But I’m only half-present, my eyes constantly flicking to the door.
When she walks in, everything else fades.
Snow is wearing a deep blue dress the color of twilight, her hair swept up, and she’s carrying a bottle of champagne wrapped in a bow. But it’s her smile that stops my heart — proud and radiant and full of so much love it makes my chest tight.
I cross the room to her, unable to stay away, and she sets down the champagne to throw her arms around my neck.
“It’s perfect,” she whispers. “Wyatt, it’s absolutely perfect.”
“Couldn’t have done it without you,” I tell her, and I mean it in every possible way.
“Partners,” she says, echoing what we always say to each other.
“Partners,” I agree.
Nico appears next to us, mascara already threatening to run. “Okay, I promised myself I wouldn’t cry until the speech, but Ford, this is incredible. You really did it.”
“We really did it,” I correct, squeezing Snow’s hand.
The next hour is a blur of introductions and congratulations. I watch Snow charm art collectors, explaining the artistic vision behind each photograph with an insight that makes me fall inlove with her all over again. I see my mama and Rain laughing like old friends. I see Derek pointing out the display walls he helped build, and Annette rolling her eyes affectionately. I see Jade posing next to photos and Clara shouting encouragement.
This is my life now. Not performing for cameras, not pretending to be characters I’m not. Just being myself, surrounded by people who love the real me.
Eventually, Derek taps a glass with a spoon, and the room quiets.
“Our host has a few words to say,” he announces, his voice full of pride.
My stomach does a nervous flip. This is it.
I make my way to the small raised platform in the center of the gallery. Everyone is watching — my parents, Snow’s parents, my friends, our community. But my eyes find Snow, standing near the back with Nico, and she gives me an encouraging nod.
“Thank you all for being here tonight,” I begin. My voice is steadier than I expected. “A year ago, this was just a dream. A vague idea of what I wanted my life to look like. And now it’s real. This gallery is real. My life as a photographer is real.”
I pause, looking around at the photographs on the walls. “As many of you know, for years I made a living pretending to be people I wasn’t. Playing characters. Heroes. Selling fantasies. And there’s nothing wrong with fantasy — but I was losing myself in it. I forgot what it felt like to be real.”
My gaze finds Snow again, and I see her eyes already shining with tears.
“Someone once told me that the most beautiful stories are the real ones,” I continue. “That being true to yourself matters more than perfection. That choosing yourself — your real self — is the bravest thing you can do.”
The room is completely silent now.
“Snow Holloway taught me that. She didn’t just teach me — she showed me. She walked away from a life that looked perfect on the outside but was slowly killing her on the inside. She rebuilt based on one simple principle: be real.”
I see her hand fly to her mouth, tears spilling over.
“And she helped me do the same. When I told her I wanted to leave modeling and open a gallery, she didn’t tell me I was crazy. She didn’t tell me to play it safe. She pulled out a notebook and started making a business plan. She believed in me.”
My voice catches, and I have to take a breath.
“This gallery exists because of her. Not just because she helped me build it — though she did. But because she loved me enough to help me become the person I always wanted to be. She didn’t try to change me or fix me or make me into someone else. She just… saw me. The man behind the cover. And she loved what she saw.”
I can see our parents holding hands now — my mama and Snow’s mom are both crying, my dad has his arm around River’s shoulders. Nico is openly sobbing.
“Snow, would you come up here?”
There’s a collective intake of breath. I see the surprise flash across her face, see her look to Nico, who gives her a little push forward.
The crowd parts, and she walks toward me, her eyes locked on mine. She’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.
