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I shake my head. “Melinda isn’t quite ready to make a live appearance. She’d rather have her artwork speak for her at this time.”
I secretly hope that one day Melinda will be here to talk about her art in person. Until that day, however, I am proud to be her voice. To tell the world about what a wonderful talent she is.
Which is exactly what I do for the next fifteen minutes with the shop owner. Whatever I say must convince her because she decides to purchase the painting on display as well as come back the following week when I tell her I’m expecting two new pieces from Melinda.
A little before nine o’clock, I decide it’s time to make my speech before the night gets too far from me.
As if he’s a mind reader, Diego brings over a flute of champagne. I watch as the caterers hand out flutes to the guests in attendance. My eyes land on my mother. Her eyes are full of tears. That almost does me in. I feel my knees get a little wobbly, but Diego places his hand at the small of my back.
“I love you,” he says in my ear, and then steps away, giving me space to be the focal point.
Though nervous, I tap my glass with the edge of a knife to get everyone’s attention. When all eyes turn my way, I search the crowd and seeing all of my family’s smiling faces brings a peace to my heart that I didn’t know was missing.
On instinct, I turn to the one man in the room who seems to always have his attention on me. My gaze lingers on him for a few moments as I gather my thoughts. I find strength in his eyes.
He gives me a small nod.
“I know you’re all enjoying the beautiful art surrounding us. So I will make this quick,” I say. “First, thank you all for coming. I can’t put into words how much it means to me that you’re here.
“For years, it’s been my dream to open an art gallery. Not just any gallery.” I make it a point to look at as many guests in the eye as possible. There’s Jocelyn and her grandmother, Sharia’s mother, Ms. McClure, Melinda Blake’s brother. Just a few of the artists or their representatives that helped to make tonight such a success.
“I wanted to provide a space for women artists whose voices have been stolen, robbed, or otherwise taken away, a space to showcase who and what they are. A place where shattered voices become whole again through the magic of art.”
I wave a hand toward the paintings on the walls.
“As you can see, the magic is all around us. I’m in awe of the women who’ve placed their trust in me to bring this vision to life. This gallery wouldn’t have been possible without them.”
I nod toward the artists. “Thank you.”
“And thank you to all of you,” I say again. “Welcome to Stolen Voices Gallery. I’m certain this will not be your last visit. There is so much more art to come.”
I hold up my glass of champagne and wait for everyone else to do the same.
“To restoring those stolen voices one piece of art at a time.”
Cheers sound around the room as I take a sip of my glass.
CHAPTER38
Diego
I can’t take my eyes off of her. As much as I want to be alone with her—to be inside of her—I want her to soak up every second of this night. I’ve kept my distance from the love of my life tonight for two reasons.
First, I don’t want to interrupt her time with the artists and the guests on her opening night.
Second, I know as soon as I touch her for too long, I won’t be able to keep myself from stealing her away. As I watch her in that long, black and red dress that beautifully accentuates the curves of her body, I imagine all of the ways that I will be taking her after tonight’s event.
“Have you bought the ring yet?” Uncle Damon’s voice asks behind me.
I turn around to face the man who raised the woman who owns my heart. There’s a sparkle in his eyes and a small smile on his face.
“I did,” I confirm.
“Do you have it on you?”
I shake my head. When I approached him a few weeks ago to let him know I planned on asking Monique to marry me soon, he asked to see the ring. Since I was having it specially designed, it wasn’t ready for anyone to see.
“I have a picture,” I tell him. “She’ll be the first one to see the real thing.”
