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My eyes met my mother’s. To my surprise, they glistened with emotion.
“Before the art festival, I was afraid of letting you see this part of me, of opening myself to criticism or judgement. But I realize now that vulnerability is the price of sharing one’s art, one’s truth. Just as dye flows onto canvas, so must we flow out into the world, colors exposed for all to see.”
I heard a murmur of agreement ripple through the room. Marco nodded slowly, a glint of respect in his usually impassive eyes.
“We often speak of artists finding their voice. But sometimes that voice starts as a whisper, grows to a cry, then settles into something quiet yet strong. My journey has been one of patience, of learning to restrain and release. Of accepting imperfection as the pathway to growth.”
I swept my arm towards the paintings adorning the walls.
“These works represent that evolution. I cannot promise they will speak to you as they speak to me. But I hope you will hear echoes of your own becoming in their depths.”
I felt Dylan squeeze my hand gently, bolstering me for what I needed to say next. I took a deep breath and continued.
“Beyond my art, I have found connection. With this town, its people-“ I nodded to Zoe and Mrs. Peterson with a smile “-and with the man beside me. You gave me the courage to stop hiding, to embrace life and possibility and joy.” I let out a small laugh. “I suppose all great art requires sacrifice. Mine was the letting go of fear, in exchange for hope.”
The room had fallen silent, fading away until I saw Dylan through misty eyes.
“My art will always be a work in progress. But today represents the end of one chapter, and the beginning of a new one.” I raised my voice with growing conviction. “A chapter where passion leads the brush, heart guides the hand, and love-“
I looked at Dylan, saying what I should have long ago.
“Love colors every moment, flowing unrestrained onto the canvas of life.”
For a breath, the studio was still, my declaration hanging in the air. Then applause erupted, the cheers and clapping of those who had walked with me on this journey. Marco whistled his approval. Zoe hooted loudly.
I cleared my throat. “Thank you all for coming this evening. Your support and friendship means so much to me. I truly hope that I won’t lose that when you hear what I have to say next.”
Dylan raised his eyebrows at me. It was time. I took his hand in mine once more. Friends, family, my community. This was my truth.
Chapter 18
I drew a deep, steadying breath as I stood before the intimate gathering in my art studio. My eyes briefly met Dylan’s, seeing the warmth and encouragement in his gaze. He gave me a subtle, reassuring nod, and I felt a wave of gratitude for his support.
Turning my focus back to the expectant faces in the room, I caught sight of Zoe positioned nearby, her knowing look seeming to say ‘you’ve got this’. Marco Sanchez, the esteemed art critic whose presence had elevated this event, watched me with polite interest.
I saw my mother’s gaze sharpen, her scrutiny both unsettling and motivating me to push forward.
“Many of you know Dylan and I are engaged. What I haven’t told you is how we actually met.” I steadied myself with a breath, acutely aware of Dylan’s unwavering presence beside me.
“My mother’s plan was that after a year, that being the end of this month, I move back to San Francisco. I would leave behind my art, and take a job at the law firm owned by the Bailey family while I was courted by the heir to the company...I panicked. Iknew that life wasn’t meant for me, but my parents also expected it.”
My mother’s lips pursed ever so slightly, but she remained silent.
“So, in a moment of desperation, I asked Dylan, my neighbor, if he would pretend to be my fiancé. I thought that might convince my parents I was happy here in Pebble Point, pursuing my art. It was impulsive and dishonest. And I’m sorry for that deception.”
A murmur rippled through the room. I pushed forward, willing myself to continue.
“I didn’t expect that by spending time together, getting to know each other, Dylan and I would realize that we genuinely care for one another. Somewhere along the way, amidst the pretense, genuine feelings emerged.”
I turned to face Dylan then, no longer afraid to reveal the depth of my affection.
“You’ve helped me find the courage to live authentically as an artist and a woman. I’m deeply grateful to have you by my side.”
Dylan’s eyes crinkled with warmth, and he gave my hand a supportive squeeze. Facing my parents once more, I braced myself for their reaction.
I gasped as Zoe stepped closer, slipping her arm around me in a subtle show of solidarity. Her reassuring presence allowed me to lift my gaze and take in the room’s reaction.
Ethan’s expression held a mix of amusement and affirmation. “I had a hunch something was up with you two,” he said, giving Dylan a knowing look. “But I’m glad it turned into something real.”
