by Alex Kidwell
“There’s veal?” I worried.
“It’s a joke, babe.” Brady kissed the bridge of my nose. “Take a deep breath.” He waited patiently while I did so, his hand rubbing my back as I slowly let it out again. “Good. Okay? This is going to be fine. There’s wine and food and pretentious people all ready to talk about how brilliant you are.”
I wrinkled my nose at him, but some of that tight panic was easing out of me. Brady was good at that. “I’m glad you’re here.” I leaned against him with a quiet sigh. “I’m not good in front of groups.”
“I’ll be right in the back where you can see me,” he promised, lips brushing against my ear. “If you get nervous, just look at me. Pretend like you’re only talking to me.”
I nodded, tipping my head up to catch his lips in a slow kiss. “I like talking to you,” I murmured, feeling him start to smile.
“I know.” He nipped playfully at my lower lip. “I’m very charming.”
“It’s true. Will my charming, very handsome boyfriend be coming by tonight?” I wrapped my arms around his waist, liking how Brady would shift closer when I did so. “And you do, by the way. Look absolutely handsome tonight. Kind of unfairly gorgeous.”
“Thank you.” He grinned. “You look rather amazing yourself.” We kissed again, soft and sweet, and the butterflies in my stomach beat for a different reason altogether. “I’m going to the hospital tonight to sit with Bea, though. I might be late.”
“So be late,” I shrugged. “Or I could go with you?”
The smile he gave me was brilliant; it crinkled the corners of his eyes and lightened up his face, sending a warm ache all through my chest. “Yeah,” he agreed, lacing our fingers together. “If you want to.”
“So long as I’m not being a nuisance.” Our foreheads bumped together and Brady huffed out a quiet laugh.
“You, Mr. O’Malley, will never be a nuisance.” He teasingly tugged on my tie. “She’s getting released day after tomorrow. I had to convince Mom and Dad not to drive back out here as soon as they heard.”
“I’m still kind of amazed they left at all,” I admitted.
“Well, I promised to watch out for her.” Brady shrugged. “And Dad had some jobs to finish. I don’t think they’d ever have walked out of the hospital, much less gone home, if I wasn’t here.”
“We’ll go see her tonight.” I liked Beatrice. We’d had an epic Scrabble game the other night, and I had to go back and try and earn back my dominance. “When are you going to drive her home?”
“Day after Thanksgiving.” He grinned. “She’s excited about spending the holiday with us. I think she’s under the impression I’m actually going to let her make the stuffing.”
“This is a Banner thing, isn’t it?” I guessed. I was right, judging by Brady’s sheepish look.
“The stuffing is very important,” he informed me wisely, and I nodded, somber, trying to keep the teasing gleam out of my eyes.
“Good thing my entire contribution will be the wine. I wouldn’t want to get in the middle of that competition.”
A quiet knock at the door interrupted us. “Everyone decent in here?” It was Conner in his waiting suit, empty tray tucked under his arm. Giving me a smile, he turned to Brady, voice lowering to a hush. “We’ve got a slight”—he saw Brady’s eyebrows wing up and emphasized again—“slight ricotta ball crisis. It seems our oil is not getting to temperature and frying them results in, well. Mush.”
Eyes closing briefly, Brady sighed. “Mush,” he repeated. “Fantastic.”
Oh, Christ. People were out there eating mush. They were going to eat mush and then they were going to hate me before I even showed my pieces. “I don’t even know what ricotta balls are,” I told Brady, panicked again.
“Hey.” His hands cupped mine and he smiled at me, calm. Everyone else was so calm. “It’s okay, babe. I’ve got this. Everything is perfect. You are perfect.”
I filled my lungs with slow, deep breaths over and over, and nodded. “I’m glad you’re here,” I told him again earnestly.
“I wouldn’t be anywhere else.” Brady tucked a strand of my hair back and rubbed his thumb across my cheek. “Alright. I’m going to go make sure everyone’s eating and happy. Do you want some wine or something?”
“I can grab a glass,” Conner volunteered, but I shook my head.
