“I'm on the rooftop terrace of the hotel having a drink with my beautiful wife. Now stop calling.” He snapped the phone shut.
"What was that all about?" I asked.
"Who the hell knows." He rolled his shoulders and then he slid his arm along my back and leaned over and gave me a kiss on the cheek. "There. All better now."
"Monsieur Strong?" a well-dressed man asked as he approached our table.
"Since when do they speak French in Spain?” I asked.
"My name is Christian LaMont. I know your brother, Ryan and his wife, Kellie. I arranged their wedding."
Hunter and I looked at each other and smirked. Apparently Christian LaMont still didn't know that Ryan and Kellie’s original wedding was fake.
Hunter extended his hand, shaking Christian’s. "It's nice to meet you Mr. LaMont."
"Please call me Christian."
"I'm Hunter and this is my wife, Natalie."
It always sent a thrill through my body to hear Hunter refer to me as his wife.
"Will you join us for a drink?" Hunter asked Christian.
Christian waved his hand. "No, no, I know you're on your honeymoon. But your brother asked that I deliver this to you. He knew I was going to be down here in Spain and had it sent to me to deliver to you."
"Why didn't he just send it to us directly?" I asked. The family had our itinerary. Then again, Hunter and I could be spontaneous. It was possible we’d take off for Greece or something.
"He had a concern about catching you in the right place,” Christian explained. “And I’ll be honest, I hoped to meet you. I’m very much looking forward to working with the family behind Strong Incorporated.”
I guess that explained the phone call.
Christian held out a glossy magazine to me. I looked at the title as I took it from him, and my heart sang a little bit. It was the premier art magazine, not just in the United States, but also around the world.
"What is it?" Hunter asked me.
"It's the crème de la crème of art magazines." I ran my hand over the colorful cover.
"You speak French," Christian said.
"Not really. Just the French phrases that we've adopted in the United States,” I said.
Christian pointed to the magazine. "It’s suggested that you go to page forty-three."
Intrigued, I fanned the magazine stopping at page forty-three. I gasped as I read the title and took in the photos. Not sure I was seeing what I was really seeing, I looked to Hunter.
He smiled.
“You know about this?” I asked him.
He nodded. “I asked the family’s help in fixing what that other magazine ruined.”
I was so overwhelmed with emotion that tears formed in my eyes. I looked back down at the magazine, taking in what it said. The author of the article didn’t mention anything about my relationship with Hunter and instead discussed my art and how it had evolved in my short career. Even more than that, there were quotes from other art critics, all of whom were complementary in their critiques, even when they hinted that I was still evolving.
Hunter’s arm came around me. “You’re a bonafide artist now, baby.”
I turned to him and threw my arms around his neck.
He laughed. “I love these bursts of affection.”