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“What’s that?” Valeria watches me worried as I sink to the bed in my strapless ivory gown. “Careful with your skirt.”
She arranges the full chiffon skirt around me, but my entire focus is on the thin envelope in my trembling hand. “They award the Arthaus residency…”
“Oh shit!” Lourdes cries, and Valeria pinches her arm.
“Language!”
“Sorry! Sorry, Sofia.” My bestie dashes to my side, watching me with huge eyes. “Do you need me to open it?”
“What’s the Arthaus residency?” Lola tugs the skirt of her pink chiffon gown higher so she can scoot to where I’m sitting—where I’m having a mini panic attack.
The baby moves in my stomach, and I slide my hand over her in a soothing way. “It doesn’t matter…” I say softly, doing my best to calm my racing heart. “Whether I got it or not, it doesn’t matter.”
“Give it to me.” Lourdes holds out her hand, and I pass it to her.
She rips the flap open and takes out the ivory sheet. A rectangular scrap falls as she does, but my eyes are fixed on her expression, waiting to see if it changes.
“Dear Ms. Treviño, We’d like to thank you for applying for the annual residency offered by our gallery…” Lourdes reads in a speedy monotone, and I feel like I’m going to throw up. “We believe this was our most competitive year with the level of talented applicants being of a caliber we’ve never seen…”
“I’m going to be sick…” My voice is quiet, my mouth dry.
“Oh no!” Valeria dashes to the bathroom and grabs the small trash can. “Don’t get it on your dress.”
“After much careful consideration and two rounds of voting…”
My mind is already finishing the sentence… I didn’t get it…
“We’re delighted to offer you this year’s Arthaus residency!” Lourdes screams the final words, and I’m pretty sure my heart stops. “Please inform us whether you intend to accept this award by Monday, June…”
She continues reading, but I can’t hear for the roaring in my ears. My eyes are flooded, and Lola is bouncing on the bed with Sofia beside me.
Valeria has her hand on her heart and tears in her eyes. “Your mother would be so proud.”
Through all the commotion, I hear a soft tapping on the door, and I stand, moving my dress around my feet so I don’t trip in my haste.
Deacon is on the other side of the patio door waiting. I can see his tall form and the darkness of his suit through the sheer curtain over the glass separating us. “Did you get it?”
“I got it!” I cry, my voice wavering as Lourdes hands me a tissue.
“Yeah, you did!” He laughs, and I want to rush into his arms.
“Deacon! What on Earth?” Winnie rushes up from the patio. “Shoo! You can’t see the bride before the wedding.”
“Then tell them to start it now. I need to hug my girl.”
I’m behind the door with my eyes closed, laughing and holding my stomach, my face lifted to the ceiling in sheer gratitude. “I can’t believe it.”
“I can.” Deacon’s voice is warm. “Meet me at the arbor, and I’ll show you how proud I am.”
The music starts, and Winnie rushes into the room. She’s the only one not dressed in pastel chiffon. Her dress is a straight, navy silk. “Everyone ready?”
“One last thing.” Lourdes dots my face with powder as the other girls line up.
“My heart’s beating so fast,” I whisp
er.
Our eyes meet, and hers fill with tears. “It’s all happening.”
