By some miracle, I manage to get the kids to the door fifteen minutes before seven. Jack looks a little disheveled, Sapphire is overdressed to the max and Maeve insists on wearing sneakers, but I know that Stella will love seeing them this way. She doesn’t mind that they’re never picture perfect, always dressed ‘wrong’ for events and always clashing with one another. She sees them the way I do, perfect because they’re ours, and I couldn’t agree more.
When we make it to the gallery, there are already potential buyers and art enthusiasts everywhere. Despite only painting part time, Stella has created an amazing collection over the past few years, and she’s risen to fame with Sapphire’s help. Sapphire got her set up on Instagram and now here we are, celebrating her art in her own exhibition. She grins when she sees us and greets us all with hugs and kisses.
“My favorite guests,” she says with a smile. She’s always happiest around her family or her art. “You just missed Dad, he was here at opening time. But he says he can’t wait to see you kids tomorrow.”
We have date night once a month where I whisk Stella off somewhere fancy and the kids hang out with their grandpa. Tomorrow, we’re going on a spa date and I can’t wait to spoil her rotten.
“Maybe we can get your Dad to do some of Maeve’s massive stack of homework with her,” I tease, ruffling Maeve’s dark curls. She scowls.
“I don’t want to do homework on a Friday night.”
“Well you always leave it to the last minute, don’t you missy! One day you’ll learn,” Stella says, but she doesn’t sound stern or patronizing. We keep things light in our family. We don’t want to pressure the kids too much. They’ll find their paths themselves, and no doubt Maeve will be an artist, not an academic. She’s like her Mom that way.
“Well, kids...take a look around!”
Sapphire is already heading off on her own, taking pictures for her Instagram. The twins start a game of tag, earning some disapproving glares from the art dealers, but we don’t care much. Stella once pointed out that if they’re too snobby to deal with our kids then they don’t deserve her art, which is focussed on family and love anyway. Our kids are her muse, and the paintings come to life with the love she feels for them.
“What do you think?” Stella asks me anxiously as we walk around together. I kiss her cheek.
“Your best work yet.”
“You say that every time.”
“It’s true, I do. But I mean it every time, you just keep improving. You get older and wiser, my love and your art ages like a fine wine with you.”
“Very poetic,” Stella says, rolling her eyes with a smile. Then sighs. “Sometimes I feel age coming at me so fast. I look at myself and I feel so frumpy and unattractive, that’s why I painted this one.”
We stop in front of a painting that makes me frown. It’s a self portrait of Stella, but she looks old and withered in the picture. She’s only in her mid thirties and yet she sees herself as so much older. I put my arm around her waist.
“You don’t look like that at all, in fact, you’ll never look like that. Not even if you live to be a hundred.”
She smiles at me. “Are you saying my art is inaccurate? Is it bad?” she teases. I tsk.
“Obviously not. I know that the idea is for it to be how you feel inside represented with a picture of your outside, but even so. You might be tired, but you’re not old at heart. We still have so many amazing years ahead of us.”
“So you don’t see me as tired? Decrepit?”
“Of course not,” I growl, kissing her cheek fiercely. “And like I said your art ages like a fine wine, and so do you. You’ll always be the most beautiful woman on this planet to me.”
“Don’t tell Sapphy that. She still wants to be the only beautiful woman on Earth!”
I laugh and we attract some stares, but then again, we always do. After thirteen years together, it’s becoming clearer that I’m much older than she is. Some people think that will be enough to break us apart one day, but I know differently. Our love is going to last forever. It lives on in our kids and it lives on in our hearts. No matter what happens, we’re never going to fall apart.
We spend the evening roaming around the gallery. Some dealers want to buy art, but Stella tells them to get in contact another night. By nine o’clock, the kids are tired and we still have things to do at home, so we call it a night and head back to our penthouse apartment in the city. We’ve always said we’ll move to the suburbs when we’re old, but the kids love the city life and so we’re here for the time being.
Stella makes us dinner while I get Jack in bed, Maeve’s homework finished and Sapphy to turn off her phone for the night. By the time we sit down to eat a light meal, it’s late, but it feels nice to eat in the dimmed lights of the kitchen together. I take her hand under the table.
“You did so well tonight,” I say, and she smiles.
“Thanks, baby.”
“I’m so proud of you everyday. I hope you know that.”
“It’s nice to hear,” she says with a blush. She touches her stomach where our baby is growing. “I think baby number four is going to inspire some more art but for now I want to rest.”
“Then rest, baby,” I say. “Let me take care of you.”
“You already take care of me.”
“You know what I mean, put your feet up, stop working so hard, let me help more with the kids.”
She
