Chapter 23

“It’s stunning, Quinn,” Kiera said, her fingers intertwining with his as they stood in the gallery’s main hall a few minutes before the event was set to start. He squeezed her hand tighter, needing to feel her there with him for this.

They’d spent the afternoon getting ready for tonight and working with the gallery to transport the dancer here. Every bit of the effort had been worth it as he stood here now looking at his art, his dancer, his sculpture in a prestigious Manhattan art gallery. There was no more cane by his side, no more glaring sign that he’d once almost died, but rather an expensive tailored suit that hid every scar he still carried.

This was his moment.

“I can’t believe they’ve got it in the center of the room,” he said, reveling in how many people were about to see something he’d spent months working on. The exhibit featured dozens of local artists, each with one piece, and he felt honored to be among their ranks. It was a start, and Quinn was thrilled for the chance.

Her arms were stretched out, one above her head and one to the side, while the rest of her disappeared into hundreds of tiny wires that curled and spun this way and that. The imperfections were numerous but purposeful. Each dent and rise and discoloration in the metals only added to the emotion of the piece. The dancer’s face was weathered and tired, but there was a hope to it that he wanted the world to see.

“It’s not surprising at all. Your dancer is the best piece in here,” Kiera told him, resting her head against his shoulder.

He smiled, loving her ability to make him feel infallible. There was nothing she’d not support him on, and he knew now without a doubt that she was in this. She loved him, even if she wasn’t ready to say it out loud.

“What did you end up titling her?” Kiera asked, squeezing his fingers with hers.

Quinn hesitated for a moment, heat rising in his cheeks at the intimacy of the title he’d chosen for his dancer. But he wanted her to know. He wanted her to know what she meant to him. “I titled it She Came Back.”

Her face turned to look at him, tears forming over her bottom lashes. “She Came Back?”

“You came back, Keeks.”

Small sniffling sounds came from her direction and he lifted his arm to hug her shoulders, pulling her against him and kissing her temple. They didn’t say anything else for several minutes. There was nothing else needed. The dancer was Quinn’s expression of love and appreciation to her for returning to him.

It was all he’d ever wanted, and she had given that to him.

So he was giving this to her. His art, his fresh start in the world…for her.

She wiped at her face, turning to him. “It’s perfect, Quinn.”

“Come on, let’s go grab a glass of wine,” he told her. “People are starting to arrive. I’m going to need a little liquid courage.”

Kiera laughed, nodding her head. “God, yes. That sounds perfect.”

A few minutes later, they were both holding a glass and watching the patrons swirling around the gallery floor. There had been a small line outside, so the moment the doors opened, the room began to fill.

In all honesty, he was overwhelmed by the sight. They watched from a distance, trying to read the expressions of the people who circled his dancer.

“Babe, let’s get closer so we can hear what they’re saying.” Kiera nudged him.

He shook his head. “I don’t think so. I can see fine here.”

She didn’t argue, only squeezed his hand tighter. An older couple read the little plaque in front of his piece with the title and Quinn’s name, and they nodded several times before circling it again. A group of young women—students, maybe—engaged in a lively discussion with each other, pointing out different parts of the dancer with smiles on their faces. A lone man stood in front of it for at least five minutes, not circling or showing any expression, only staring. Several people snapped photographs, and someone even posed with it. That was a little weird, but the idea of his work possibly being posted online soon thrilled him.

“Ooh, there’s your mom!” Kiera pointed toward the gallery’s main door where Dee was now standing.

She looked lovely as always, dressed in a sparkly blazer and long skirt, her hair and makeup done. He hadn’t seen her so dressed up in a long time, and the effort made his heart warm. Not that she didn’t always look beautiful—she did—but she normally wore her hair in a loose bun with no makeup, and her outfits usually prioritized comfort over fashion. Even if his mother hadn’t told him fifteen million times, it was evident she was proud of him just from her presence.

He waved to her. “Ma!”

Her eyes landed on him, her face lighting up. His father stepped into the room behind her, wrapping an arm around his wife’s waist. Jimmy walked in next. Then Casey. Then Kieran and Fiona, and Shea with the big pink earmuffs she always wore since she struggled with loud sounds. Kane and Nora waltzed in next, wrapped around each other as they always were. Rory and Clare came in last, his baby nephew in Rory’s arms and Clare’s baby bump already beginning to show.

The entire entrance was full of Kavanaghs.

“They’re all here,” Kiera said, emotion choking her words.

Every fear he’d had about being discovered, or teased, or whatever he’d thought might happen if his brothers found out, melted away. He’d thought having them here was the last thing he wanted, and yet now that they were, an empty part of him felt whole. They should be here to share his moment. He needed them with him.

They were boisterous and crazy and way too big, but they were almost as much a part of his work as he was.

Swallowing the lump in his throat, he inhaled slowly. “They’re here.”

“Was there ever any doubt?” Kiera replied, smiling at him with all the pride in the world.

He kissed her, one quick, sweet show of gratitude before they made their way back across the room to his family.

“So, I see you told everyone,” Quinn addressed his mother first.

Dee shrugged her small shoulders. “You knew I would.”

Quinn laughed and everyone exchanged hugs and hellos; it probably took a good five minutes to greet everybody. They all congratulated him, and there wasn’t a single naysayer among them.

