Kane frowns and whispers in my ear. “You want me to get rid of him?”
I chuckle softly. “He’s fine.”
I wanted his whole team here for what I have planned later.
My palms tingle with nerves.
“Nervous?” Kane cups my cheek, and Noah reaches out for me.
“Very.” But not for the reason he thinks.
“You shouldn’t be. But you should be mingling with the people who came here tonight to see your art, and not the ones who came for the free food.” He cocks an eyebrow at Austin, who grins.
I kiss his cheek, then Noah’s. “Thank you.”
“Don’t worry about us. I’ll keep these buffoons out of trouble.”
Smiling, I start to leave, when Blake stops me. “Hey, Brynne.”
“Yeah?”
“Madden’s right. You shouldn’t be nervous.” I know his hidden meaning, and I give him a grateful smile.
“Yeah,” Austin adds, now holding two champagne flutes. “Your art stuff is sick.”
“Thanks. I think.”
He keeps smiling, but his attention has already diverted to a pretty waitress that walks by.
I talk to a few journalists and collectors, answering their questions and trying not to stammer over my words, while conveying the message of each piece displayed. The theme is forgiveness and new beginnings. Each painting focuses on a piece of my own life.
Most people are drawn to the large piece hanging in the center of the room, but I find my father standing alone in front of one of the smaller paintings.
Our relationship, while getting better, is still strained. It’s hard to let go of years of blame and bitterness, but I’m finding my forgiveness. We both are.
He’s become a large part of Noah’s life, and my son loves him. In a way, he has a new start with his grandson. A chance to be there for him, like he wasn’t for Sam and I. It doesn’t rewrite the past, but it, in a way, changes the value of our own relationship.
Forgiveness.
New beginnings.
They aren’t just in the paintings. They’re in this room, living, breathing, evolving. The way life should.
“This one…” My father says when I stand beside him, not taking his eyes off the painting. “This one’s my favorite.”
It’s a simple piece. A young father and his daughter walking along the beach. The little girl looking up at the man like he’s hung the moon and stars. I was that girl once. I painted it in hopes that one day I might be able to find that feeling again.
I know now, that giant of a man, was only that – a man.
“It’s one of mine, too.” I take his hand and I feel him tense.
He glances down at our entwined fingers and lets out a shuddering breath. “Your mother and Sam…they’d be proud of you.”
I smile, hearing the words he can’t say. Stubborn. That’s what Kane always calls me. I see it now in my father’s eyes. The way he struggles with his own emotions. I recognize the way they choke him, strangle him as he fights for control, making him seem hard and dispassionate.
“Thank you.” I lean up and kiss his cheek, then turn when someone calls my name.
“Brynne.” He stops me, swallowing hard and looking down at his glass, before once again meeting my gaze, and I see tears glazing his eyes. “I’m proud of you.”
I suck in my own breath and blink back the stupid tears that burn behind my eyes. “I know, Dad.”
He gives me a hard nod, regaining his composure.
My chest squeezes. And I love you, too.
Forgiveness. Sometimes, it’s a slow process. Sometimes, it happens in a moment. The important thing is that it happens.
From across the room, I catch Sebastian’s gaze and he gives me a thumbs-up.
A shiver of nerves races down my spine at what it signals.
“It’s almost time,” Kiley says, chewing on her bottom lip. “You ready?”
“I think so.”
With a deep breath, I square my shoulders and focus on why I really came here tonight – I love Kane Madden.
Chapter 35
Kane
I’m so fucking proud of her.
Dressed in an elegant, silver gown, holding a champagne flute, Brynne stands in the center of the room surrounded by art critics, journalists, and our friends. People who came here tonight just to see her work.
I’m not really sure why half the hockey team is here, but hell if I’m not glad they are. I love showing her off.
She lets out a small laugh, her eyes shining with pride as she talks about the main piece in the center of the room.
A six by six canvas hangs on a floating wall behind her. At first glance, the painting looks like a young man with his face buried in his hands, but depending on the angle, the image changes, or at least seems to. An old man. A young boy. But what’s fascinating are the emotions that seem to dance off the canvas. It’s not just me. I see the way people react. Fascination. Awe. Wonder.
I have no doubt that she’ll sell all of her pieces.
“Mama,” Noah says in my arms, pointing a chubby finger at Brynne.
“Mama’s busy.” I tickle him and he lets out a hoot of laughter. “You need to be quiet.”
I didn’t think it was a good idea bringing him, but Brynne insisted. And I’ll do anything for her. Even drag a seven-month-old to an art exhibition.
Brynne’s gaze lands on me and her smile broadens, causing my heart to speed up the way it always does when she looks at me like that.
“Hey,” Sebastian slaps me on the back, grinning from ear to ear like the damn Cheshire cat.
