Chapter Eighteen

January 2015

Mandy had been to a number of art shows, starting with the one she dragged her mother to when she was just thirteen. That had been at a gallery twice the size of Beyond the White Wall, where the artist was already a household name, so the pieces cost as much as a Los Angeles condo—even more. It was no surprise Mom didn't buy the painting Mandy had loved at that event, although at the time Mandy was extremely disappointed.

Tonight, Mandy's art wasn't priced that high, but the turnout was just as overwhelming, as were the number of Sold signs popping up on each of her pieces. And now with Isa there, Mandy thought she might've been dreaming, or the champagne was doing funny things to her, but the hint of coconut in the air from Isa's shampoo grounded Mandy in how real this moment was.

Isa had bought Mandy's painting. And from the markup Aziz put on all the pieces, it wasn't cheap. Thank you didn't seem like the right words, so Mandy had said nothing at all and walked off, opening an empty space in her chest Isa filled for a brief moment. But Mandy couldn't risk it.

This situation wasn't as unfamiliar as Mandy wished it could've been. She had been here before with Isa, and, well, Mandy was hoping things could be different—better this time. She did not want to mess things up again. She'd done that enough already—over and over.

Mandy kept an eye on Isa as she was pulled this way and that to schmooze and rub elbows with just the right people. Maybe there was still a chance she could make things right with Isa—she hadn't left yet after all.

"Oh, honey." Mom spun Mandy into a tight hug just as she had finally gotten a moment of calm. "I'm so proud of you."

Mandy squeezed back.

"It's quite the turnout," Dad agreed, and took his opportunity to get a hug when Mom finally let Mandy go.

"Thanks for coming," Mandy told them. It meant the world to Mandy that her parents were there. They had always been so supportive of her—allowed her time to explore, and learn, and grow, and tonight they finally got to see it wasn't a waste of time (or money). Not that either of them said that or made Mandy feel that way. She had just heard so many stories, seen too many "disappointed" parents over the years of pursuing her own passion.

"Like we would miss it." Dad squeezed Mandy's shoulder. Dad had recently grown his beard out, and if he didn't already look it before, he looked twice as intimidating with the copious amount of facial hair, but to Mandy he was a big old teddy bear.

Mom and Dad had both dressed for the occasion—even a little overdressed, from an artist's standpoint. Dad in his black suit and red power tie. Mom was donning a new black dress with a red belt that matched Dad's tie perfectly. It was like her mother had googled "what to wear to a gallery opening" but then ignored the results and gone along with what matched her extremely particular fashion ideas of what should be worn. Mandy was so lucky. Parents weren't supposed to be so supportive or so adorable, and yet they were. Still in love with each other so much they dressed alike after thirty-five years of marriage. Mandy could only dream of finding a love as strong as theirs one day.

"Speaking of not missing things, I haven't seen Edmund. We didn't miss him, did we?" Mom didn't hide the disdain in her voice. Edmund had not been a particular favorite of her mother's, but Mandy was sure he'd grow on her in time. If Edmund were a painting, he'd be an abstract one—one that you had to study, and learn, and try to get to know intimately before you could really make an assessment about it. He wasn't an open book, or "warm" in the traditional sense. But he loved Mandy, she knew that; he supported her even if he truly didn't understand her, and even if he had meetings, Edmund always made the time to show up for Mandy if she asked him to. He wasn't perfect but neither was she, so they were imperfectly perfect together—or at least that was what Mandy liked to think.

"I'm sure he'll be here soon," Mandy reasoned. "Probably just caught up in a meeting." Edmund was routinely caught up with something work-related that had him showing up late or changing plans at the last minute, but that's why Mandy was good for him. He was all business and schedules, and Mandy was much more go-with-the-flow. Opposites were supposed to attract, right?

"Hmm…" Mom said. "I did see Isa though. She looks amazing."

"Sounds like residency is going well for her too," Dad chimed in.

"Yeah." Mandy didn't know what else to say. If it were just her and them, she would've let it spill that she hadn't spoken to Isa yet. But it wasn't, and Mandy couldn't be seen crying at her own opening.

"Obstetrics is a good specialty," Dad continued. He had always been so proud of Isa, as if she were his own daughter—Mom and Dad both, really.

Mandy was proud too. Maybe she should get over herself and just go talk to her.

"Oh, I didn't tell you," Mom said. "I talked to Janice at the gym, and I think I've finally got it right." Janice was one of Mom's new friends that got her into baking—or attempting to bake. Mom had been on a bread kick, trying to make her own sourdough. It seemed so much easier to just buy it at the store.

