That was it. I couldn’t do it. Eyes narrowed, wine glass lowered, I said, “I’m sorry… What did you say?”
Nancy sighed dramatically. “It’s a shame, really. Gavin told us all about how you denied having a child for him because you weren’t ready and had to focus on your businesses before you made the commitment to having a baby. I mean, honestly, it’s pretty selfish, you know. You just can’t seem to prioritize therightthings, can you? Depriving him of his future children and my future grandchildren. You aren’t getting any younger, either.”
My grip on the wine glass tightened. The stem pressed into my palm as my jaw locked.
Slowly, I set it down, my gaze settling on him.
Gavin was silent. He couldn’t even fucking look at me.
“You told them that?” The words came slow, measured and steady.
Gavin’s throat bobbed, his fingers tightening around the base of his wine glass like he wanted to disappear into it, his eyes wide, staring ahead like a deer in headlights.
There was a heavy silence as his parents waited for an answer… a reaction, like this was all a big game.
I didn’t give them one.
I couldn’t. Not when my first reaction would be to strangle mylovinghusband.
Beckham
Exiting my bedroom, I paused at the top of the steps. A rustling sound. Someone was at my art station.
Coming downstairs, I found my father occupying himself as he casually flipped through my recent sketches, as if he had every right to be here.
Ignoring him, I instead gathered the misplaced brushes, placing each one back in its designated spot.
His gaze settled on me like a weight.
“Looks like you’ve kept yourself quite busy.” His voice was even.
I didn’t respond.
His attention shifted, locking onto my easel… ontoher. My little flower, painted across the chunky knit blanket.
I had yet to finalize the details, but even unfinished, it was one of my most deliberate and intentional works. It wasn’t just her form I captured. It was the tension in her spine, the way her fingers curled as if bracing herself to let go—a woman caught in the moment between resistance and surrender.
The only thing tying it to her was the delicate tattoo etched along her ribs—my favorite part.
My father’s gaze lingered on the painting longer than I liked before it slid to the new setup… the black knit blanket, the deep red rose petals carefully arranged.
I had already planned the layout for our next session.
But I decided to be nice and give her some time to herself.
For now.
He didn’t speak, only observed, rubbing his chin in quiet thought.
I was almost certain he wanted to ask if I had a model I was working with, but he didn’t… almost as if he didn’t want to know.At least not right now.
“Yes... quite busy indeed.” His voice held a note of something unreadable.
I folded my arms, finally turning to him.
“Is there a reason you’ve decided to bother me on this previously perfect afternoon, Father?”
He studied me, his mind calculating. “I wanted to check in and see how much progress has been made for the upcoming exhibit.”
