Page 173 of Lovestruck at Sundown
“I’m here,” I said with a laugh. “Just freaking out.”
Liam was about to say something else when two women approached us. “Hi, Liam!” they said in unison. They seemed to be in their early 30s. “Could we take a photo with you?”
“Absolutely,” Liam said with a smirk, taking a few steps to stand beside them. One of them extended her arm and snapped a selfie.
“Do you want me to take your photo?” I asked.
“Oh! You’re William Sjöberg’s girlfriend, aren’t you?” one of them asked, taking her hand to her mouth. “Can you stand for the selfie, too?”
“I am.” I smiled. “Of course.” No one ever askedmefor a photo. Usually, with William present, I became invisible to the fans who spotted him, and I was perfectly fine with it.
The other woman snapped the selfie, and then I took another photo of the three of them.
“Save that photo, ladies,” Liam sang. “Billie here is en route to becoming a famous photographer.”
“Oh, don’t listen to him.” I felt my face warming up into a flush as Liam pointed at Louis’s portrait and told them it was mine. The two women approached the print to take a closer look at it while Liam and I walked back to the main gallery room to witness the opening ceremony.
I quickly spotted Abigail and approached her to say hello.
“Louis told me he’s already talked to you about the exhibit proposal in Paris,” she said, pushing her glasses higher up the bridge of her nose. “I’m proud of you, Billie. You’re going to do great.”
“Thank you,” I replied. “I’m still wrapping my head around it.”
“They loved your work.” Abigail pressed her lips into a small smile. She wasn’t the most effusive person, but that small smile was enough to show me her approval. “As do I.” She sipped her champagne and said, “Oh, and before I forget. The interview scheduled for Monday will be conducted on a private flight to Europe. Becca knows you won’t be showing up at the office for a couple of days. You’ll have to pack your equipment and build a set on the plane. But I’ll email you the details tomorrow.” She turned around and walked away to join the two other people she arrived with, leaving me standing there with a question mark on my forehead.
“Look at you with the fancy job,” Liam teased, and I rolled my eyes at him. Louis started talking on the microphone, so the chatters around the gallery ceased, sending a cold chill down my spine, and that’s when I saw my dad walking in.
After the ceremony, more champagne was distributed, and we all raised our glasses to toast and celebrate with the Beaumonts.
“He’s here,” I whispered to Liam. “My dad.”
“Do you want to leave, or?”
“No.” I adjusted my purse’s chain strap on my shoulder. “I don’t know. Oh, shit, he’s coming. Shit, shit, shit.”
“Act natural,” Liam said through a smile, pretending to laugh about a joke I clearly did not make.
“What are we, extras in a movie?” I could feel my father’s presence growing stronger the closer he got. He was one hell of a charismatic man. He walked through the crowd wearing the brightest smile that even I was having trouble figuring out if it was authentic or not. He was that good. But deep down, I hoped that it was real, that he was happy, and changed, and at peace with his past.
I didn’t want to be mad at him, but my ego had me in a chokehold, telling me how dare I even think about forgiving him for all that he had done and all the lies and omissions. But the moment he stepped in front of me and said, “Hey, kiddo,” my resolve to stay mad at him forever faltered.
His smile was warm, but up close, his gaze was still glum. He greeted Liam and thanked me for relaying the invitation. We engaged in comfortable small talk, which led to him telling us about the Beaumonts and the day they met. He shared having met their son, Arnaud, and how awful it was to learn about his tragic passing.
“I don’t think I’d have any will left to live if I ever found myself in their position,” my dad said, locking his gaze with mine.
“Well, I’m here, and there’s no need to think that way.” I wanted so badly to hug him, to tell him we should leave everything in the past, that I had lied when I told him I didn’t know how to forgive him because Ididknow how. I’d done it athousand times. But it seemed too soon, too fast, and a dark part of me wanted to punish him a while longer, to have him suffer a little more to make sure he’d truly learned from his mistakes. And even I cringed at my own train of thought because what kind of divine deity did I think I was to demand penance and sacrifice in exchange for forgiveness? God, these thoughts were paralyzing me.
He was my father, and Ilovedhim, even if it meant putting my pride aside to admit it to myself and, eventually, to him.
“Have you seen your daughter’s portrait?” Liam asked my father when he realized I was on the verge of malfunctioning like a glitchy robot that had been left out in the rain all day.
“What portrait?” he replied, looking at me.
We guided him to the room where the portrait was, and I explained how Louis had been interviewed for the magazine and how I had taken this portrait before shooting the final one for Abigail’s column. I didn’t leave out the Beaumonts’ offer to do an exhibit in their Paris gallery.
“I’m so proud of you, kiddo.” The look of satisfaction on my father’s face was priceless.
The words warmed my heart and a genuine smile tugged at my lips.
