But I barely notice any of it, immediately taken aback by the artwork on the walls.
“Oh, I know that painting!” I say. “That was at the Statesman!”
I stare around at the other paintings on display, frowning as I realize every one of them is familiar to me. I’m about to remark on it when I see the owner of the gallery, Michael Statesman, walking toward me through the mingling guests.
“Oh my God,” I whisper, as Lucas steps up beside me, his hand smoothing over my waist.
“Hello, Michael,” Lucas says, greeting the gallery owner as if he’s known him forever. “Quite the venue for your pieces.”
Michael nods enthusiastically. “I’m very grateful to you, Mr. Crawford, for putting our little gallery on the map. Hello Amelia.”
I shake his hand. “How do you know my name?”
“Oh, I remember you. One doesn’t forget a lady wandering in off the street in a waitress's uniform and talking about art like a connoisseur.”
I laugh, glancing at Lucas. “Well, I have always loved your gallery. I think you have a unique eye.”
“So Mr. Crawford tells me. I was honored to be able to show your piece.”
I freeze, staring at him, as he steps aside and holds out an arm.
There, front and center in the room, is my self-portrait. The fractured face looks back at me like an alien, entirely unlike the woman I’ve become.
I turn to Michael in amazement. “How did you?—”
“Mr. Crawford asked me to view it for him. I've chosen it for my next exhibit. I can promise you it was objective. He told me nothing of the artist, merely that he admired them. You have talent, Amelia. It’s a wonderful piece.”
He is hailed from the other side of the room by a man and a woman coming through the doors, and he nods to us as he moves away.
I compose myself, turning to Lucas, half furious, half elated.
“I can’t believe you,” I hiss. “Tonight is about meeting your parents!”
He shrugs in that infuriating way of his. “There was an opportunity, and I took it. When I booked this hotel, they were discussing what to have as their next art exhibition. I knew you loved the Statesman, and so I thought I’d stop by. Michael was only too eager to partner with them. It’s great publicity for a small gallery and wonderful for the artists too.”
“Lucas,” I say, gesturing at the portraits around the room. “These people are on a whole other level to me?—”
“They’re not. You just think so because you don’t realize how talented you are.”
I roll my eyes at him. “You’re biased.”
“Well, if he’s biased, so is half the room. I’ve been standing next to your painting for twenty minutes, and everyone loves it.”
I turn, my heart swelling at the sight of my sister in a floor-length midnight blue gown. It matches the long scarf tied around her head, hiding her temporary hair loss. Her skin is glowing, and she looks flushed and healthy.
The LUNA treatment, which has been ongoing for three months, has been tough for all of us, but there’s no denying the impact it’s having. Dr. Monroe is hopeful that she will make a full recovery.
“You’ve been standing by my painting for twenty minutes?” I ask skeptically.
“Yep! Well, you took forever to get here.”
I laugh as she hugs me and does the same to Lucas. He and Annabelle are close now, and she adores him almost as much as I do. Charlie approaches from behind her, handing us both a flute of champagne.
“Come on, Amelia,” he says wearily. “Mom is not going to wait any longer to meet you. She’s been asking if you’ve arrived every ten minutes for the past hour.”
I laugh, even as my nerves return tenfold and Charlie hooks his arm in mine, about to escort me over to his parents. I glance at Lucas fearfully.
“Hold your horses, Charlie,” Lucas says firmly. “That’s my job.”