“No. No, I’m fine. Thanks.” Kissing Brady softly, I repeated, “I’m fine. Go, be awesome. I’ll see you when it’s over?”
“Definitely. Remember, I’m going to be in the back, watching you be amazing.”
They both left me alone. Pacing the room again, I closed my eyes, muttering to myself. I knew what I wanted to say. How I needed to present my work to the crowd. It was just so much harder to do with everyone staring at me. I’d never been good in front of people. Knowing they were all shortly going to be judging my art only made it harder.
I could hear the murmur of voices growing louder. I was expecting twenty people at most; really, I hadn’t done anything in two years, and I hadn’t exactly been Ansel Adams before that. Anna was good at her job, but even she couldn’t promote me that well. It was a week until Thanksgiving, people already in holiday mode. There was a reason she hadn’t found anyone else to showcase these two weeks. But even twenty people were more than I thought I might be ready for. Hell, no one but Annabeth had seen the work yet.
God, I was going to make myself sick.
“Hey.” It was Anna, poking her head around the door. “Come on, Van Gogh. Time to introduce your art.”
“I don’t think I want to be the guy who cut off his ear,” I protested faintly, fingers flying up to nervously smooth my tie.
“But he did such beautiful work. And who really needs an ear?” Annabeth was teasing me, taking my hand and drawing me in for a tight hug. She smelled like oranges and lavender, her dark hair up in a loose bun. I took a deep breath and tried to relax, resting my chin against her shoulder.
“I wish Aaron was here,” I admitted, very quietly. It felt wrong, to want that. Wrong for Aaron, wrong for Brady, to want both of them, to have one on either side of me. Aaron had been my rock for so long, and now Brady was so steady and sure and wonderful. God, how fucked up was I to want Aaron here when I had Brady?
But Anna just smiled at me, a little sad, fussing with my hair. Long, cool fingers smoothed across my forehead. “I think you’re always going to want him here, especially at things like this,” she mused softly. “Remember my first exhibit here?”
Breathing out a quick, stuttered laugh, I nodded. “You were too nervous to pronounce that artist’s name right. So Aaron just started clapping really loudly and drowned you out and everyone thought your speech was over.”
Annabeth grinned at me. “He was a force of nature. I loved having him come to these things because even if it went horribly or no one liked the art, he’d always make me smile.”
“He was one of a kind,” I agreed. We smiled at one another, and I missed him again. I missed him so much it hurt to breathe in, it hurt to keep myself from crying. But then Anna cupped my cheek, bringing me close to nudge her forehead against mine.
“And he’s always going to be here. You remember him. I remember him. Trace remembers him. That’s how we live forever. In the stories and the memories we leave behind. We love him, Quinn, and that means something.”
Nodding, scrubbing at my eyes, I blew out a shaky sigh. “Is it totally after-school-special of me to just want him to be proud?”
Anna clucked her tongue at me, hauling me back in for another hug. She gave really good ones where she just held on tight and you felt like, really, everything was going to be fine. “He is, hon. I know he is. He loved you so much.”
He had. God, he had, and that was something I knew for sure.
“And Brady’s here,” Anna told me, rubbing her hand up and down my back. “He’s crazy about you.”
“I think I love him,” I mumbled to her. “Well. No, I know I do. He’s just…. He�
�s a really good guy, Anna. He’s smart and funny and so sweet, and he’s kind and….”
“And hot,” she added, lips quirking upward.
“So hot,” I agreed. We were smiling again, and I’d scrubbed away my tears. She leaned up to brush a kiss across my cheek.
“So both of them are here,” she said simply, lifting one shoulder in a shrug.
Maybe they were. Maybe that wasn’t as weird as it sounded. Sure as hell comforted me.
“I love you, Anna,” I told her, hugging her tight.
She smiled, lightly bopped the back of my head with one hand. “Love you, too, you big teddy bear. Now come on. Let’s go get this show on the road.”
