“I’m so proud of you, sweetheart,” my mom praises and gives me a big hug.
I look over her shoulder and let her admiration sink in. The nerves I had been fighting leading up to this moment had left the second Annabelle’s gallery filled to the point of bursting earlier, and I haven’t been able to stop smiling since.
When I got here, she had everything already set up, and with nothing to do but wait, I spent the quiet time I had walking the room with Nate, showing him all of my work.
The catering company Annabelle had hired had been working the room, passing out champagne flutes and light canapés. I’ve been enjoying a glorious buzz thanks to that. The low hum of classical music that was playing through the speakers earlier can’t even be heard over the light babble of this many people filling the room.
She had sent out something like two hundred invitations, not counting the huge crowd that came from my personal guest list, and it looked as if almost every single person had shown up.
The only thing I was still anxious about was hearing what ended up selling at the end of the night. Optimistically, I was hoping for at least half of my collection to sell, but I really would be happy with anything. Just being here and seeing my work on display as everyone visibly appreciates my pieces is the most wonderful gift to my soul.
“Thank you, Mom. It’s a little overwhelming but so exciting to see everyone loving my work.”
“What’s not to love?” my dad says from behind me, and I turn to smile up at him. “Except that woman wouldn’t let me buy one.”
My brow furrows. “Annabelle?”
“Snotty blond woman who looks like a stick is permanently wedged up her-”
My mom slaps her hand over his mouth, not letting him continue to complain, and gives me an apologetic look.
“That’s Annabelle. Did she give you a reason?” My mind races with reasons why she would deny a sale, to my own father of all people.
“Sure as hell did,” he answers against my mom’s hand, his lips turning up as he smiles brightly at me.
When my mom feels his smile, she drops her hand immediately and looks up at him with one of her own. It’s rare that he gives us this look, especially in public, so to see his stoic mask slip I know she is soaking it in too.
“Okay?”
“Sold out, my sweet girl. Every single fucking piece is sold.” His smile gets even larger as his chest puffs with pride.
“What?” I gasp.
“Oh my God, Emberlyn!” my mom exclaims, pulling me back into her arms with a bruising hug.
My dad wraps his arms around us both and hoarsely gives me the words that make my eyes prick with emotion. “Proud of you, honey. So damn proud.”
I’ve never doubted his pride, but I know he’s always worried about me since my career started out so quick. I had so much success with my work before I even left my teenage years behind, and when I left art school after two years to pursue my dreams, his worrying didn’t ease up. But this, tonight, goes a long way to extinguishing those thoughts in his mind.
“I need to go tell Nate,” I tell them, pulling out of her embrace.
My dad, shockingly, gives a nod of agreement. “You did good,” he states low and slowly follows with a smile that almost looks sad.
“Thank you?” I respond a little confused. He just said he was proud of me, so I’m not sure why he now looks sad about it.
“Talking about the man, not your night.”
“Oh.”
“Like I said, you did good. He did better, but you still did good. And if he makes you cry again, I’ll kill him.”
My nose tingles, and I look up at my big, strong father as I fight not to start crying. Maddi would kill me if I messed up my makeup, but I know my father would be upset if he was the reason I shed a tear … even if they were happy ones.
“I did do better, didn’t I?” I give a wobbly laugh when he winks, taking my mom’s hand and pulling her into the crowd over to where the Reids are—well, one-half of them since I don’t see Nate’s dad, Axel. The Becketts, Coopers, and Cages are laughing and smiling in the back corner.
Their children scattered around the room, as well, but I only have eyes for the long-haired man in black standing in front of A Beautiful War with his father at his side.
I’m stopped a few times on the way to him. A few critics from the local paper and the Atlanta Journal-Constitution stop me for a few quick questions, making my high for the night climb even higher. The AJC? Holy crap. That’s huge for them to feature an Atlanta artist! By the time I’m stepping up behind the Reid men, I might as well be walking on clouds I’m so happy.
“You going to tell her tonight?” I hear Axel ask his son.
“Yeah. I can’t wait any longer. It’s killing me to keep it from her.”