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“Erick.”
“It took a lot longer than expected, but I found a lead two days after you told me you were pregnant. It was meant to be, Hellie.”
“Erick. Stop. Wait.”
“It was being kept in a warehouse in Moscow. Cost a small fortune to pry it away from the owners, but money does work wonders sometimes. I suspect this painting has been in storage since the day it was stolen all those years ago.”
“It’s real, isn’t it?” I step forward, heart racing. I can see the differences now, between my version and this one. It’s so obvious to me with hindsight. How could anyone mistake my monstrosity for this piece of divine inspiration?
“It’s real,” he confirms. “The real version. Your copy is floating out there somewhere still, and nobody will ever know about this one. But it’s yours.”
I stand inches from the canvas, staring, my mouth open. It’s incredible, beyond incredible, a small miracle. I turn around to hug him—
But he’s down on one knee.
“Erick,” I say again, feeling dizzy.
“Heloise. Hellie. My devil girl. I love you so much, and I want you to be mine forever, in the same way I’m already yours. Will you marry me?”
I croak. It’s undignified but no other sound comes out. I have to nod, over and over, as he slides the ring onto my finger—a beautiful cluster of shimmering diamonds scattering the desert light.
I pull him up, hug him, and kiss him hard. “I’ll marry you,” I finally say, which makes him laugh, and we kiss until my mouth feels numb, and I’m crying a little bit, surrounded by green that shouldn’t be here, a life growing in my belly, an impossible painting on display for nobody but me and him to enjoy.
“Your father would’ve been proud of you, you know,” Erick says, kissing my neck.
“I agree,” I say, laughing and hugging him. “But you never know, he still might be. Now, let’s get this painting inside before it melts.”
“Sounds good to me.”