Hand in hand we walked out into the main room. I’d come in the back that evening because Annabeth had this weird thing about artists not touching her displays. And, I’d admit it, I was kind of a perfectionist. I probably would have spent an hour rearranging everything only to have it back the way it started and then obsessed the rest of the time over half an inch one way or another. I’d been expecting the typical white room Annabeth had her studio as, with black trim over the doors and windows and a pristine light wood floor. It was an empty canvas, she’d explained to me, and since I’d shown art a few times here, I knew I appreciated the fact that the room didn’t detract from my pieces.
Then again, in expecting nothing to be different, I’d apparently forgotten who my boyfriend was.
Everything was bathed in a beautiful golden glow, like the sun was just rising. Waiters moved with trays among the crowd, serving all circular food and sunny champagne. Light flecks of blue were the accent color, just subtle enough that it all melded together into this gorgeous backdrop. I knew without even unveiling my first piece the room was perfect.
“Goddamn, he’s good,” I breathed, wide-eyed.
“Yes, yes he is.” Anna looked very self-satisfied. And she should be—the room was packed. There had to be at least fifty people milling around.
“Holy crap, how did you do this?” Looking around, I felt that jump of nerves in my gut again. “Where did all these people come from?”
“A magician never reveals her tricks.” She smirked, squeezing my hand. “But I will say, there are a lot of people who are happy to hear you’re back doing shows. Now get up there and tell them what they’re about to see.”
She nudged me forward and I stumbled a bit, managing to walk up to the microphone she’d provided without falling down completely. Clearing my throat, I stood there, awkward and unsure, while conversation around the room died and eyes turned toward me. There were people everywhere, and for a very long moment, I couldn’t think of anything I wanted to say. I couldn’t even breathe.
There was a flash of blond hair at the back of the room and then Brady was right there, in my eye line, smiling at me. That beautiful, brilliant smile that was like the sun coming up, like warmth unfolding. I took a long, deep breath in, and I began to talk.
“Welcome to my show. Uh, my name is Quinn O’Malley, and I’d like to thank you all for being here.” My eyes caught Brady’s and I smiled back softly. “The series I’m about to show you is called In the Chill of Dawn.”
I nodded and Tracy moved to unveil the ten pieces.
“It’s the story of the sun god, who fell from the sky and found a world encased in ice.” One by one, the paintings were revealed. The story flowed from one to another: the golden god tumbling to earth, ice clinging to his wings. The man he discovered, buried deep in the heart of the world, frozen. “And how he burned up the stars just to get to his love.”
By the time the last canvas was revealed, the crowd was murmuring, some moving a bit closer to the piece they were near to examine the details. “It’s the story of love and redemption. I hope you enjoy it. Thank you.”
There was light applause and then the people were released to edge around the room, to study each piece at their leisure. I looked up and found Brady again; his hands pressed over his heart as he smiled at me and I nodded, a soft expression touching my lips. I was whisked away by Annabeth to talk to various people, to smile and nod. The waiters flowed around us again and Conner pressed a glass of champagne into my hand with a wink before he disappeared on his way.
Eventually, I made my way to the back of the room and leaned against the wall, feeling exhausted. There was a press of someone’s shoulder against my own, and I looked over to find Brady there, eyes scanning my face. “You’re incredible,” he told me quietly.
I snorted lightly. “I hate these things.” I tugged at my tie, loosening it. “Honestly, I think I’m just lucky I didn’t fall over or set myself on fire.”
“Is that a danger?” he asked, amused.
“You have no idea.” A tray of food went by and I reached out, stopping the waitress, who I recognized as she turned. It was Gwen and she grinned at my hello, giving me a quick hug.
“Oh my God, hi. This is so great.” She offered me the tray. “Dessert?”
“Is that….” I’d stopped her because I wanted to be sure. “Is that peach pie with no crust?”
“Yeah!” She handed me one. “It’s on a crispy sugar cookie base, and then the pie filling on top. Just supposed to be one sweet, perfect bite. The whipped cream has basil in it, which sounds weird, but it’s delicious.”
It was. I popped it in my mouth and closed my eyes, humming lightly in pleasure. “Holy crap,” I mumbled around the mouthful. “That’s amazing.”
