“Baby, what is it?” His fingertips moved under my jaw, and he lifted my gaze.
“It’s stupid…”
His eyes narrowed. “Nothing you say is stupid. Tell me.”
“Well…there was this guy who came in today. He was an ass, said our wine wasn’t very good. Then he stared at my paintings and said…not very nice things. Said I sucked…like my family’s wine. I know I shouldn’t let it bother me because his opinion doesn’t matter…but it hurt.”
His eyes softened. Instead of telling me to buck up like he normally would, he gave me sympathy. His fingertips moved across my cheek. “Your paintings represent your soul. If anyone insults them, it’s like insulting your feelings, emotions, beliefs…it’s not stupid that it hurt you.”
I turned my face into his palm, treasuring the warmth and strength.
“But he’s wrong, baby. He doesn’t possess your creativity, your beauty. And if it doesn’t exist inside him, then he can’t spot it when he sees it. His opinion is invalid. Your artwork speaks to people. I don’t know shit about art, but it’s made me feel so many things. You painted me, all of me, down to my very soul. How many people could do that?”
I watched his gaze, seeing the sincerity in his pretty eyes.
“You have a gift, baby. Soon, you’re going to have your own gallery. And one day, people are going to be auctioning off your work for millions. When you’re dead and gone, generations into the past, people will treasure your work because it captured the beauty of your life. It’ll make you immortal.” He cupped both of my cheeks, turning my face up a little more to look at me. “Don’t listen to him.”
I gave a slight nod, feeling better.
He wiped away my tears with the pads of his thumbs. “No man deserves your tears—not even me.”
My hands gripped his wrists, feeling the strength transfer from him to me. “Thank you…”
He moved his lips to my forehead and gave me a long kiss, his warm mouth resting there for a while. “You’re the most amazing woman I’ve ever known. You shine like the sun. Don’t ever let anyone take away your light. A real man should never tear down a woman, but lift her up.”
“That’s what you do for me.”
He wrapped his arms around me and lifted me into the air, pulling me against his chest so we were face-to-face. “Yes, I do.”
My arms wrapped around his neck, and I pressed my forehead to his as my legs wrapped around his waist. “I love you.”
He closed his eyes as he held me, our heads pressed together. “I love you too, baby.” He held me that way for a while, letting me cling to him for comfort. Minutes passed before he returned me to the ground. “I should get back to work. I’ve got a lot of stuff to do.”
“They’re really putting you to work, huh?”
“Yep. Who doesn’t love free labor?”
I smiled at him. “Thanks for doing this…I know you have a million other things you should be doing.”
“Yes.” He rested his fingers against my chin and lifted my gaze. “But this is the only thing I want to be doing.” He gave me a soft kiss on the lips before he turned away. He held his wide shoulders with perfect grace as he walked away, his strong physique possessing a strong posture.
I watched him go until he turned the corner.
Then I heard the sound of footsteps again. I turned toward the door to see who it was. I caught a glimpse of my father’s long-sleeved black shirt before it disappeared in the crack of the partially open door. I wondered if he’d been watching that entire exchange. My father wouldn’t eavesdrop on me because he respected me too much.
But when it came to Bones, everything was different.
Five
Conway
I came around to the passenger side and helped Muse out of the car. She was five months along, and now her belly was noticeable no matter what she wore. She’d wanted to get married when she was still slim in a gown, but that didn’t seem possible anymore. She would show no matter what—but I didn’t mind at all.
The doctor said our baby was healthy.
When he said those words at his office, my throat tightened.
My son or daughter would be here in four months, and as Muse got bigger and rounder, the truth became more and more real.
I was going to be a father.
I took her hand and guided her inside my childhood home, the three-story mansion where my parents still spent their time together. Lars greeted us by the door, and then we stepped inside.
“How are you, man?” I hugged Lars. “You look damn good for a hundred.”
Lars smiled, his hands shaking a bit. “Thanks, Mr. Barsetti. The ladies always like an older man.”
I chuckled and patted him on the back.