And I got the whole damn thing to myself. No sharing wall space. I got to fill as much of it as I wanted.
Admittedly, I'd gone a little crazy. But, despite usually hearing only positive things about my art, there was still that insecure little artist inside of me that was sure people were going to drag her through the mud.
So I'd filled the place with all different styles from landscapes to portraits and everything in between.
The crowd was amazing, too. Between my old art school buddies and Fitz's friends, it had been pretty much packed since the doors opened.
Fitz was standing with my parents looking at a portrait I'd done of my mom walking in her garden in a flowing tan dress, her hair kicking up in the breeze, her arm extended, running her fingers over the faces of the wildflowers she'd planted many years before.
It was one of my favorites.
Enough so that I'd painted it twice.
One to sell, one to keep.
"Can I steal Fitz for just one minute?" I asked, linking my arm through his.
"Of course you can, honey," my mom said, giving me a big smile.
"What's going on?" Fitz asked, brows pinching as I led him toward the back of the gallery.
"I have a painting that I did just for you," I told him, barely able to contain my amusement, my little joke that I hoped would be as funny to him as it was to me.
"You did?" he asked, sounding touched. "Wait, Wynn," he said, eyes going big.
"It's not a cock canvas, don't worry," I told him, leaning my head against his arm. "Here," I said, breaking away to move a carefully positioned fake plant out of the way.
And there it was.
My gift to him.
A big, ugly white canvas with a few black and gray streaks across it.
"In homage to your terrible taste in art before you met me," I said as he stared at it for a second before he burst out laughing.
I thought nothing of him reaching into his pocket.
But then he was lowering himself down on one knee.
And opening the little blue box in his hand.
Then there it was.
The perfect ring.
Not a plain clear diamond cut in a circle or a square, a stone and a style that wouldn't have suited me at all.
No.
It was a big ol' pear-cut yellow diamond lined with little pink diamonds.
Over the top, colorful, and unique.
Perfect.
It was absolutely perfect.
"Oh my God," I gasped, my gaze slipping from the ring to his lovely face. The face of the man who was making all my dreams—ones I'd known all my life, and ones that I was just starting to realize—come to life.
"Marry me, Wynn," he said, voice low even as the gasps and Awwws from the crowd started as they realized what was happening.
Was it still a relatively new relationship?
Yes.
But had I known almost since the moment we'd finally gotten together that it was something different, something special?
Absolutely.
"Yes," I said, sticking my hand out toward him.
He grabbed the ring and slipped it on my finger.
Once it was on, I reached out, grabbing his face, leaning forward, and sealing my lips to his.
Fitz got to his feet, wrapping his arms around me, and deepening the kiss.
We broke apart to applause, and even as my mom rushed forward, a familiar voice rose above the other noise in the room.
"Yay! I didn't miss it!" Perry squealed, running through the crowd, and throwing herself at the both of us.
"Per!" I said, squeezing her back with one arm, my other one still around Fitz. "You came!"
"Of course I came. I was going to come just for the exhibit because it is a huge deal, but then your man here told me it was going to be an extra special event, and sent me a ticket to fly out. First class ticket, I might add. It was a fancy flight," she said, giving Fitz a big smile. "He's a keeper," she declared.
"I'm keeping him," I agreed, showing her the ring.
"Oh, it's as perfect as he said it was," she said, huge smile on her face.
"It is," I agreed. "So how are you?"
"Good! I am loving the warmth out in L.A. And the people. They're all as dramatic as I am," she said with a smirk that said she knew she was over-the-top a lot of the time. "And the show is fantastic."
"You have a lot of chemistry with both those guys," Fitz said, being my fellow soap opera addict.
Perry's gaze slid to mine, a light in her eyes that was unmistakable.
Yes, Perry liked being shared.
And something was telling me that her on-screen triangle was, in fact, a real-life three-way relationship of some sort.
"I'm so happy for you," I told her, reaching out to give her hand a squeeze.
"I'm so happy for you too. Oh, except for this," she said, looking past me at the piece I'd done for Fitz as a joke. "What the hell is this?" she asked.