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“Thank you,” the cameraman called out.

While there had been press at the initial premier night of Anthony’s work. Dane had told him tonight was more low-key. That could only mean one thing. Anthony turned to Albert.

“So that’s what this is all about,” he said, trying to hold on to his temper.

“What’s the harm in a little family photo?” Albert said, stepping away.

“Your father is thinking of running for town council,” Olivia said.

“He’s not my father.” Anthony stepped back from the pair. “I should have guessed it wasn’t my paintings you wanted to see.” He was mad at himself for the little bit of hope that had flared in his gut that maybe they’d finally come around. He was a fool. “This is all I’ve ever been to the two of you, a prop. I’m not doing it anymore.”

“Please.” Albert hissed out the word. “What you do isn’t art. It’s porn.”

“It’s beautiful,” Kaley said, walking out of the gallery and to his side. Her eyes were flashing daggers at Albert. “Anthony’s art is special. There are few artists that can capture the sensuality he brings to the canvas.”

Albert shook his head, while Olivia stuck her nose in the air. “You may think so, young lady. But Anthony’s drawings are anything but art.”

Kaley stiffened, and Anthony hid a smile. She was defending him and his art.

“Enough.” He kept his voice low, but the command was there. “You got what you wanted. It’s time for you to leave.”

With a huff, they walked away into the night. Anthony looked down at Kaley. “You didn’t have to defend me.”

“What is their problem anyway?”

“I’ll explain later, but for now. I’m glad you’re here.” She deserved so much more than him. Maybe he should call off their relationship. They’d just gotten back together. He let out a sigh. Why wasn’t life easier?

* * * *

Anthony loosened his tie as they walked into his cottage. He walked into the kitchen, intent on pouring himself a whisky, when he stopped short. Kaley was with him, and she didn’t do alcohol. She didn’t mind if he had a beer or wine, but hard liquor… He shook his head and started a mug of coffee.

“Do you feel like talking about what was going on?” she asked, putting her arms around him as she pressed against his back.

“Do you mean my parents?” He pulled the first cup of coffee from the machine and started another one.

“Yes.” Her arms tightened around him. “They were rude.”

“I don’t know why they bothered.” The second mug finished. “Actually, I do know. They wanted a photo op. The perfect little family.” The bitterness in his words surprised even him.

“Anthony.” Kaley’s voice was soft, and her arms tightened when he tried to slip out of her hold.

“It’s who they are. They never cared about me.” He pried her arms from around him and stalked over to the fridge, pulling out milk and pouring it into her mug.

“They must have cared at some point. They adopted you.”

He picked up their mugs and gestured to the family room. If he was going to tell this story, he was going to do it in comfort.

Kaley sat on the sofa as he placed her mug on the table in front of her and took his seat in the overstuffed chair. Anthony cradled the mug in his hands, enjoying the warmth.

“While they adopted me, I don’t think they ever loved me.”

She opened her mouth and closed it.

“No argument?”

“I can’t.” She took a small sip of her coffee and set it back down. “You know about my parents.”

“We both have seriously messed up families.”

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