serious.”
“Dead serious.”
“How charming.” Grace takes a sip of her wine. “What about you, Bran? Any girlfriend?”
Pain rips through me at that and I choose to remain silent as I stuff my face full of food.
“No one?” she insists.
“Forget it, Grace. Bran likes to keep his relationships to himself.” Mum laughs. “Maybe one day we’ll get to meet your special someone, hon.”
Fat chance.
“So, Bran.” Grace leans forward in her seat. “I’m sure Astrid told you, but I’m officially considering signing you. Can you make time for us to discuss this further? Preferably in the studio, where I can see your recent work.”
“How about Glyn?” I ask.
She continues sipping her rosé wine. “Glyn is still too young and is in the process of developing her style. I’ll wait a few years before I move on to her. Let’s focus on you now.”
“Isn’t that exciting?” Mum grins at me. “We can do exhibitions together in the future.”
“That’s an excellent idea,” Grace agrees. “In fact, depending on what I see, I think we might be able to slip a painting or two into your upcoming exhibition.”
“Oh my God. You can do that?”
“It’s not an easy feat, but I can make it happen for you both.”
“Bran? What do you think?” She smiles so big, it makes me sick to my stomach. “Lev, hon, we need to open a bottle of champagne.”
He gauges my expression. “Are you ready to take this step, son?”
“I…need to think about it.” I dab my lips with the napkin and stand up on slightly unsteady feet. “I have to work on an assignment. Please enjoy the rest of your dinner.”