Page 107 of Beautiful Lies
I laughed a little. “Now it’s your turn.”
She crossed her arms over her chest. “What do I have to be sorry about?”
“Marie,” my dad warned. I gave him a grateful smile. After all these years, he was starting to stand up to my mom. It gave me hope. Maybe people really could change.
“Fine.” My mom sighed with resignation, but I suspected it was out of habit, more for show than anything. “I’m sorry I didn’t welcome Connor into our home on Thanksgiving.”
“Thank you, Mom. That means a lot to me.”
She sniffed and averted her gaze and I wondered what Connor could have possibly said to cause this transformation after all these years? I wished I’d been a fly on the wall for that conversation. My heart swelled with pride and gratitude. He’d gone over there for me.
I turned to see Connor walking toward us, his eyes flitting over my face before his gaze swung to my parents. My eyes nearly bugged out of my head when my dad stepped forward and shook Connor’s hand. When my mom pulled him into a hug, my jaw dropped to the floor. Had I stepped into an alternate universe?
I was still staring, dumbfounded, when my mom released Connor with a pat on his shoulder and wiped a tear out of her eye. “Now, if you don’t mind, I’d like to look at this art.”
As Connor led them away, he glanced over his shoulder and winked at me.Pretty proud of yourself.And rightly so.
“Ava is my muse,” Connor was telling my parents when I joined them. “Not that any painting could do her justice.”
“Don’t listen to him. He’s an amazing artist,” I said. This was his night and I wanted him to be in the spotlight, to see him get the praise he deserved. I cast a glance at my mom, not sure what she thought of his paintings. She hadn’t said a word which usually meant she disapproved.
We continued in silence until we reached the final painting. I wanted her to say something but only if what she had to say was good. I was torn between wanting her to keep her mouth shut and voicing her opinion.
My dad spoke first. “This is damn fine work,” he said, looking to my mom as if to prompt her.
“Well, I’m not a big fan of graffiti…” She lifted her chin and I gritted my teeth. Don’t do it, Mom. Do not shoot him down. For the love of God, please say something nice. “But I love it.”
I exhaled a breath of relief, so grateful to her that I nearly wept with joy.
“They’re beautiful,” she said. “Real works of art.”
“Thank you,” Connor said, his face neutral but I knew his feelings were anything but neutral. He’d needed to hear words of praise and acceptance from my mom for years, but it had always been denied him. I didn’t know what he had said or done to change her mind about him but whatever it had been, it had worked.
Not even Zeke’s appearance dimmed my joy. He’d brought a date, a leggy blonde who looked like she belonged in his world. And true to form, my mom couldn’t resist making a snide comment. “You run circles around that girl.”
“Mom, she’s beautiful.”
“Her face is a bit too horsey for my liking.”
I sighed and shook my head, jabbing an elbow in Connor’s ribs when his body shook with silent laughter. “Watch yourself, Rocket Man.”
“Are you jealous?” he asked quietly.
I looked over at Zeke looking handsome and preppy in his navy pea coat, his skin perpetually golden tan even in the winter and his blond hair reaching the collar of his coat, his arm wrapped around the blonde girl, and I didn’t even feel a pang of jealousy. Over the two years I’d known Zeke, I’d seen him with plenty of girls. It had never affected me then and it didn’t affect me now. He had been what I needed at the time, maybe, a distraction as he’d pointed out. It had been fun and easy, stress and drama-free, with no emotions at play.
“Not even a little bit.” But if I’d come in here tonight and had seen Connor with another girl it would have ripped me to shreds.
My parents stayed a little while longer then left, claiming that snow was forecasted and my mom didn’t want my father to drive in it.
“I certainly hope you didn’t drive that motorcycle,” my mom told Connor as we saw my parents out of the gallery, the first flurries starting to fall.
“I got a ride in my friend’s truck. It’s hard to transport art on a motorcycle.”
“Well, at least you were being sensible for a change,” my mom said.
He chuckled, not bothered by her little dig and I bit my tongue to stop the words from coming out. No sense in arguing with her when she was trying so hard. Wow. Look how mature I’d gotten. I laughed under my breath, hugged my parents and went back inside with Connor.
“I should probably call an Uber…”
