“I did do better, didn’t I?” I give a wobbly laugh when he winks, taking my mom’s hand and pulling her into the crowd over to where the Reids are—well, one-half of them since I don’t see Nate’s dad, Axel. The Becketts, Coopers, and Cages are laughing and smiling in the back corner.
Their children scattered around the room, as well, but I only have eyes for the long-haired man in black standing in front of A Beautiful War with his father at his side.
I’m stopped a few times on the way to him. A few critics from the local paper and the Atlanta Journal-Constitution stop me for a few quick questions, making my high for the night climb even higher. The AJC? Holy crap. That’s huge for them to feature an Atlanta artist! By the time I’m stepping up behind the Reid men, I might as well be walking on clouds I’m so happy.
“You going to tell her tonight?” I hear Axel ask his son.
“Yeah. I can’t wait any longer. It’s killing me to keep it from her.”
My heart seizes in my chest, and I drop the hand that had been reaching for Nate’s shoulder as I wait to hear what else they have to say. If they wanted privacy, well, then they should have had this conversation somewhere else.
“Good you don’t wait any longer. Women don’t appreciate that shit.”
Nate nods, still looking at the canvas in front of him.
“Didn’t want it to come to this, but I can’t keep it in anymore.”
This time Axel bobs his head, taking a swallow of the champagne in his hand. After a few seconds—minutes maybe—Axel gives him a slap on his shoulder and turns. He stumbles a little in his step when he sees me behind them but just bends to kiss my temple, covering his misstep.
“Congratulations, Ember,” he acknowledges softly.
Nate’s shoulders tense, but he doesn’t turn. After his father walks away, I wait for it, but he still doesn’t give me his eyes. Their words run through my mind and instead of feeling the overwhelming desolation I would have expected to feel, I have too much faith in him to just walk away without demanding an explanation.
I haven’t come this far to just give up. If he’s going to end it, he’s going to tell me right now to my face.
Squaring my shoulders and taking a deep breath, I step around him, standing between him and the wall holding A Beautiful War. A fitting place, if there ever was one. Even if the crowd is milling about just a few feet away.
“Nate?” His eyes roam over the piece behind me for a second before looking at me, giving me his attention, and the fierceness in his gaze almost makes my knees buckle. “What is it?”
He studies my face before looking back over my shoulder. “That’s us.”
Not a question.
“That was us,” I correct.
“And what changed?” he continues as his attention stays focused on the painting.
“Everything,” I breathe.
With a deep inhale, I finally get his stunning green eyes. “Give me more than that, Emberlyn. What changed to end our beautiful war?”
Time to go for broke. We’ve been leading up to this for weeks now, and after everything that we’ve been through to get to this point, I just need to take a leap and pray this time things will end differently than it did the last time I told him how I felt.
“My head collided with my heart.”
His pupils dilate, his eyes getting stormy as his nostrils flare. “Give me more,” he demands, taking a step toward me until just the smallest of space separates us from touching.
“Love won.”
His chest heaves, jolting at my words, and he dips until we’re nose to nose. “More.”