Epilogue

EPILOGUE

Lola – 1 year later

“It’s really busy. What a turn out.” Smiling, I’m so happy for Jordan at how successfully his second exhibition has been received.

My husband is awesome.

Not long after Blossom was born, Tamara threw us the most extravagant wedding in the grounds of their family estate. Marquees with chandeliers, fireworks, you name it, she went above and beyond. Surrounded by our family and friends, we exchanged vows before dancing the night away in a whirlwind of epic celebrations.

I loved it even more because Blossom was there too.

“We’ve sold eight paintings already,” Piper whispers between us as she sweeps by and keeps walking, looking incredibly happy about that.

“Eight?” I say, looking up at my talented husband. “Isn’t your daddy super clever?” I bounce Blossom up and down on my hip, making her giggle as she plays with the ends of my hair.

A year old now, she’s as cute as a button, all blonde hair and brown eyes, just like the two of us. I’m praying she inherits her daddy’s height and not mine.

“I think that one is my favorite.” I use my chin to gesture at the painting of me at eight months pregnant.

When Jordy told me his second exhibition was called Edmonton in Bloom, I thought it was a follow up from his winter cityscapes collection, which sold out on launch night. How wrong was I? Because every painting and intricate sketch on display tonight is of me.

Not that you can tell, but at the same time you can.

There are paintings of my eyes.

Some just of my mouth. Smiling. Laughing.

There’s one of me standing looking out over the city from the window of his penthouse, which he must have painted not long after our first New Year’s Eve together because it looks like the night I told him I had developed feelings for him, and unbeknownst to me, was already pregnant.

There are paintings of me sleeping. Some of me cradling my belly in my hands, and some of me from the back with Blossom’s head peeking out over the top of my shoulder.

Abstract lines, in gentle pastel tones, with flecks of gold, which is Jordy’s signature style. They span the entirety of our time together, from almost the first time we hooked up to now.

Seeing myself through his eyes made me realize just how much he loves me. Being the source of his creativity is the ultimate gift and makes me feel more connected to him.

We were meant to be together.

Made for one another, which I think I knew from the first night I spent with him.

He sees me in a different light, sees me for who I am, and loves me in all the best possible ways. Unconditionally.

Jordy lifts Blossom out of my arms, and she snuggles into his shoulder. She’s such a daddy’s girl, which is because Jordy never has her out of his arms and loves chasing her around the house. Anything to make our darling petal giggle, which he never stops doing.

Threading his fingers in mine, we stand together in front of the painting in silence.

“You’re my muse,” he says.

“I had better not leave you then.” Not that I would. He’s stuck with me for life.

“I know that’s never going to happen. You love the way I do that thing with my tongue too much.” Straight-faced, he stares ahead while I turn the color of a tomato.

“Shhh. Not in front of the children,” I scold.

“Child.” He kisses the top of Blossom’s wispy blonde head of hair, thinking he’s corrected me.

“Children.” I place my hand over my belly.

His mouth makes an O shape before he looks down at me and smiles. “We’re going to have enough kids to start a football team, aren’t we?”

“Nope.” I correct him. “A hockey team.”