“You look like you’re up to trouble,” I mumble, giving him a sidelong glance.
“Is it that obvious?” He reaches out for Noah, who goes to him easily. “Mind if I take him for a few minutes? The kid’s a chick magnet.”
I laugh because Sebastian has never had any issues in the women department, other than that they like him a little too much. Even got himself a stalker for a while.
“Need a new wingman now that you’re taken.” He winks at me.
Blake comes up behind me and slaps me on the back. “You ready?”
“For what?”
He nods and I follow his gaze.
Brynne is standing on the raised platform near the back of the room. A soft spotlight shines down on her, making her gown shimmer. She’s looks radiant, and her eyes sparkle with a mix of excitement and fear as her gaze finds mine.
A soft hum comes from the microphone she’s holding, and it cracks briefly before she speaks into it. “Hello.”
The room quickly quiets, all heads turning in her direction.
“I wanted to say a quick thank you to everyone who came here tonight.” The mic cracks again and I hear her unsteady breath. “This has been a dream come true, and I’m grateful to everyone who helped make it happen.”
A small round of applause goes through the room.
She tugs her bottom lip between her teeth and waits a second before continuing, “Each painting you see here tonight represents a moment in my past that made me who I am today. Some good. Some bad.”
Her gaze focuses on me, and I see the small quiver of her lip.
“But I have one last piece that I want to share with you all tonight. This one is different. Instead of my past, it’s my future. At least, I hope it is…”
Her shoulders rise and fall as she sucks in a deep breath, then turns slightly and pulls the cover off the mounted canvas behind her.
A gasp goes through the room.
It takes me a moment, probably longer than it should, to register the words written on the canvas behind her.
Will you marry me?
All eyes are on me, but it’s only Brynne that I see.
“Well, Madden?” Her voice trembles with the slight hint of fear.
Blake slaps my back, knocking the wind back into me. “Don’t be a chump. Answer the woman.”
Five long strides and I’m across the ro
om, scooping her into my arms, and crushing my lips against hers. I hear the microphone drop, the sharp static sound as it hits the floor, then the cheer from the people around us.
I press my forehead against hers.
“So, that’s a yes?”
I chuckle. “I thought you’d never ask.”
A smile tugs at her lips. “Then how about right now?”
“What?”
Focused on Brynne, I didn’t notice the clergy woman who stepped on the platform with us.
“I don’t want to wait any longer.” Brynne’s palms are on my cheeks. “I want to be your wife. I want to be a family.”
“We’re already a family.” I press my lips to hers. “But being your husband would make me the happiest man alive.”
I kiss her again, and another cheer goes through the room.
The clergy woman clears her throat and says lightly, “Usually, we leave that part until the end of the ceremony.”
We say our vows in front of our family and friends, and all throughout I can’t stop thinking how lucky I am.
“I can’t believe you planned this without me knowing,” I say, when we finally have a second alone.
“It was difficult. You’re always so damn nosy. But Blake and Sebastian helped a lot.”
“I knew they were plotting something.”
She grins. “Sebastian was pretty upset that he wasn’t able to give you a proper bachelor party.”
“I’m sure he was.” I shake my head, wrapping my arms around her waist, drawing her towards me.
“I have another surprise for you.”
“You’re pregnant?” A shiver of hope and excitement races through me.
She groans and slaps my chest. “God, I hope not. At least, not yet. We’re busy enough as it is with Noah. I’d like a little time to just be us.”
I nuzzle her ear. “I agree. But it wouldn’t be that bad.”
“No. It wouldn’t be. But I just booked us a week in Bora Bora, and morning sickness would kind of put a damper on it.”
“A honeymoon?” I quirk an eyebrow.
“Sophie and Matt are going to watch Noah. So it’s just you and me-”
I kiss her hard. “Have I told you how much I love you?”
She chuckles against my lips. “A few times. But I wouldn’t mind hearing it again.”
“I love you, Mrs. Madden.”
Her eyes twinkle. “I like the sound of that.”
“So do I.” Nothing ever sounded better.
About the Author
Amazon bestselling author C.M. Seabrook writes hot, steamy romances with possessive bad boys, and the passionate, fiery women who love them.
Swoonworthy romances from the heart!
When she isn't reading or writing sexy stories, she's most likely spending time with her family, cooking, singing, or racing between soccer, hockey and karate practices. She's living her own happily ever after with her husband of fifteen years and their two daughters.
For more information:
www.cmseabrook.com
[email protected]
Also by C.M. Seabrook
Men with Wood Series
Second Draft
Second Shot
Fighting Blind Series (MMA Romance)
Theo
Moody
Irish Rockstar Series
Wild Irish
Tempting Irish
Standalone
Melting Steel
Second Shot: A Men With Wood Novel Page 18