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My Last First Kiss: A Single Father Secret Baby Novel by Weston Parker, Ali Parker (41)

Brayden

One Month Later


“Bella!” I called down the hall. “Come put your boots on. It’s time to go.”

I heard her hurried footsteps as she raced out of her bedroom and down the hall upstairs. She came down the stairs and met me at the front door, where I was currently buckling Braxton into his carrier.

Bella tugged her purple rain boots on, and I handed her jacket to her. She slipped her arms through the sleeves and zipped it up herself as I picked up Braxton’s carrier and slung his diaper bag over my other shoulder.

“Ready to go?” I asked.

Bella gave me an affirmative nod, and we locked up the house and went out to the truck. I clipped the two kids into the back seat and got into the driver’s side. I started the truck up and reversed down our long driveway out to the road into town.

“Are you looking forward to painting this afternoon?” I asked Bella, looking at her in my rear-view mirror.

She nodded. “Yep. I started a new one last time we went. Mommy says it’s still in the same spot, waiting for me to finish.”

I loved that Bella had started calling Rein “Mommy.” It had been a recent development, maybe only in the last few weeks or so. Ever since Florida and cutting all my ties with that city, our little family felt closer. It seemed that Bella felt the same way because in her eyes now, Rein was her mother.

“What is it a painting of?” I asked as I took a right turn toward Rein’s gallery. Her shop was still in the same place. I had suggested we buy her something bigger, but she declined the offer. She liked being in the middle of town. She said it was easy for her customers to find her. I couldn’t disagree with the logic.

I also knew she liked her loft. It was her creative space, and if she didn’t want me tampering with it, I wouldn’t.

“I don’t know yet,” Bella confessed as I parked at the curb in front of the gallery door. “Mommy says it will turn into something if I keep painting.”

“I see.” I nodded as I unclipped my seatbelt. I got out of the truck and opened the back door to get the kids out. Braxton chatted me up with bubbling, gleeful sounds. He couldn’t talk yet, but he sure as hell was trying his best. “So, it would seem I have two artists on my hands.”

Bella grinned as she took my hand. We crossed the sidewalk, and I opened the gallery door with my hip. We made our way upstairs, and Bella opened the door to the loft for me. I had hired someone to come and paint some lettering on the etched glass window set in the door. It now read:

 

Valdez Art Gallery

Artist: Rein Hennie

‘A Collection of Valdez’s Small-Town Treasures’

 

The sign had been a surprise for Rein a week after we got back from Florida. She loved the addition and squealed about how official it made everything feel. I was determined to help her get her art out there. There would be hundreds of people who wanted to hang her masterpieces above their fireplace or in their dining room.

When we stepped into the loft, I heard voices chatting. I looked up to see Rein talking with a middle-aged woman with short silver hair. She was dressed in loose fabrics that draped off her shoulders and had massive earrings dangling from her ears.

Rein caught my eye and smiled brightly.

“Brayden,” she said before gesturing to the woman she was speaking with. “This is Helen. Helen, this is my husband, and our daughter Bella, and our son Braxton.”

I approached, and Bella hovered behind my legs shyly.

Helen smiled. “What a beautiful family you have.” She wiggled her fingers at Bella to say hello, and she waved back from behind my legs.

“Nice to meet you, Helen,” I said with a polite nod.

“Likewise,” she said. “Your wife is a very talented artist. I’m in town visiting my brother. He mentioned there was a gallery in town square worth checking out. He was definitely right. Your pieces are wonderful. I run a gallery in New York City, and I would love to purchase some pieces from you to put on display.”

Rein blinked and then looked at me. Her mouth opened, and she tried to speak, but all that came out were short breathless noises.

“She’d be honored,” I said on Rein’s behalf, holding out my hand to shake Helen’s.

She shook it warmly and then patted Rein on the shoulder. “Now, now, dear. Don’t be so surprised. You’re extremely talented. Not only that, but I don’t have anything like this in my shop. I’m always looking for a fresh perspective, and I am happy to say that I have found it here. If you created a website, I am sure you would find homes for all of these paintings.” She gestured around at the entire gallery floor, and dozens of bracelets jingled on her wrists.

“Told you,” I said to Rein, who clasped her hands in front of herself and smiled. She was still at a loss for words.

Helen pulled a business card out of her wallet and handed it to Rein. “Call me tomorrow. I’ll come by before the week is over to pick out a few that I think would look nice alongside the others I already own. Will that be alright with you, dear?”

“Of course,” Rein managed to say. “Thank you so much. I really appreciate this opportunity.”

Helen smiled. “You’re a breath of fresh air, child. The pleasure is all mine.” She swept away, her clothes and shawl billowing around her like a cape. She paused when she reached the door and turned back to us. “You all have a wonderful day now.”

