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He gave a quick glance around to ensure he wouldn’t be overheard, then fucking ripped like hell. “I painted it.”
From the corner of his eye, he saw his dad’s head swivel in his direction, astonishment in his expression. Merit swallowed hard as he stared straight ahead. After a long, agonizing moment, his dad turned back to the canvas while lifting the glass in his hand for a drink.
“I think it’s going to look great in my office.”
Resentment surged forward. “I didn’t tell you that so you’d buy it. I don’t want your—”
“I bought it before I knew you’d painted it.” His dad extended his glass toward his mom and the gallery owner. “Your mother is arranging for it to be shipped to Washington as we speak.”
He didn’t quite know what to say to that. And then his dad walked past Merit, his gaze travelling along the walls of the gallery, from canvas to canvas. He followed until they reached a spot toward the back where the crowd had thinned to give a modicum of privacy.
“Are all of the pieces in this show yours?”
“Yes.”
The senator’s expression remained unreadable, and he took a breath to speak, then seemed to think better of it.
“Merit.”
He turned at his mom’s voice, and gave her a quick kiss and hug before she stepped back to stand next to his dad. She was elegant as ever with her rich, subtle scent of jasmine to compliment her black, tailored Dolce & Gabbana suit.
“Everything is all set,” she told his dad. “It’ll be sent Monday, after the holiday weekend.” She gestured toward the front of the gallery as she added, “Your dad bought the
Washington Monument up there near the front. We both loved it the moment we saw it.”
Hearing the praise when she didn’t know he was the artist made his chest tighten with emotion. He’d painted that the week after his father won his seat in the Senate last November. The hard knot of fear in his gut eased without him having swallowed a whole glass of champagne on an empty stomach.
His dad shot him a narrow-eyed glance before turning to his mom. “Did you know our youngest son is the artist of this show?”
“What?” Her wide gaze jerked to Merit’s. “Is that true?”
Pulse racing all over again, he lifted his eyebrows, shoulders, and palms in a what can I say gesture while her red lips formed an astonished O. Much like his dad, she ran her gaze around the room before facing him with her hands on her slim hips.
“Merit Matthew Diamond, how in the world did we not know about this?”
“No one knew. I haven’t told anyone.”
“Mae knew,” his dad stated, his gaze shifting past his shoulder and then back to his face. “That’s why she sent us the invite, isn’t it?”
“Yeah.” He grimaced. The betrayal still stung despite his parents’ favorable reaction to his art. He would have rather she forced the conversation and they argued about it than her breaking her word and going behind his back.
“Why not you?” his dad demanded.
There was a note of challenge in his voice, but when Merit met his gaze, he was surprised by a fleeting glimpse of anguish. When his dad didn’t look away, he realized he’d only ripped the Band-Aid halfway.
Pride lifted his chin as he admitted, “It’s always been a little hard to measure up in this family.”
“Measure up to whom?” his mom asked with a frown.
“Everyone. Loyal, Celia, Asher, Shelby. Even Grayson. I was never as good at sports as them, I struggled to get my As, and I didn’t start a career straight out of college. Then when dad cut me off and I looked for a job, I couldn’t get someone to hire me if I’d paid them. That day at brunch in July, I lied about the engineering job, and ended up working construction cleanup before Mae expanded and hired a second crew.”
“There’s nothing wrong with that,” his dad said solemnly.
“I was mopping floors and washing windows.”
“Job doesn’t matter as long as it’s honest work.”
“Well, after lying about it, I wanted to make sure I had something I could be proud of so I didn’t feel like a failure.”
