Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 78295 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 391(@200wpm)___ 313(@250wpm)___ 261(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 78295 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 391(@200wpm)___ 313(@250wpm)___ 261(@300wpm)
“Holy shit.” I laugh and move out the door, heading down into the chaos. There are manicured lanes between the various outcroppings. Reds, yellows, blues and purples, plants I don’t know and can’t name, all beautiful. “This is what you’ve been up to?”
“I had some help.” He walks with his hands behind his back. “Do you like it?”
“I love it.” I turn to face him. “But why now?”
“I have one more surprise.” He takes my elbow and steers me along the central walkway. Ahead, there’s a small archway made of wood and vines, and underneath is an easel holding a painting, but it’s covered by a cloth.
“Erick. What did you do?”
He plants me in front of the painting and slowly removes the cover. I stare in total shock, unable to comprehend what I’m looking at.
The girl at the piano. Her father’s back to the viewer. Her mother’s face glowing with light.
“I started looking for it the day after your father retired. I knew you’d be hurting from his fake death, and I wanted something to make you feel better after I told you the truth.”
“Erick.”
“It took a lot longer than expected, but I found a lead two days after you told me you were pregnant. It was meant to be, Hellie.”
“Erick. Stop. Wait.”
“It was being kept in a warehouse in Moscow. Cost a small fortune to pry it away from the owners, but money does work wonders sometimes. I suspect this painting has been in storage since the day it was stolen all those years ago.”
“It’s real, isn’t it?” I step forward, heart racing. I can see the differences now, between my version and this one. It’s so obvious to me with hindsight. How could anyone mistake my monstrosity for this piece of divine inspiration?
“It’s real,” he confirms. “The real version. Your copy is floating out there somewhere still, and nobody will ever know about this one. But it’s yours.”
I stand inches from the canvas, staring, my mouth open. It’s incredible, beyond incredible, a small miracle. I turn around to hug him—
But he’s down on one knee.
“Erick,” I say again, feeling dizzy.
“Heloise. Hellie. My devil girl. I love you so much, and I want you to be mine forever, in the same way I’m already yours. Will you marry me?”
I croak. It’s undignified but no other sound comes out. I have to nod, over and over, as he slides the ring onto my finger—a beautiful cluster of shimmering diamonds scattering the desert light.
I pull him up, hug him, and kiss him hard. “I’ll marry you,” I finally say, which makes him laugh, and we kiss until my mouth feels numb, and I’m crying a little bit, surrounded by green that shouldn’t be here, a life growing in my belly, an impossible painting on display for nobody but me and him to enjoy.
“Your father would’ve been proud of you, you know,” Erick says, kissing my neck.
“I agree,” I say, laughing and hugging him. “But you never know, he still might be. Now, let’s get this painting inside before it melts.”
“Sounds good to me.”