“Which piece is yours, man?” Rory asked, patting Quinn’s back, his gray eyes already searching the room. “We’re dying to see it.”

Quinn pointed toward the dancer in the center of the room. “The metal sculpture there.”

“No shit?” Kane interrupted, a hand rubbing his freshly shaved face. Quinn hadn’t seen Kane shave for anything in a while, and the small detail touched him. “That’s you, Q?”

The entire family shuffled in the direction of the dancer, forming a semicircle around her. No one spoke. Everyone only stood and stared, taking in every inch of it.

Dee, sniffling and with her hands wiping at her face, said, “Quinny, this is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”

“Thanks, Ma.”

Kiera nudged his arm, tipping her chin toward his mother as if to encourage him to go hug her. When he did, Dee squeezed his chest tightly, her tears wetting his suit. “I’m serious, mo mhac. I knew you were amazing, but this…” His mother gestured to the dancer. “This is magical, baby boy.”

“Your mother’s right, Quinn,” Seamus agreed, his light gray eyes showing more emotion than Quinn usually saw from his father. “This is impressive.”

Quinn’s brows lifted, absorbing the weight of his father’s approval. “Wow…thanks, Pops.”

Kane came up next to him and slapped him on the back. “Fuck, Q. I know I give you shit, but this right here is so much better than anything I’ve ever done in the ring.”

“Kane,” Quinn started. His brother was a world champion MMA fighter, so that was quite the exaggeration.

“No, man. I’m not pulling your chain. I’m serious. This is real, and this is powerful.” Kane patted his shoulder again. “I’m proud of you, man.”

“Uncle Quinny made that, Murphy,” Clare cooed to her son, bouncing him on her hip now as she pointed to the dancer. “Do you see that pretty sculpture? That’s by your uncle.”

Murphy reached out grabby hands toward Quinn.

Grinning, Quinn took his little nephew and cuddled him in his arms. “Hey, Murph.”

“He loves you,” Rory said, standing next to his wife. “Let’s hope he grows up like his favorite uncle.”

Kane rolled his eyes. “Not this ‘favorite uncle’ shit again.”

Quinn ignored Kane, instead lifting his gaze to his oldest brother, a welling of tears in his eyes at Rory’s words. “Thanks, man.”

He barely squeezed out more than a few words to the rest of his family as each of them showered him with praise. His family was completely serious, and completely supportive, and it meant the world to him. There was no teasing, no joking, no playing around. He wasn’t the family clown today. He wasn’t Kane’s agent. He wasn’t his father’s right-hand man.

He was Quinn, the artist. His own person. His own man.

“Thank you guys for coming,” he told them all, Kiera’s arm around his. He covered her hand with his, holding her tighter against him as he swallowed the lump in his throat. “You don’t know how much it means to me to have your support. I love you guys.”

“We love you, Quinny,” Dee gushed, running in for another hug.

“Shit, man, I’m half considering firing you as my manager so you can do this full-time,” Kane said, laughing. “You’re fucking talented, Q.”

Quinn grinned, almost hoping his brother would fire him. That was a decision for another night. Today was just about celebrating a new start, a new passion, and maybe a new dream.

“I always knew you were going places, Quinn,” Kieran pitched in. “Congratulations, because this is beyond anything I ever could have dreamed up.”

They all stayed for a few minutes before dispersing throughout the rest of the gallery and viewing the other artists’ works. Rory and Clare left first because of the baby’s bedtime, and Kieran and Fiona weren’t far behind with Shea. Jimmy was there, but distracted as he worked on convincing a tall brunette to give him her phone number.

Trudy and Mandy came for a while, gushing over the piece. Quinn had spent years impressed by these women’s creative talent, so for them to return the compliment was high praise. They demanded to see his studio, and he relented that they could eventually. Finally, they headed home as well, having to relieve their babysitter.

Eventually, the evening waned; his family had gone, and the crowds had emptied. Quinn stepped into a cab with Kiera, ready to head home. They were both completely exhausted from the entire day, and its emotional heaviness.

“Hey, Keeks?” He turned to face her on the backseat as they headed to the Bronx, one hand on her knee.

Sleepy eyes looked back at him, a contented smile on her face. “Yeah?”

“I love you.”

She nodded, a small chuckle weighed down with sleepiness emanating from her lips. “Well, duh. I’m fantastic.”

Quinn grinned, leaning back into the seat and closing his eyes. All he could hope was that when he opened them again, tonight wouldn’t have been a dream.

“Hey, Quinn?” Kiera lay her head against his shoulder, yawning loudly.

He opened his eyes, and kissed the top of her head. Both of her arms wrapped around one of his as she leaned into him.

“Yeah, Keeks?”

“I love you, too. I always have, but now it’s in an I-want-forever-with-you kind of way.” She placed a kiss against his shoulder. “I’m in love with you.”

Quinn kissed the top of her head once more. “I know, Keeks.”

“Good,” she replied, settling back against his shoulder and closing her eyes. “Also, we should discuss dresser space soon. I’m going to need at least one of your drawers for my clothes, but preferably five.”

He laughed, but his heart thumped in his chest with an overwhelming feeling of fullness—pure happiness. She was in love with him. This was real. They were all in.

He nuzzled his nose into her hair, whispering, “I love you, too.”

And definitely in an I-want-forever-with-you kind of way.