Page 55 of Mad for Madison

“This is amazing,” I said, grinning as I studied her handiwork. “You’ve outdone yourself, kiddo. This belongs in the gallery.”

She giggled, covering her mouth with her hands. “No, it doesn’t! Gran helped me with the glitter,” she added, her voice dropping like she was sharing a secret.

I glanced at Dorothy, who stood in the doorway, her presence as steady and grounding as ever. “Glitter teamwork, huh? That explains why it’s perfect.”

Lily nodded solemnly. “Gran said it’s good luck. You need it for tonight.”

My chest tightened, warmth spreading through me. I set the drawing on the table and pulled Lily into a hug, careful not to crush her in my arms. “You’re my lucky charm. This is the best gift ever.”

“Don’t squish her,” Bradley teased, his voice warm with affection.

“She’s tougher than she looks,” I shot back, grinning as Lily wriggled out of my grasp and started exploring the studio. Her tiny fingers hovered near a canvas, her curiosity on full display as she examined each piece like a miniature critic.

“She’s been excited about this visit all day,” Gran said, stepping into the room. “She’s your biggest fan.”

“And your competition,” Bradley added, smirking. “Better watch out.”

“She’ll have her own gallery opening in no time,” I said, catching Lily’s eye as she twirled in the center of the room.

Gran clapped her hands gently. “Come on, Lily. Let’s give Madison some time to prepare.”

Lily hesitated, her lower lip jutting out. “Do we have to?”

“Yes, darling,” Gran said kindly. “He’ll need every ounce of that good luck you gave him.”

Lily finally nodded, though she looked over her shoulder as Gran led her toward the door. “Bye, Madison! Good luck!”

“Bye, sweetheart. Thank you,” I called after her.

The door clicked shut, leaving the studio quieter, though the warmth they brought lingered.

Bradley leaned against the wall, his arms crossed as he watched me. “You okay?”

I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding. “Yeah. Just…a little nervous.”

He crossed the room in a few strides, his hands landing on my shoulders, warm and grounding. “You’ve got this,” he said, his voice low and steady.

His confidence in me was overwhelming. I covered one of his hands with mine, squeezing lightly. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

Bradley smiled, a small, private thing that made my heart squeeze. “Lucky for you, you don’t have to find out.”

I laughed softly, leaning into him. “A year and a half ago, I couldn’t even picture this—any of it.”

He tilted his head, his gaze searching mine. “Neither could I.”

We stood there for a moment, the weight of everything we’d been through hanging between us—not heavy, but present, a reminder of how far we’d come.

By the time we arrived, the gallery was buzzing. The space was packed with people—critics, collectors, fellow artists, and friends. The lighting was soft and flattering, illuminating each piece in a way that made them feel alive.

Mama Viv was in full drag, admiring the painting of herself. It was a broody piece that played with the mirror from which she seemed to almost notice the painter standing behind her—or a ghost of someone long gone—and the sight froze her hand, lipstick almost touching her lips.

Tristan and Cedric stood with her, joking that I should be hired to paint the royal portraits for Cedric’s family in Verdumont.

Everett was glued to the painting of Roman, although Rome deliberately avoided looking at it. In it, Roman stood at the front of a blurry crowd of rebels, leading the revolution against whatever cause the viewer projected onto the canvas. It was a flatteringly heroic depiction, and Roman had been laughing about it ever since he’d first seen it.

Jett was there, too, with several actors I knew. Some of them had modeled for me when I needed to study different poses; others inspired me with their body shapes and their flaring personalities.

Luca was waiting near the centerpiece, a glass of champagne in hand and a grin on his face.

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