Finn chuckled and turned her toward him, looking dashing and calm in his tux. Her own James Bond. He pushed a finger under her chin, tipping her face up and locking her in his firm gaze. “Stop. This. What you created is beautiful and special and amazing. No one is paying lip service. The money it’s raising is going to charity, and the accolades are anything but.”
She nodded, making herself hear it. “Okay.”
“You’re talented. Accept it, Livvy.” He leaned down and kissed her. “Sleeping with me has clearly freed up your creative genius. Thank God I showed up when I did, or the world would be denied your art.”
She snorted. “Oh, it’s the sex, huh?”
He gave her a well, duh look. “Obviously.”
She shoved his shoulder, and he caught her hand. He brought it to his mouth and kissed her knuckles.
Warmth tracked up her arm and filled her chest. And other places. Finn looked damn good on her arm. But she tucked that particular urge away for later. She had work to do. “So are you ready to get the personalized tour by the artist herself?”
“Yes, and then I’d like to take a personalized tour of the artist herself,” he said, green eyes sparking with mischief as his gaze traveled over her sleek black dress.
“That can definitely be arranged.” She slid her arms around his waist, her heels giving her just enough height to kiss him without getting on tiptoe. “Do you have to work tonight?”
“Nope,” he said triumphantly. “Took the whole weekend off. Billings is covering for me. It’s been a quiet week anyway.”
Liv smiled. After Finn had backed out of the undercover assignment, Billings had offered him lead on the operation. Instead of being on the ground and infiltrating the organization, he was the main contact for Jason Murray, his colleague who’d gunned for the undercover job when Finn bowed out. Finn worked from home and the local FBI field office, coordinating the operation, deciphering the information coming in from the field, and developing strategies to keep Jason safe and bring the criminals to justice. He couldn’t give her details on what he was doing, but based on his mood lately, she got the feeling they were making significant progress.
“All right, let’s get this going before I chicken out,” she said, reluctantly sliding from his arms and taking his hand.
Finn let her lead him to the other side of the gym where the bleachers had been removed and temporary white walls had been erected to hold the art pieces. People milled around, stopping in front of each display to look. Liv tried to keep her eyes forward, not wanting to see people’s reactions. Afraid of what she might find.
She’d never attempted mixed media art in any big way like this before. Photography had always been her go-to. But when she’d gathered all the photos she’d taken of the survivors over the last few months, she hadn’t been satisfied. No one shot captured what she was trying to convey about the person and their experience. If she’d learned anything, it was that being a survivor was layered and complicated and painful and beautiful.
Liv had found herself with photos spread around the pool house and no way to tell the story she wanted to tell. But then one day in late summer, Taryn had told her she’d found boxes of old newspapers and magazines in her mother’s storage units—all with stories about Long Acre that her mom had kept. The idea had hit Liv like a punch to the gut.
She’d taken the boxes off Taryn’s hands, and then she’d dug out her old yearbooks. Soon, images had started to come together in pieces. Strips of newspaper stories for someone’s hair. Pieces from the photos she’d taken mixed in with enlarged yearbook photos and splashes of paint. Snippets of follow-up stories, accomplishments, and quotes. The heartbreaks and the triumphs intertwining until they formed a portrait of the person. A riot of colors, printed words, and photographs. Real people. Messy. Layered. Perfect in their imperfection.
But she feared she’d be the only one to find the pieces beautiful. She leaned over to Finn and whispered, “I can’t look. Do people seem to like it?”
“You’re kidding, right?” Finn squeezed her hand and smiled at her, pride on his face. “Baby, look at them. Enjoy your moment.”
Liv swallowed past the constriction in her throat, her heart ready to pound out of her chest, but she forced herself to look as they walked through the crowd.
What she found had her heart picking up speed for a different reason. Emotion. There was emotion on every face. Some faces were somber, others thoughtful. Some held tears. Some had smiles. And instead of the quiet that everyone observed at the memorial outside, people were talking, pointing things out, hugging one another.
Liv’s chest filled and expanded, making everything feel lighter inside her. She’d done it. She’d done what every artist sets out to do every time they lift a camera or put brush to canvas or pen to page. Her work was making people feel something.
Finn wrapped his arm around her. “See? You’ve made something beautiful and important.”
She spotted Taryn sitting on a bench with her mother in front of the piece Liv had done on Taryn. Liv had portrayed Taryn as the strong woman she’d become, but had created her heart out of news clippings and photos of her younger sister. Because that was what drove Taryn. Every day she went to work, researching what made people commit crimes like the Long Acre shooting—all as a tribute to her sister. The piece had been one of the hardest to get through, and the canvas contained some of Liv’s tears as well. But seeing the two of them sitting there made her want to cry again. Taryn’s mom was clutching Taryn’s hand in hers and there were tears, but both women were smiling.
Liv’s voice thickened. “I’m not sure I’m going to get through this without becoming a weeping disaster.”
“Don’t do that. Documentary guy wants a quick interview after to add to the film.”
She groaned. “No more documentaries.”
Finn laughed and lifted her left hand, the engagement ring sparking like fire in the overhead lights. “Oh, I don’t know. We may owe him a few minutes of our time.”
She stared down at the ring and then looked up at the man who’d given it to her. Over a decade ago, she’d walked off this campus with a shattered life. This past summer, she’d walked into this gym alone, afraid, and lost. Tonight, she’d walk out the woman she’d always wanted to be with the man she’d always loved. A smile touched her lips. “Yeah, I think I might owe him my life.”
* * *
Finn waited in the hallway for Liv while she finished the short documentary interview and said goodbye to the people who’d come to the event. He’d loved seeing her art on display after all those months of work she’d put into it, but he’d had to take a break from the crowd. He’d gotten better at being around people again. He’d even managed to make regular visits to his family’s house. But too much socializing still wore him out. Plus, he’d felt the pull of the school. Needed to take this walk.