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I grew up surrounded by their passionate, unconditional love and that’s one of the reasons that hope was kept alive inside me—as futile as it is.
“Dad, the oven,” I say and he finally releases her.
“By the way, Grace will be joining us for dinner. Can you count her in?” She stops beside me, grinning contagiously. “This is a good opportunity for you, baby. She’s really considering signing you. Isn’t that wonderful?”
“I already found an agent, Mum.”
“Oh. Who?”
“Maxine Saul.”
“Landon’s agent? She’s high on sculpting and wouldn’t get you. Besides, Grace is a household name and much more well-known and respected. She’ll get your work out there in no time. I was so lucky when she took me on.”
“I don’t think she appreciates my style.”
“She said she does. Come on, Bran. Just listen to what she has to say. If you don’t like it and still prefer to go with Maxine, I’ll respect your choice.”
I nod and she hugs me again before disappearing to the dining room.
“You don’t have to agree to anything,” Dad says. “Your mum wants you to sign with a celebrity agent because she worries about your future, especially since you’ve been refusing to take part in exhibitions, unlike Lan. But if you want to tell us anything, we’re all ears. Maybe you don’t want to continue with art. Maybe you prefer to go a different path. Whatever it is, we’re here.”
The tension disappears from my shoulders as I nod with a smile. Why does he always say the right words to make me relax?
When the four of us sit down for dinner, however, that tension returns in waves.
I try to swallow past the lump in my throat as they talk about Mum’s upcoming exhibition and how they’re expecting brilliant results.
Everyonecan’twait for it.
“You’ll be there, right, Bran?” Grace asks me with her posh, slightly snobbish upper-class accent.
Grace Bruckner is indeed a household name. She has three artists under her wing, all of whom are world-renowned and have bagged multiple awards. She’s about Mum’s age but couldn’t be any more different.
She dresses in red most of the time. Even now, she has on a red camisole, heels, earrings, and lipstick. The only different color is her black pencil skirt.
Her platinum blonde hair falls to her shoulders in a perfect bob, and she often wears a fake smile, probably because of the Botox.
“Sure. Anything for Mum.” I smile and my mother gives me heart eyes.
“Lan, too?” Grace pushes.
“You’ll have to ask him. He’s been…quite busy lately.”
“Apparently, he has a girlfriend who’s keeping him in line.” Mum’s words drip with glee like when I first told her about Mia and how she’s possibly taming her ‘wild child.’
“In line?” Dad scoffs. “I’ll believe it when I see it.”
“You have my word, Dad. I’ve never seen him dedicated to anyone like he is to her. He even asked me for lessons in empathy.”
“That seems serious.”
“Dead serious.”
“How charming.” Grace takes a sip of her wine. “What about you, Bran? Any girlfriend?”
Pain rips through me at that and I choose to remain silent as I stuff my face full of food.
“No one?” she insists.
