Page 111 of If You Give an Artist a Killer Muse

See? I got this.

I’m fine.

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“Bitch, you’re married!” I screech, throwing my arms around my best friend.

Nat squeals, wrapping her arms around my waist. We both jump and down like children, ignoring the looks on people's faces.

“Can I have my wife back?” Oscar asks with a sigh, though a smile threatens to spread across his face as I throw myself at him, too.

“We’re in-laws now!” I tease him, “I’ve always wanted a big brother to annoy.”

“You’re already like an annoying little sister, brat.” Oscar scoffs, rubbing his knuckles on top of my head.

I slap his hand away, “I freaking spent over an hour sitting down on a chair to spend almost $200 to get my hair done. If you mess with my hair, I will throw a fit.”

“Only $200?”

I turn around and grin at Mr. Rogers walking over to us. He squeezes Oscar’s shoulder, and his eyes soften when they land on the beautiful bride. “That was a beautiful ceremony, you two.”

Nat’s eyes glisten as she grins up at him. Then, as if remembering how much she spent on getting her make-up done, she glances upward, fans her face, and clears her throat before returning her gaze to her dad. “Thank you, Dad.”

Mr. Rogers glances at Oscar and speaks sternly, “Listen. Just because I gave her to you down the aisle does not mean she’s all yours, right? She’s still my little girl. If you treat her anything less than a Queen, you will have me to answer to.”

Oscar nods immediately. “Absolutely, sir. Don’t worry.”

As soon as the newly married couple walks over to continue mingling with their guests, Mr. Rogers turns to me with the same soft smile he gave Nat.

I grin back, “How does it feel to have a married daughter?”

He releases a sharp breath, shaking his head. “I keep looking at you two and remember how you girls and my son got into many troubles during your guys' school years.”

“Aw, come on, Mr. Rogers. We’re too mature for that now,” I tease. “We get in trouble with these random men you push us to.”

He glares playfully before rolling his eyes. His gaze softens as he heavily sighs, looking at me with a crooked grin. “Now that I barely survived my first daughter getting married off, I beg you to have mercy on your old man and don’t fall in love and run off with someone, too.”

I bite my bottom lip to stop from grinning like an idiot.

“Too late,” I chuckle. “I may have found my little guardian angel in the flesh.”

“You don’t have to call me that,” Mr. Rogers smirks arrogantly.

I throw my head back and laugh. I have never felt so happy, bright, and loved as I do today. I shake my head and look at Mr. Rogers, my chosen dad, my real dad. He may have thought I said that as a joke, but now that I think about it?

It’s true. After the episode I experienced yesterday, I’m reminded of where I came from and what I have now.

Mr. Rogers may have read my emotions because his expression changes from playful, frowning to concerned. His eyes dart around us before he reaches out, placing a comforting hand on my shoulder and drawing closer.

“Briar, is everything okay?” he asks in a hushed tone, his voice filled with genuine concern.

I blink. It’s rare for him to show any emotions besides his usual sarcastic, arrogant, playful self. So, the fact that he’s looking at me with so much concern is jarring. The last time he was like this was when I ran away from my uncle.

“Yes?” I say, realizing it sounds like I was questioning my answer. “Stop worrying, old man. You’ll start gaining more white hairs and have to dye your hair again.”

His eyes narrow. “Briar.”

My grin falters.

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