I let myself belong.
And as the evening stretched out, the storm still rumbling somewhere far off, I stood in the middle of it all and thought: let them come.
I’m ready.
It was Aspen who started the clinking. From there, it rippled through the room as glasses of champagne were passed around. The quick hush of the crowd signaled that they were ready for the show. Someone dimmed the lights just a touch, and the faces around me turned toward the far end of the gallery. For a second, I considered ducking into the bathroom, just to kill time until someone else started the toasts, but Gunner’s hand slipped around my waist and pinned me in place.
“You’ve got this.” His steady confidence lifted me up.
I squared my shoulders, stepped into the little pool of light, and watched as the crowd stilled, all those sharp, hungry, hopeful eyes tracking my every move.
I’d written my speech three times and torn it up twice. Now, holding the champagne flute, my hands shook so badly the bubbles spilled over the rim.
“Hi,” I said, a little too loud.
The laughter that followed made it easier, and I let the next breath out slow. “Thank you for coming. Seriously, I didn’t think even half this many people would show up, and if I’d known I’d have made Aspen bake twice as many cakes.”
A soft murmur of approval rippled from the bakery contingent.
“There are a lot of people I want to thank, and I’ll keep it quick because I hate speeches almost as much as I hate attention, which is ironic considering I’m standing up here with every single person I know staring at me. So, uh, first—thank you, Inez Chavez, for choosing Wildbrush Gallery for your first ever exhibition. I’m so proud that I’ll be able to say, ‘I knew her when…’. I’m honored and thankful you allowed me to hang my work alongside yours. When I first saw your work and learned my gallery had the opportunity to host your first show, I couldn’t believe how very lucky I’d gotten. So, thank you.”
Inez raised her glass, eyes glassy.
“Harper, for being the best big sister and role model I could ever have. If you hadn’t believed in me—even when I didn’t—I wouldn’t be here. And thank you for not kicking my ass when I stole your boots in high school. And your sweaters, and earrings…” I trailed off. The crowd laughed, and Harper dabbed at her eyes.
“My mom.” I looked at Nanette; her face lit up with a pride that made my chest ache. “You pushed me to be better every day, even when I didn’t want to hear it. You showed me what real grace looks like, even in the most difficult situations, and tonight I hope I made you proud.”
Nanette’s hand covered her mouth, but her tears had already escaped.
“Juliet and Bronc, for making me feel like a part of this family from the day I set foot in Dairyville. Your support, your faith… I never thought I’d find that feeling of family. You proved me wrong. Thank you.”
Bronc nodded, face stern but eyes soft. Juliet had one hand on her very large belly as she gave me a reassuring smile that said, “You’ve got this.”
“Gunner—Finn. For being my biggest fan, my anchor, and for loving me even when I’m insufferable. There’s no one I’d rather share a life, or disasters, with.” I glanced back at him, and the way he looked at me nearly broke my composure.
“And finally, Lysander Hale. I never imagined a stranger from Boston would bring me the chance to host a successful gallery exhibition andopening, much less show my own work. You believed in me, in my art, even when I didn’t see the point. Thank you for putting Wildbrush on the map.”
He bowed his head with a little flourish, grinning.
“And thank you, Dairyville. For showing up. For giving me a home.” I raised my glass. “To everyone here. To the weirdos, the dreamers, the people who think maybe—just maybe—they can make something out of nothing. Tonight is for us.”
The room erupted.
There were howls, claps, a dozen voices cheering in unison, and for a second, the air shimmered with something beyond sound, something physical and bright that landed right in the hollow of my chest and stayed there.
Harper ran up and hugged me, nearly knocking me off my shoes. Nanette followed, and it was a rare and glorious moment when my mother’s arms wrapped around me and she whispered, “You are perfect, Annabelle Brie. Always have been.”
Even Juliet, radiant and round as a moon, waddled over and kissed my cheek. “You were always Iron Valor, darling. You just needed to see it.” Bronc’s handshake was brief but crushing, his grin wide and proud.
When I turned, Finn was waiting. He kissed my forehead, held me for a heartbeat longer than anyone else. “That’s my girl.” His pride radiated from him, fierce and unbreakable.
The crowd settled as Lysander drifted into the light, glass in hand. He didn’t raise it until the room was fully silent.
“When I first reached out to Wildbrush Gallery, I expected to find potential,” he began, his voice floating just above the hush. “I did not expect to find brilliance.” He swept his gaze over the crowd, but landed on me. “Brie Lawson is… luminous. Not simply as an artist, but as a soul. She reminded mewhyart matters. Whyconnectionmatters. Why beauty—inall its forms—deserves a home. Tonight, I gained not just a client… but a friend I hope to keep for life.”
There was a sigh, a collective melting in the room. Nanette glowed, Harper wiped her eyes again, and even Gunner, stiff at the edge of the light, couldn’t stop a grudging smile.
“Raise your glasses, to Brie Lawson, and to the Wildbrush. May it never be tamed.”
