Henry got all three kids out of the car and started down the sidewalk with Ethan, who was now five, Henry III, who was two, and Adalyn, who was almost nine months old. Ethan was looking less and less like a baby, and more and more like a growing boy. He was getting tall and thinned out a lot. His face wasn’t as round as it used to be, and his hair was now cut short, per his request. Ethan wanted a Mohawk like little Henry, so both boys had short blonde Mohawks. Little Henry was turning out to be a spitting image of his father, looking exactly like Henry, except he had crystal blue eyes like his mother. It was funny how Ethan and Henry III looked so much alike even though they had different biological fathers.
Then there was Henry’s baby girl, Adalyn. She was a gorgeous little girl, naturally. She was her mother’s child with strawberry blonde curls and big bright blue eyes. Every time Henry took her out, he was constantly told that she needed to be modeling or on TV or something.
They walked up the steps to the Beck Gallery door and Ethan tried to tug it open. He got it partially open but it ended up being too heavy and Henry had to help. Ethan helped his little brother step up the last step and into the gallery, while Henry walked in behind them with Adalyn in his arms. He hasn’t been to Christian’s gallery in over a year.
The space was a decent size, with it being longer than wide, galley-style. There were partial walls set up in the middle of the room, splitting it in two in certain areas. There was artwork hung on every wall. Some of it was incredible – mostly Christian’s work – while the rest was pretty good for people who were just learning how to paint. Christian also set up a section just for the artwork of the kids he taught.
“Henry! What are you doing here?” Christian’s voice asked, pulling Henry’s attention away from the color-filled walls.
He looked up to see Christian striding toward him, his lean body moving smoothly and somewhat gracefully. He was wearing dark gray slacks with a medium purple shirt under a black vest and tie. His sleeves rolled up to his elbows and he had a black leather cuff on one wrist. His blonde hair was styled to perfection and his face was clean-shaven. Henry knew his brother was very fashion forward, but he was looking extra metro-sexual today.
“Hey, Christian.” Henry smiled, giving him a partial hug since Adalyn was in his arms. “Claire’s birthday is coming up; she’s been asking for one of your pieces, so I’m going to have the kids help me pick out a nice picture for her.”
Christian beamed with pride. “Really? That’s awesome.”
Henry nodded and handed over a squirming Adalyn to her favorite uncle. Christian took her and kissed her before settling her little diapered butt on his forearm. Adalyn’s fingers went right for his mouth as they always did. Christian chuckled and nibbled on her chubby fingers, making her giggle around the binky in her mouth. He high-fived Ethan, and pinched little Henry’s cheek.
“Daddy, can I go look around?” Ethan asked.
“Yes, but do not touch anything,” Henry warned sternly, getting a fervent nod from Ethan before he wandered off.
There were only about ten to fifteen people there, so Henry could see everywhere that Ethan went. Little Henry sidled closer to Henry’s side and slipped his hand into his daddy’s. He was a bit shy around people he didn’t know, but that had a lot to do with his age.
“Go ahead and look around. Let me know if you find something you like,” Christian said, bouncing Adalyn in his arms.
“Alright. You take that one, I’ll take this one,” Henry said, lifting his mini-me into his arms.
Christian nodded and sauntered off with Adalyn. Henry watched his brother walk away. Something seemed different about him, but Henry couldn’t figure out what it was. One thing he did notice was that Christian seemed happier lately, only in the past couple of weeks. Henry wondered what was making him so happy - a girl, maybe?
Henry walked around the gallery, one eye on the art, and one eye on Ethan. He stopped in front of one of Christian’s paintings. It was a black and white, and it was of a seemingly naked man tangled in the sheets on a bed. The man was on his stomach and his face turned away. Henry immediately recognized who it was; he’s known the guy almost his entire life. Why the hell would Christian paint a picture of Shea, naked, and sleeping in bed? Henry turned to look for Christian and found him standing slightly behind him, Adalyn still in his arms; the expression on his face was unreadable.