Epilogue
(Skye)
One year later
I’m standing in my new studio, the one I bought all by myself! And even better, I now have three artists working with me to help create my products. Lawson likes to call them my disciples.
Since accepting Lawson’s offer to create paintings for his hotel lobbies, my earnings have gone through the roof. I not only have a whole range in the hotels, but they’ve also converted them into prints, which hang in the hotel bedrooms.
I also sell the prints to the public in a range of quality and price points, so something is affordable to most everyone.
They’ve been snapped up, and hang in college dorms rooms and living room walls across the country.
You can even get them on things like mugs, shower curtains and calendars.
Most lucrative of all, I do limited-edition hand-finished and signed canvas prints of each painting, which I sell for a high four figures a pop.
And the best thing of all? Every single one of my works challenges the concept of the division of wealth in the world. And thousands and thousands have sold.
My message, so core to my being, is getting out. I might not change the world, but I’m trying.
Soon after the day my mother left the voicemail, Lawson flew my parents out to California for a reunion. He even put them up in his newest hotel, so they’d see my paintings every time they went in and out of the hotel.
They loved it, though I’m not sure that was the reason he put them there. I think he was trying to reinforce to them how wrong they’d been not to support me.
Meanwhile, they told everyone who entered the lobby that their daughter was the artist, whether the people were looking at my paintings or not.
Lawson really did run that article on me. My parents provided him with enough stories of me to fill a novel, let alone three pages in a glossy magazine.
As a result, people from all over the world now commission me for private works. Which I do for a mega-large fee, provided I have the time.
It didn’t take much for me to convince Lawson I was glad I lost the Kelso commission.
Kelso was so freaked by Lawson’s anger and threats that he practically begged to settle a few months later. Which Lawson used to his advantage, and got far more out of Kelso than the amount he was originally willing to settle for. Sucker.
“This building is amazing, sweetie,” my dad says as we enter the main area.
“I love it. It’s all my design, with tons of light from the two-story windows,” I say. I freaking love my studio.
“It feels very industrial.”
“It’s an artist studio, Dad. It’s supposed to feel like a warehouse.”
“If you say so, you’re the expert.”
I totally am the expert.
Oh, did I mention my daddy’s here to walk me down the aisle?
The studio has a magnificent industrial church-like atmosphere, and I couldn’t think of a better place to get married. We’ve cleared out all the stuff, which was no easy feat, and crammed it all into my office and back rooms for the day.
Folding chairs in neat rows are packed with people, with an aisle down the middle.
Lawson insisted on overflowing the room with flowers. He said for beauty, but really I suspect he’s trying to cover the smell of paints and paint cleaners.
My dad and I are standing just around the corner, out of sight from the guests and waiting for the music to start.
I peek around the corner and spot Lawson waiting for me at the makeshift altar.
My breath hitches at the sight. Even though we’ve now been living together for ten months, it feels like this is the first time I’m seeing his utterly gorgeous face.
He’s wearing a custom-made Italian-cut dark-gray tux with a black bow tie. I made him wear it.
Lawson protested, saying I might stand him up because I didn’t want to marry a prick. I told him to fuck off, and that I wouldn’t marry a man wearing a T-shirt, no matter how much I loved him. Besides, I’ve gotten used to the idea of spending the rest of my life with a rich prick.
Right now, my heart pounds at the knowledge we’re about to be married. But I’m not the least bit nervous, only excited. I want to run down the aisle into his arms right now.
There are so many things I want to do with him right now, but we’re going to have to get rid of all these guests first.
And this silk and lace wedding gown I’m wearing — although Lawson may want me to keep on what’s underneath. I can’t wait to see his face when he sees me look all innocent and virginal in my white lace lingerie.
I’m super excited to give Lawson my wedding present to him. I designed him a new tattoo. He’s finally getting that self portrait of my tits he always teases me about. I can’t wait to see his face.
The music starts: the very unoriginal Wedding March that my father requested. Apparently he’s dreamed about this day since I was a baby. That’s fine, my dreams have all come true, I don’t mind making someone else’s come true too.
“Ready, Skye?” Dad asks, offering me his arm.
“It’s about time.”
I take his arm and we walk down the aisle. My mother stands in the front row, dabbing her eyes with tissues.
Ava and Gordon stand beside her, clasping hands. They announced their engagement last month. I love them and feel I owe them both so much. Transferring Ava the proceeds of my tenth and twenty-fifth paintings was the proudest day of my life. Not only was it enough money to cover all my back rent, it cleared her mortgage. There was even a little left over for her wedding money savings pot.
Julie stands beside Lawson, acting as his best man. She’s still friends with Freya, although she’s lost a lot of respect for her now that she’s moved in with Kelso. Freya will freak when she finds out Kelso isn’t as rich as he lets on, but I can’t feel too sorry for her.
My friend from college, Amy, walks a few feet ahead of me, acting as my maid of honor.
Her and Julie are wearing coordinating dresses in a shade of cerulean blue that I mixed myself. It took me weeks to find the exact shade I wanted, and I’ve gotta say, it looks pretty fucking amazing with all the sunlight flooding in the windows.
Lawson’s eyes are fixed on me the whole way down the aisle, traveling up and down my body, occasionally locking with my eyes.
When we arrive at the altar I notice Lawson swallow hard. The fact truly almost makes me cry. I know it’s because he never thought he’d find someone. At least not someone who loved him for him.
I turn to face him, placing my hands in his.
“I love you,” he mouths.
“I love you too.”