Chapter Eighteen
Tera
Xan can't make it. None of the guys can. Mr. and Mrs. Martinez, who I've now begun calling Mom and Papa on a regular basis, and Dr. Mac—Dad will be there. Shea will be there too.
I close my suitcase and look around the room, making sure I'm not forgetting anything. Dad walks in.
"You all set?"
I nod. "I think I have everything."
"If you don't, we can pick it up in LA," he reassures me.
I nod again, my hands twisting. I'm nervous. I'm so nervous. Not about receiving my award and scholarship, but about having so many of my paintings on display. It's like baring my soul to the world and that's scarier than I can remember ever being.
"Relax, Tera. Your work is so beautiful and they know it. They're hanging it in the DiMora Gallery, one of the most prominent galleries in the country. That right there should tell you how much they believe in you and your work. It's time you, my sweet girl, start believing in yourself too," he tells me.
I lean into his arms when he holds them out and welcome his warm embrace.
"I know. I do believe in myself but this is the big time, Dad. This isn't just some school or local event. This is a major showing. I can't help if I'm freaked out. How can I not be?" I explain.
"All right. We'll get through this. First, let's get to the airport and through the flight," Dad says with a groan. He isn't a fan of flying.
"I'll hold your hand on the flight if you hold mine," I offer.
He nods. "I think that's a perfect idea."
* * *
Idon't knowhow to calm my nerves. I press my hand to my stomach like it's going to help. Nothing can help me. Not even the phone call from Xan and the guys I had five minutes ago. Not Dad, Mom, or Papa.
I just have to get through this.
I can do this. I got this far, right? Damn straight.
I blow out a breath. I really wish Xander were here with me. I miss my sweetness. One press of his hand to the small of my back and he anchors me. Just that simply. But he has his work and obligations and I understand. I really do. The guys have worked so hard to get where they are. I would never voice my disappointment to Xander, any of them, for that matter, to add to the guilt I'm sure they're already feeling. I don't expect or want them to feel guilty.
I twist my wedding rings on my finger as I wait for the ceremony to begin.
The DiMora Gallery. This is a dream. I see my parents chatting with Shea's parents across the room. I'm sure Shea's in the area where the sculptures are and I bet she's not nervous at all. She's full of confidence and self-esteem. She has no doubt when it comes to anything—including baring her artwork, her soul, to this ever-growing crowd tonight. I wish I could be like that. Maybe one day I will, but for now, it's all I can do not to puke all over the pristine white floor beneath my feet.
The entire gallery walls are stark white. Some walls are dark, with Goth-type art. Others are more black and white with framed photographs. Then there are the framed colorful photographs. Some of them aren't really in my taste, but others are so inspiring my fingers itch for my paintbrush.
My wall is white but it's filled with colorful abstract and non-abstract art. Some paintings of the ocean on a warm summer's day, families mulling about, enjoying their time together. Couples walking hand-in-hand in their own little world. The lone souls who walk, swim, or sunbathe by themselves. There are also paintings I created from memory or a photograph I'd seen somewhere that inspired me—much the way some of the gallery ones do. The countryside with the tall weeds, wild flowers, an old barn in the backdrop, a sunny day with a blue sky and a few random clouds. One day I'm going to find a place like that, where I can set up my easel or grab my pencils or charcoal and just lose myself.
"Mrs. Mackenzie?"
I turn to the feminine voice. "Yes?"
"I'd like to introduce myself. My name is Angelina Rafferty. I run the gallery for Mr. DiMora."
I shake her offered hand. "It's nice to meet you."
"You as well. It's nice to put a face to the name, or I should say the initials TR. Your work is incredible," she tells me.
I blush. I don't know what to say to that.
"We've already had offers on three of your pieces."
