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Theodore lingered near a cluster of patrons, their heads tilted in collective admiration of a particularly vibrant canvas.
“Remarkable,” a woman cooed. “It’s as if he captured a dream and pinned it to the canvas.”
“I suppose it is,” Theodore agreed quietly.
As conversations hummed around him, each sale felt like a chord struck on a distant piano—resonant, but oddly muted. He watched as another of his creations, a tempest of color and emotion, was claimed by an eager patron. Their excitement was palpable, yet Theodore felt adrift, the reality of his success floating just out of reach.
“Isn’t it something?” a gentleman beside him marveled, gesturing broadly at the exhibition. “To think these pieces were once just thoughts, now they’re treasures.”
“Artists often feel detached from their work once it’s complete,” Theodore mused aloud, his gaze never leaving Nicole as she gracefully navigated the sea of admirers. “The true wonder is how it continues to live, to resonate with souls it has never met.”
Nicole spoke of the art with an intimacy that only he knew stemmed from late-night conversations and shared confidences between artist and muse.
“Are you close with Mr. Thompson?” the gentleman inquired.
“Close enough to know that tonight is as much her triumph as his,” Theodore replied.
“Her?” The gentleman arched an eyebrow, his interest piqued.
“Every artist has a muse,” Theodore said. “Sometimes, she is the unseen hand guiding the brush.”
As the evening wound down, and the number of red stickers grew beneath framed dreams, Theodore’s anticipation swelled. The gallery emptied slowly, the patrons departing with the receipts for their newfound treasures, ensuring that the art would be delivered as soon as the exhibit was over.
He approached Nicole, whose eyes found him in the quiet aftermath. In his hand, the gift he’d brought her.
“Nicole,” he said, “there’s something I’ve been meaning to give you.” Theodore stood before her the painting concealed behind his back.
“Is everything all right?” she asked, her eyes reflecting concern that transitioned into curiosity as she observed the odd angle of his arms.
“More than all right,” he assured her. “I have something for you.”
With a flourish, Theodore revealed the canvas, turning it to face her. The painting captured Nicole in a moment of contemplation, her gaze wistful, the colors interweaving to form a narrative both intimate and profound. It was the piece that had ignited his quest.
“Your talent never ceases to amaze me,” she whispered, awe-struck by the portrait.
His hands found hers, drawing them away from the canvas to rest between his own. “You are more than my muse, Nicole. You are my heart’s compass, guiding me to shores I never knew I longed to explore.”
“Theodore—or should I say, Peter.” Her laugh was soft, a harmonic blend of joy and disbelief. “Why did you keep this from me?”
“I always meant to give it to you. I was just looking for the right time.” His thumb caressed the back of her hand.
“I can’t believe you painted this before you ever even saw me,” she said.
“I never would have come looking for you if you hadn’t kept emerging from my paintbrush,” he said, gathering her close. “I honestly knew that the woman in my paintings was destined to be part of my life. The best part of my life.”
“I’m so glad you found me.” She wrapped her arms around him and just stood in his embrace, enjoying the feeling of him against her. “Are you ready to meet my parents tomorrow?”
“I’ve never had more than one or two outings with the same woman, which is why the people think of me as the party prince. Meeting your parents will be a whole new experience for me.” He was nervous, but he didn’t want to come right out and say it. What if they didn’t like him?
“My parents will love you,” she said softly, understanding his concern.
“I sure hope so,” he said as he leaned down and kissed her softly.
As they parted, her eyes held the embers of their shared ardor. “Remember, seven in the morning,” she reminded him. “We have to drive out to the country to eat with my parents.”
“Seven it shall be,” he affirmed, grinning at her. He knew the meal would be very different than what he was used to. There would be no fancy food, no servants, and certainly not a bit of opulence. He looked forward to it, even as he was nervous about it.
She smiled at him. “It’s going to be wonderful.”
