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Hannah waves a hand through the air. "No need to trouble yourself. Thank you, though."
"You sure? It'd only take a minute."
Her teeth press into her lips. "Well, truth be told, I would love some wine, but..." She glances down, and my eyes follow hers to her stomach, where she brushes a hand, revealing a faint bump. "We're expecting."
"That's amazing!" I exclaim, almost covering my mouth in surprise. Did I really need to be so loud? But the two share a look that welcomes my enthusiasm. "I would've never guessed. You're hardly showing. How far along are you?"
"Just twelve weeks."
"So exciting. Do you know the gender yet?"
"It's a boy. The name is still up for debate. Damien likes Ethan, and my vote's for Caleb."
Despite barely knowing the woman before me, I'm filled with an inexplicable giddiness, as is Lauren, who gazes at her best friend with the same affection I reserve for Mei. "My cousin will see it your way, Hannah, no doubt."
"You think so?"
"One hundred percent."
"We're ready—we're so beyond ready—but it's just happened all so fast. I'm still trying to process, yet I'm so excited. Meanwhile, Damien's already planned out the nursery and bought half his wardrobe, all by the end of the first trimester. Isn't the guy supposed to be the one who freaks out? Or am I just…"
I sigh peacefully, eavesdropping once again, but this time, Hannah's voice is oddly comforting and natural, almost as if this is far from the last time I'll hear it. Lauren's, too, as I slip back into the conversation with ease, losing myself in a discussion that seemingly steers itself.
Until camera flashes on the opposite side of the partition walls steal my attention, illuminating the showroom's entrance and drawing the crowd out of the East Gallery. One by one, we gravitate toward the commotion, but I hesitate on my approach, already anticipating what I'll see before I round the corner.
A vision that evokes proud tears.
Hayden, receiving the recognition he deserves.
EPILOGUE PART TWO
I'll never grow tired of having Juliana on my arm.
And luckily for me, as of three months ago, my best friend stopped looking at me like he'd chop off said arm.
To my left, Jeremy scratches his chin quizzically and hums for perhaps the twentieth time in five minutes, his gaze fixed on the painting Juliana also admires. Sensing my irritation, she snickers, the movement squeezing my arm.
Another dramatic inhale and…
"Hmmmmmmmmmm—"
"Bro, what is your deal?" Juliana convulses against me, shaking with silent laughter. "I already answered your questions about this one, so I don't get why you're channeling your inner Confucius. Need a gong to complete the vibe? Maybe a mat to meditate?"
I smirk when Juliana lets loose a laugh—just one, from those ruby red lips. I don't stare at them for too long, or permit my eyes to trail down the modest yet tight black dress she wears, lest I draw the attention of those around us to yet another piece of art at this showcase.
One below my belt.
"Hmmmm, yessss."
Fucking hell.
Jeremy swirls his flute by the stem, eyeing the glass, presumably searching for legs, even though he's drinking champagne, not wine. When he upturns his nose, his voice taking on a nasally tone, I instantly recognize what he's doing.
Mocking the guests.
I'd chastise him, but… they are a bit eccentric.
After his initial praise of my talents and an onslaught of questions, this is what he resorts to? I kind of love him for it.
