Page 40 of The Top of Admiration
She pulled the curtains open, revealingSunset Vows II, a recreation of the painting I’d created for the first exhibition.
“InSunset Vows II, Miranda Bard transforms familial love, heartbreak, and renewal into a living grove of metaphor. The piece invites viewers to stand behind her parents—figures rendered in quiet silhouette—who face the setting sun, framed by the living embodiments of their daughters’ stories. It’s a study in legacy: how love branches, intertwines, and sometimes grows apart.
On one side, the Japanese maples of Juliet and Seamus twist together with serenity, trees that have both maturedin harmony, their roots indistinguishable. Their stillness is aspirational. On the other, Cordy’s birch bends toward Damon’s cedar: supple meeting steadfast, fragility meeting shelter. Their intertwined forms pulse with movement and tension, the brushstrokes warmer and more chaotic, as though the artist cannot quite decide if she’s painting union or hope.
Yet, the most striking presence may be absence itself. In the original piece, Miranda’s willow stood alone—its branches trailing toward the earth, graceful but solitary. In this, Bard lays bare an emotional truth: love without respect consumes rather than supports. The decision to let the willow stand free transformed solitude into strength.
The second iteration of this work is not simply a family portrait; it’s a meditation on emotional resilience. Each tree carries the weight of choice—who we grow toward, who we grow away from, and what remains when love cannot entwine.”
My heart felt like it would beat out of my throat. I dared not look at Cam, though I felt his warm hand on mine. Leticia continued.
“Bard’s new painting reimagined her tree entwined with an olive tree, a living metaphor for steadiness and grace. Where once her willow had stood alone—flexible yet yearning—now its pale trunk curves gently toward the olive’s silvery branches, their forms united in quiet balance. The olive tree, with its deep roots and enduring leaves, symbolizes patience, stability, and peace. Together, the two trees form a calm duet: one bending, one grounding; one reaching toward the light, the other anchoring them both in soil rich with understanding. As an art lover, I have to say, this is my favorite of all the artist’s works.” She finished with a warm smile.
I had no idea what to do next. Still avoiding Cam’s gaze, I stared at Lucy desperately. All of a sudden, I felt like Andy fromHow toLose a Guy in 10 Days. I’d just done the artist version of creating photoshopped versions of what our children would look like. He asked me for a date. Not to intertwine with my branches. I had no doubt he’d want to intertwine, but in the physical sense.
Mom was crying and Lucy was letting out the occasional squeal. Jules stood quietly next to Seamus, gazing at the painting in deep thought. She was emotional, but for the first time in my life, I couldn’t really read her face. She wasn’t happy, but she wasn’t sad. She seemed to admire the painting, but stood stiffly, her posture betraying her pensive face.
Cam lifted my hand to get my attention. Reluctantly, I slowly moved my gaze up to meet his. “That is fucking beautiful, Miranda,” he said, his eyes gleaming. “That is, it’s beautiful if I’m the olive tree. Otherwise, I do have some issues with it.”
“You’re the tree if you wanna be,” was all I could manage. I was a prankster and impulsive, but never on a public, grand scale like this. How did Bad Cam manage to make a public fool of himself so many times and bounce back with growing audacity? I guess in his case, alcohol always helped. Well, most of the time it helped. Maybe not when he was being a jackass on the roof of his car outside my house bleating into a megaphone.
Lucy waited impatiently, as though for a classic rom com ending. No way would I make out with her brother properly in front of my parents. Or my boss. Jules took control, telling everyone that it was time to clear up outside. They filtered out, with Cordy eventually returning to physically pull Lucy out of the cubicle. I heard whispers, but couldn’t discern the words. I could certainly discern Lucy’s fading reply. “Itismy business.Ihelped here and that ismy…” Her voice trailed off as Cordy pulled her further into the distance.
“Cam, I’m really sorry for all the stiches and fractures … and stuff. And I hope I didn’t overstep. I just wanted to show you, without injury or anonymity, that I’m grateful and that I …” I had the terrible habit of beginning sentences that I had no idea how to end. Maybe one day I’d get over my urge to fill silence.
“Okay, that’s the last apology. And the last thank-you. Miranda, that is the most amazing and thoughtful gift anyone has ever given me in my life. And tell your parents hands off this painting. They’ve already got one.”
He leaned down and kissed me properly. Reaching up, I smoothed down the back of his soft hair, enjoying the warmth of his strong body so close to mine. I could hear the clank of trays as my family presumably cleaned up outside.
“Okay, but you don’t really wantme,” I blurted, breaking away from the kiss and gesturing vaguely toward myself like I was a walking hazard warning. “I’m chaos, Cam. Actual, statistical chaos. You’re … order. You’re calm, and patient, and you probably fold your laundry the same day you wash it. I’m the person who once set her high-school boyfriend’s textbooks on fire. Accidentally! But still. Flames. Ash. Tears. It was … fiery.”
Cam raised an eyebrow. “I feel like I shouldn’t ask, but … how exactly does oneaccidentallyset a library on fire?”
“It wasn’t a library,” I said quickly. “I’m not an arsonist! It was his car. He kept his books in the back seat, and I thought it would be cute to surprise him with candles for our six-month anniversary. You know, romantic ambiance, a little mood lighting, except apparently tealights and loose math notes don’t mix.”
He pressed his lips together to hide a smile. “So, you’re saying you bring warmth to every relationship. And you’re goal oriented.”
I groaned. “I’m saying I’m a walking safety hazard, Cam.”
He laughed, pulling me against him to close the distance I’d created. “Miranda, I’ve already seen you glue a porch step together with superglue and optimism. You broke my ankle, slashed my arm and had me king hit. A few burned textbooks aren’t going to scare me.”
“They werecalculus books,” I said weakly. “He cried. And his parents made Mom and Dad pay for the replacements.”
“Then he wasn’t built to love you properly,” Cam said simply. “You’re spark and kindling and chaos and light. And I’ll take the heat any day.”
To love me? Oh God, this man!
“That’s the dumbest romantic thing I’ve ever heard,” I whispered.
He smiled. “Good. I’ve been practicing. You know, you say too much when you’re nervous.”
“I’mnotnervous,” I lied instantly.
“And you try to convince people you’re trouble because you’re scared they’ll leave first.” He smiled gently, his voice dropping into something warm and unwavering. “I’m not going anywhere, Miranda. Not because you’re perfect. Because you’re real. And in case you haven’t noticed, I’m not perfect either.”
And somehow, I laughed because of course he’d turn my anxious confessions into reassurance, into something steady and safe.
“True. Your bones are really weak. Seriously, it’s like they just surrender without a fight. Your skin too. The slightest pressure and they just … kapow! And you have this really weird collarbone kink.” I smiled at him, and he looked a little sheepish.
