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When she stepped back, I saw tears welling in her eyes, the grin intact. I took her by the hand. “Let’s go inside, shall we?”
I led her into the gallery, weaving through the many townsfolk that gazed in awe at my wife’s artwork. We made our way to the corner, where my mother and Natalie were deep in what appeared to be a heartfelt conversation. Sophie was standing between them, marveling at an oil painting of the park across the street.
“Mommy, is that supposed to be me?” she asked, pointing to a faceless little girl sitting on a see-saw, her back turned to the viewer.
Natalie looked at her, beaming. “No, sweetheart, you were in school that day!” she said. “That is, unless you were skipping class…”
“No, Mommy! I would never!” Sophie cried out, and we all laughed.
Isabella congratulated Natalie, then snuck away to the snack table. I picked Sophie up, stepping into the conversation my mother and Natalie were having.
“I was just telling Natalie how excited I am to have another granddaughter,” she told me, her hand resting gently on Natalie’s belly. “She’s a lucky one, you know, to have such loving parents.”
Natalie and I smiled in unison. “We can’t wait to meet her,” I said. Natalie placed her hand atop my mother’s, the two of them cradling the unborn Skye.
“Well,” said my mother, after a moment of comfortable silence. “I’m going to join Isabella at the snack table.” Grabbing Sophie’s hand, she looked at Natalie, then at me. “It’s time the two of you had a moment,” she added with a wink, and then the two of them disappeared into the crowd.
I turned to Natalie, pulling her into a tight embrace and running my fingers through her hair.
“You’re doing an amazing job, they’re loving it,” I told her.
I felt the tension in her shoulders dissipate, and heard her let out a sigh of relief. She held me closer, burying her face into my neck. We remained that way for a long while, the chatter around us fading out. It felt as if we were the only two people in the room.
“Natalie!” called someone, from the other room.
“Just a moment!” she yelled, kissing my neck before letting go and straightening herself. I looked through the French doors, trying to deduce who had called out for her. But when I looked back at her, I noticed she was staring at me intently.
“What is it?” I asked her.
“It’s just—nothing, it’s silly.”
I smiled at her. “Tell me!” I said, playfully.
She blushed. “It’s just… I’ve painted you so many times, but every time I look at you, it feels like I’m seeing you for the first time. I know how corny it sounds.”
I brought a finger to her lips. “Not corny. Adorable, actually.”
She smiled, gently kissing the tip of my finger. “You get what I mean.”
“I do. But I think you’ve got it all wrong.”
Perplexed, she raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, all this time, you’ve been the artist, capturing the beauty in everything. But have you ever stopped to consider that maybe, just maybe, you’re the art? And that no painting in the world could capture your beauty?”
Natalie didn’t say anything. She only looked at me, and in her eyes I saw a brightness and innocence that brought me back to the first time I saw her, that fateful day we met on the plane— when there was no way I could have known how our lives would become so intertwined, or how she would one day become my everything.
THE END