"Yes. It's crispy on the outside, and the middle is nice and spongy," Dad chimed in.

"You really think?" Mom blushed.

"I told you I could've eaten the whole loaf." Dad chuckled.

"I thought you were just being nice," Mom said.

Was bread supposed to be spongy? That didn't seem like the most flattering word to Mandy, but she'd never really thought about bread that much. She just enjoyed eating it. "That's awesome, Mom."

"The next time you come to paint, I'll make sure to bake a fresh loaf." Mom beamed.

Even though Mandy didn't live with them anymore, she still used the space in the back of the garage for her art. One day she would have a real studio, but for now it worked just fine.

"I was thinking of dropping some off to Sandy and Abuela," Mom said. "Maybe you could help me with that?" Mom was trying to be encouraging—she knew everything there was to know about what happened with Isa, but Mandy wasn't sure she was ready to face Isa, Isa's mom, and Abuela at the same time. Mandy really needed to suck it up and just go talk to her now. As she was about to excuse herself from her parents, someone came up behind her.

"For the lady of the hour." Edmund thrust a large bouquet of red roses at Mandy and pressed his lips to hers. A rush flooded through her like it did every time she was with him. He was the kind of guy Mandy never thought would be into her. Smart, handsome—someone who commanded attention. She had felt so lucky that he had chosen to be with her. Yes, he was late. And yes, he brought her flowers that she could absolutely not carry around all night, but it was the thought that counted. He took the time to stop and get them for her—or had his assistant do it—but either way, Edmund liked to make a show of how much he cared. Sometimes it was too much, and other times it made Mandy feel important. She wasn't sure how she felt about it tonight. There were too many emotions swirling through her gut.

"They're lovely," Mom replied on Mandy's behalf, as though she knew Mandy was struggling with finding all the right words, and took the bouquet from him. "I'll keep these safe for you until later."

"Thanks, Mom, and yes, they are lovely, thank you." Mandy leaned into Edmund, the scent of his cologne subtle but still there from when he applied it that morning. It was a tad too peppery for Mandy's taste, but she wasn't the one wearing it all day, so she didn't complain. Pick your battles. And when it came to love, Mandy always chose love.

Edmund took a moment to survey the room. It was still quite bustling, considering the hour. A couple stood in front of one of the paintings that hadn't been sold, peering around as though looking for Aziz, but he was nowhere to be seen. Mandy didn't like the thought of losing a sale because he took a bathroom break. She'd had to pee for the last hour, and you didn't see her running off to the ladies' room. No. She was going to tough it out.

"I should probably—" Mandy gestured, but Edmund stopped her.

"Before you go, there's something I wanted to ask you."

Just then the lights dimmed except the one Edmund was standing under, and the rumble of idle chatter faded. Performative art was a thing some artists did during their shows, but Mandy wasn't one of them. Sometimes she didn't like people knowing she was even the artist at all. What the hell was going on? Music started playing, a song Mandy recognized from Edmund's favorite album.

"Amanda Dean…" It was at this moment Mandy realized Edmund had been speaking to her, and now he was on one knee, a little black box in his hand. "Will you marry me?"

Mandy glanced up. The crowd of people all stared at her. Mom and Dad stared at her. Isa was staring at her. Weren't there supposed to be conversations that took place before…well…this? What is happening?

"She's speechless," someone in the crowd said.

"Aww…isn't that sweet," said another.

Mandy wasn't sure sweet was the word she'd use, but she plastered on a smile. Why was her heart beating so fast? Wasn't this what she had always wanted? What was wrong with her? Was it the stress of the show?

"Make me the happiest man in the world…" Edmund leaned forward. His light brown eyes were wider than Mandy had ever seen them before.

Fuck. Shit. Fuck. What was she supposed to do? She couldn't even think. How could he put her on the spot like this? On this night? In front of all these people? Mandy didn't know what to do. She could picture the headlines— Artist Shuns Lover at Opening . Or would they think it was a stunt? Artist Arranges Proposal to Sell Paintings—Pathetic. What would the critics say? She would be eaten alive. That's all they'd talk about. Not her work that she poured her heart and soul into but how she crushed some guy's heart in front of a crowd. Her career in the art world would be over before it ever had a chance to start.

She took a moment and gazed at Edmund. He was a good guy. They might've fought sometimes, and they didn't always agree on everything, and sometimes he didn't think things through all the way—like tonight—but his smile was sincere, and he just looked so…so…vulnerable.

"Yes," she choked out. "Yes, I'll marry you."