She laughed and moved to another group of people who’d been eyeing the food. I finished chewing, fingertips touched to my lips. “Brady….”
“What?” He was trying to look innocent, but he kept glancing at me hopefully.
“Thank you.” My hand found his and I squeezed it tightly. “This is… I don’t know how you did it, but it’s perfect. And you made me pie with no crust. I’m just….”
“I wanted you to have a good night.” He shrugged, but he looked pleased. “Your work is absolutely incredible.”
We wandered over to each painting, hand in hand. Annabeth was standing with Tracy, Tracy’s arm around her wife’s waist, their heads bent together close as they talked. The room was filled with people who were laughing and chatting and looking at my work, eating Brady’s food, standing in Annabeth’s art gallery. It was my family, in one crystallized moment. It was everything I loved, here, together.
“I’m glad he found him.” Brady was studying one of the paintings, where the sun god was standing above the man frozen in the ice, his wings draped down around him, the air filled with the steam of fire meeting cold. “It must have been terrible, being so numb and frozen for so long.”
He glanced over at me and I nudged my shoulder against his. “I’m glad he did, too,” I murmured.
We stood there, Brady’s fingers laced with mine, and I felt like Aaron would have been proud. Like he was proud, up in the stars, or wherever good souls went to rest. Like the memories we carried with us and the memories I was making new were both, just then, happy.
“I’VE got the turkey!” Arms full of bags, I carefully navigated down the steps of Brady’s apartment. Beatrice was waiting out by the car, making sure no one took off with the sedan loaded with groceries and, in my opinion, a ridiculous number of pans. I had assured Brady that Tracy and Annabeth did have cookware at their place, but he’d just given me a look and handed me a second roasting pan. Just in case, he’d said.
Cooks were kind of adorable, sometimes.
“You know, I could help,” Bea told me, holding open the door as I struggled with the huge bag holding the bird.
“You’re recovering,” I reminded her with a grin. “And Brady would kick both of our asses if you lifted something bigger than a spoon.”
“Not even that.” Brady’s arms were loaded with a huge box full of produce. “I’m going to feed her like a baby bird.”
Beatrice gave him a grossed-out face and he laughed, sticking out his tongue at her and dodging the playful kick she gave his leg. “You’re
disgusting, big brother,” she grumbled, but she was smiling and so was he. They’d had this fight now five or six times. Beatrice insisted that she was much better, Brady seemed to think she was made of glass. And I just tried to stay out of the way; the whole sibling thing was something I was still trying to get used to.
“Okay, is that everything?” There was barely enough room left in the car for us. I stuck my head in the back door, checking through the bags. “Babe, did you remember your little fire gun thingy?”
“The torch.” He was grinning, his hand on the small of my back as he looked in the car with me. “And yes, it’s in with my spoons. I think we’re good.”
“And does Tracy know you’re moving into her house?” I teased.
“Well, I volunteered my place, but apparently my dining room isn’t big enough.” We all piled into the car, Brady making sure we were buckled up before he pulled out into traffic.
“I’m just amazed you didn’t try to bring your stove too,” Beatrice said with a grin.
“What makes you think I didn’t?”
Rolling my eyes at both of them, I shifted the bag of potatoes off my lap and smiled as Brady absently took my hand. This was going to be good. Brady, Beatrice, and I were joining Tracy and Annabeth at their place for Thanksgiving. Brady had tempted me with previews of his menu all week. Apparently he saw the opportunity to create a Thanksgiving dinner for his adopted family as some sort of challenge to see if he could kill us all with a food coma. I, for one, was looking forward to the task of eating my body weight in ridiculously good food.
Tracy and Annabeth greeted us at the door. Between us we managed to haul in all of Brady’s supplies. “You do realize I have pans, right?” an incredulous Tracy asked, holding up two skillets.
“It’s a cook thing,” I told her with a grin, kissing her cheek and bringing the last of the groceries in. “Trust me, it’s cuter if we just think of it as a quirk and let it go.”
