“Ick,” Angela said. “Save that for after the show, you two. No one wants to see it.”
“Angela!” I bolted from Liam’s arms and tackled her, but luckily, she was taller and stronger than I, and was able to hold us both steady enough not to fall. We squealed like the schoolgirls we were when we first met, holding onto each other in a fierce embrace.
“I have missed the shit out of you,” she said, patting my ass when she released me. “And look at this! Can you stop being such a badass, already?”
“Says the most highly sought-out architect in LA.”
She waved me off. “I design houses for rich people. You actually make art.”
“So do you, and you know it.”
She shrugged, admiring her manicure with a devious smile. “Alright, alright — so we’re both badasses.”
“Must have been something in the water there in Florence.” Her eyes flicked to Liam, then, and she smiled, opening her arms wide. “Come here, loser.”
Liam wrapped her in a big hug, the two of them holding onto each other with a warm smile afterward. “Great to see you, Ang. Where’s your better half?”
Before she could answer, another loud rumble of laughter and feet stormed toward us, and then Angela’s partner and former professor, Gabriella, swept into the room with Anna on her shoulders and Nella and Kyle hot on her heels.
“AIRPLANE COMING THROUGH!” she screamed, twirling around the three of us upon entry, which made Anna giggle and throw her hands up in the air.
“Careful!” I called, but couldn’t help but laugh, too.
“That little one is going to give you a run for your money,” Liam’s mom said when she caught up to us. “She’s the spitting image of her father at that age.”
“Lord help us all,” I said.
Maureen Benson was a spitfire, and I hadn’t expected anything less when I’d met her for the first time in the fall after Liam and I met. I knew to raise a man that stubborn, she had to be both a drill sergeant and a saint. She and her late husband’s mother had invited me into the family long before Liam proposed. The three of us just had an understanding from that very first meeting, and our relationship had grown stronger every year since. And though Grandma had passed away a few years ago now, I knew she was still with us in spirit.
“Your parents are parking now,” she said. “And I should warn you — the flower arrangement your father got you is so big, they couldn’t shut the trunk all the way.”
I chuckled. “He wouldn’t be my father if he brought anything less.”
As if on cue, Mom and Dad walked through the doors down the hall, Dad balancing a gargantuan arrangement of roses and lilies as Mom tried and failed not to tear up as soon as she laid eyes on me.
I smiled, sweeping her into a hug, and laughing as her tears of pride soaked my shoulder.
“You haven’t even seen the exhibition yet, Mom.”
She sniffed, wiping her tears with a tissue when she pulled back. “I don’t need to to know it’s amazing. We are so proud of you, sweetheart.”
“Very proud, Pumpkin,” Dad echoed, lost somewhere behind the roses. “Uh… any place I can set this?”
Liam chuckled, taking the flowers from Dad and setting them on one of the empty benches before they clapped hands in a firm handshake. He hugged my mom next, and then we all gathered in the gallery.
The next hour or so was spent drinking champagne and eating hors d’oeuvres provided by the museum as the staff led us around the exhibit, practicing the presentation they would give patrons when they visited themselves. It felt a little like an out-of-body experience, hearing them talk about my work, about me, as if I was someone important.
“Hey,” Liam said when we rounded the first aisle and into the next. “I hope you’re soaking up every minute of this moment, because you deserve it.”
“It feels surreal.”
“Well, it’s not. You earned this, my love. This is all you.”
My eyes watered, and I nodded, leaning into him for a hug before we rejoined the rest of the group.
“Momma, will you paint me a picture?” Kyle asked me when we made it back to them, his little hand grabbing mine.
“Of course. What do you want me to paint?”
“Um… a horse! And a cowboy!”
I laughed. “Anything else?”
“Oh, I want one, too!” Anna said. “I want a unicorn!”
“Unicorns aren’t real,” her brother told him.
“Doesn’t mean they can’t be painted,” I argued, which made Anna stick her tongue out in victory.
“Will you paint one for me?” Nella asked behind them.
I smiled. “I already have.”
“You have?” she asked, her eyes wide with wonder.
I nodded, and then I took her hand and led her away from the group to one of the canvases we’d already passed.