“Bye,” we all called after her.

I put Braxton’s carrier down as soon as the gallery door closed behind Helen. It was a good thing, too, because as soon as I turned back to Rein, she was throwing herself into my arms.

“Did you hear that?” she cried as I spun her around. “She wants to display my work at a gallery in New York City!”

“Oh, I heard.” I laughed before planting a kiss on her lips. “Congratulations, baby. I always knew you just needed the right set of eyes to find you all the way out here in Valdez.”

I set her down, and Rein held her cheeks in her hands. She was bright red with excitement and full of fluttering nerves. It was adorable.

“Congratulations,” Bella said, stepping forward and hugging Rein’s legs.

Rein hugged her back. “Thank you, Bella. Helen saw your painting, too. She said it was turning out really nice. Did you want to keep working on it today?”

Bella nodded. “Yes, please.”

“Okay.” Rein smiled. “Go on then. All your paint and brushes are already laid out for you. Don’t forget to put your apron on.”

“Okay,” Bella called as she hurried down the aisle of easels toward hers in the far corner.

Rein and I watched her tie her apron behind her back and start painting. The entire canvas in front of her was covered in streaks of random colors.

“What do you suppose it will turn into?” I asked Rein under my breath.

She crossed her arms and shrugged. “Who knows? At this point, it could literally be anything. A rainbow. A storm. A jungle. Take your pick.” Rein crouched down and lifted Braxton out of his carrier. “Ugh, you’re getting so heavy.” She bounced him on her hip, and he giggled happily.

“Emmett called shortly before I came over here,” I said. “He invited us for dinner. Are you up for it, or would you rather do something just us to celebrate your success as an up and coming world famous painter?”

Rein shot me a brilliant smile. “Oh please. Quit blowing smoke up my ass.”

“I’m serious. You might be as big as Picasso one day. Or Michelangelo. Crazier things have happened.”

“That’s true. I did marry you, after all.”

“No need to get personal.” I laughed, wrapping an arm around her waist. I kissed her cheek and held her to me as she played with Braxton.

“Dinner at Emmett’s would be great,” she said, resting her head on my shoulder to look up at me. “We’ll leave after Bella is finished with her painting?”

I looked over at my daughter who was now swiping thick streaks of purple paint from one corner of the canvas to the other. “I don’t think she’ll even know when she’s finished.”

Rein chuckled. “No artist ever does.” She handed Braxton back to me. “Let her know she has another fifteen minutes. I want to get cleaned up quickly before we head to Emmett’s.” She showed me her hands, which were covered in splotches of paint.

I wrapped an arm under Braxton’s bottom so he could use it as a seat. “Alright, take your time.”

As Rein went to the kitchenette and began scrubbing her hands and wrists, I walked over to Bella and crouched behind her. Braxton was mesmerized by her painting, and he watched the brush move all over the canvas with wide eyes.

“Good God,” I muttered, “I can’t have three artists on my hands. I need at least one of you to be into business or math. Something I can help you with.”

Bella stopped her painting and looked back at us. She playfully waved the brush in front of Braxton before returning to the canvas. Now the whole thing was almost entirely purple. She put down her big brush and grabbed a tiny white one. She dipped the end of the handle in white paint and began dabbing it on the canvas, leaving tiny white dots on top of the purple.

“Where’d you learn that trick?” I asked.

“Mommy,” she said simply.

“Are they polka dots or something else?”

Bella paused and looked at me like I was an idiot. “No, Daddy, polka dots are bigger. These are stars.”

“Oh,” I said. “I should have known that. You’re painting the night sky, then?”

She nodded and didn’t say anything.

“Do you know any constellations?”

Bella bit her bottom lip and considered my question. “There’s the Big Dipper, and the Little Dipper, of course.”

“Of course,” I agreed, although I was impressed that she knew them.

“I don’t know any other ones.”

“Why don’t you try to paint one of the dippers on your canvas? Then you can title it ‘The Dipper.’”

Bella grinned and nodded. “Okay.”

I watched for the next ten minutes or so while Bella placed dots in places she deemed appropriate to make the Big Dipper—or Little Dipper. On a canvas and not in the night sky, it could be either. When she was done, it didn’t look like the constellation in the sky, but it did look like a connect-the-dots outline of a cooking pot, which in my mind, was pretty damn close to the real thing.

“Good job, Bella,” I praised.

“I want to show Mommy!” She took off her apron and raced to where Rein was standing in the kitchenette.

I stood and took Braxton’s tiny hand between my fingers. “I hope you like sports instead of painting,” I whispered.

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