Chapter 38

MACKENZIE

"A re you ready, Kenz?" Dylan's hand finds my knee in the backseat of Kristen's VW Golf, giving it a light squeeze.

I blow out a breath. "Yeah. I'm fine," I lie.

I may only have one painting on display at the exhibition tonight, but that doesn't mean I'm not nervous about everyone's judgmental stares. Though there's only one person's reaction I'm excited to gage, and he's sitting right next to me.

"I can't wait," Kristen pipes up from the driver's seat.

My sister had been over the moon for me when she learned of my new job opportunity with Grace. She'd practically demanded to meet her right away and when I'd mentioned the exhibition night, she'd jumped at the chance to come with me and pretty much dragged Henley along with her.

I could hardly complain when she'd offered to drive us all into Seabright Cove.

"Will there be food?" Henley asks.

His hopeful tone is only met with laughter from the rest of us.

"Relax, babe," Kristen says. "We'll make sure you're well fed."

We pull into the small carpark behind The Elmwood and make our way out onto the street. My nerves are starting to get the better of me as we approach the front door of the studio. I'm starting to second-guess my artistic talent, whether I've gotten the brush strokes just right. I'd spent hours perfecting the colour palette, but I can't help the little voice that tells me that I could have done it better.

"Welcome!" Grace meets us at the door and ushers us inside the well-lit space. "You must be Mackenzie's sister," she says excitedly.

"It's so nice to meet you," Kristen says, leaning in for a hug. "I'm Kristen and this is Henley."

Henley follows Kristen's lead, reaching down to embrace my grandmother. "Hello, Grace."

"That can only mean…" Grace begins. "You must be the infamous Dylan I've heard so much about."

My cheeks warm as Dylan steps forward, offering Grace a quick hug. I can't help feeling that this is what it must be like to feel embarrassed over a family member meeting your boyfriend.

"I've heard a lot about you too. Pleasure to meet you," Dylan says with a smile.

I'm the last to step into the room. I reach forward and wrap my arms around Grace. "Thanks for having us."

"Thank you , Mackenzie," she replies. "Your work is exquisite." She turns to Dylan. "She's extremely talented, this one."

"I'm well aware," Dylan replies, his gaze falling to mine as his palm finds the small of my back. "She's amazing."

I smile back at him as Kristen and Henley disperse into the room, surveying the artwork that lines the walls and the temporary dividers in the centre of the room.

"We made it!" A shrill voice carries from the entry way, and I look up to see Betty.

She waves from the door, wearing a flamboyant purple dress and a matching feather boa around her neck. May follows, not far behind her, a straw hat adorned with artificial flowers atop her head. It's impossible to mask the grin that creeps over my face when I see them.

"Uh, who is that?" Dylan asks.

"Come," I tell him. "It's time for you to meet my friends."

Dylan raises an eyebrow but allows me to drag him over to Betty and May.

"Mackenzie!" Betty calls. "I can't wait to see your painting!"

"Thanks, Betty. I can't wait to see yours, but first I'd like you to meet Dylan."

"Ah!" Betty's eyes roam my boyfriend's physique from head to toe. "The sexy diver boy!"

I snicker as Dylan's eyes go wide when he registers Betty's comment.

"Manners, Betty," I joke.

"Don't worry about her," May pipes up from behind her. "She's a horn dog."

Betty's gasp is audible as May steps out in front of her, her hand held out in greeting. "I'm May."

Dylan struggles to hold back a laugh. "Nice to meet you, May. And you too, Betty."

"If you'll excuse us, ladies, I'm going to show Dylan my painting now, but we'll catch up with you soon." I link my arm through Dylan's and guide him to the back of the room.

As we walk away from the two older women, Dylan throws a glance back over his shoulder. I turn to see what has caught his attention, only to find Betty still gawking, her eyebrows jumping up and down.

"What is happening? Who is that?" he asks me with wide eyes.

"That's Betty," I giggle.

"She's staring at me like she wants to eat me."

"Pretty sure she does."

"That's not encouraging." He pulls me in close as we reach the back of the room.

"I'm sorry I subjected you to that." I grin as I wrap my arms around his neck.

"No, you're not." Dylan smirks back at me, his eyes shining under the studio lights.

"Okay. Yeah, I'm not." I agree, then lay a quick kiss on his cheek. "Are you ready to see my painting."

"I've never been more ready."

I unfurl my arms from around him and take his palm in mine, leading him through the maze of art and sculptures until we're standing in front of the painting I poured my soul into.

"There it is." I stand stiffly beside him, awaiting his reaction to my work.

To my relief, a slow smile stretches across his face as he takes it all in.

A beachscape. Cool blue waves crashing against a white sandy shore. A cloudless sky above. And there in the centre, a kelpie-border collie mix chasing a seagull into the water alongside a shirtless man wearing a pair of blue boardshorts.

A man, that if I'm being honest, stole my heart long ago, sitting around a beach bonfire at a mutual friend's wedding.

"Amazing," he says, not taking his eyes off the painting.

"Betty told me to paint something that moves me. Something that makes me feel alive," I tell him. Then with a shrug, I add, "Well, that was after she suggested that my sexy diver boy perhaps belonged in my work."

He turns to me now, his eyes searching mine. "Amazing," he says again. "You're amazing."

"Excuse me," a short older woman wearing a black pantsuit interrupts. "Are you the artist of this painting? I'd love to make an offer."

"Uh…yes," I say, taken by surprise. "I'm the artist."

"How do you feel about – " the woman begins.

"I'm sorry. I'm going to have to stop you right there." Dylan interjects with a palm raised in the air. "I'll pay double whatever you're willing to pay for it, because there is absolutely no way in hell that this painting isn't coming home with me."

The woman smiles. "Sounds like you already have an eager buyer here, but I'd love to commission something in the future," she says to me. "Your work is fantastic. I'll be in touch."

With that, she turns and wanders across the room, continuing to peruse the other paintings on display.

"Did you hear that, Kenz? Looks like you have a future buyer," Dylan says enthusiastically. "You could really turn this into a career."

I think back to what I'd said to Harper on the pier a few months ago. About how putting prices and deadlines on the things you love to do only turns them into chores.

Then I smile, a surge of happiness rippling through me at the possibility that I could make a living out of doing something that brings me so much joy. That I could share my art with others. It seems my pessimistic outlook on life has come a long way.

"Yeah, I guess I could."

"I'm sorry I scared her away, but I have the perfect spot reserved for it." He eyes the painting again, before his gaze returns to mine, a flicker of a grin tugging at his lips. "Also, I just really wanted to be your first customer."

"You don't have to pay for it, Dylan. It was never for sale." I wrap my arms around his neck and lay a kiss on his lips. "It's yours. And so am I."