Chapter Twenty-Six
Taylor
As a limousine carries us toward the gallery for Seth’s mother’s show, snow falls like glitter shaken from the sky, as if the city itself decided to dress up for Belinda’s big night.
I’ve never been in a limo before, and I’ve secretly questioned the pretentiousness of them.
But now I understand why Seth makes these arrangements for his family.
It’s not the luxury he craves. It’s the closeness with the people he loves.
Belinda and Charles sit across from us, holding hands, as they chat with everyone and between themselves.
It’s no wonder Seth is so openly affectionate with me.
He grew up surrounded by love shown in ways that don’t rely solely on words but on shared glances, warm embraces, quiet support, and playful teasing.
His family is steeped in it. Wells and Victory are heckling Sutton and Flynn, and Clay is whispering something to Pepper that’s making her blush.
Noah and Becca are giving Clay a hard time, while Seth’s grandparents, Bradshaw and Lara, charm my father with tales of Alaska.
My father has been so lively tonight, it’s like the Bradens breathed new energy into him, the same way Seth has done for me.
Seth squeezes my hand as we approach the gallery and leans in, whispering, “Is it bad that as much as I love my family, I wish I had you all to myself tonight?”
Something tender blooms in my chest. Before I can reply, he steals a kiss, and the limo slows, headlights sweeping over an enormous crowd lining the sidewalk.
“Looks like something’s happening next door,” Belinda says, leaning forward to get a glimpse.
Flashbulbs go off outside her window, and she leans back. “Goodness.”
Charles chuckles. “I think that something is you, honey.”
“Don’t be silly,” she says as the driver parks and gets out to open her door.
The driver is holding an umbrella for her to step beneath.
“Thank you,” my mother says. “But I like the snow. I don’t need an umbrella.”
I smile at that, because there’s nothing pretentious about this family.
Everyone looks gorgeous, yet not one of them is dressed to the nines.
There’s no doubt that tonight’s celebration has nothing to do with status and everything to do with honoring a woman whose life has revolved around her family, while giving back in her own creative way.
As his mother climbs out of the limo, cameras flash, the crowd presses forward, and reporters shout from behind a cordoned-off walkway in front of the gallery: “Mrs. Braden! Over here! Can we get your picture?” “This is your first gallery show. What inspired it?” “What would you like to say to your fans?”
Belinda blinks, startled but gracious. “Fans?” she asks as we all file out of the limousine. “Fans of what?”
“Fans of yours, Mom,” Seth says, his voice threaded with pride.
“Well, isn’t that nice?” Belinda says with surprise.
She recovers quickly, turning a warm smile on the reporters.
“Mother Nature has gifted us a beautiful world, and the Wild Habitat Collective has always been near and dear to our hearts. The Collective funds research, education, and conservation to help keep the world’s ecosystems alive, and I hope my photographs tell the stories of a world worth saving. ”
The crowd eats it up. Flashes go off in rapid succession as reporters pepper her with more questions. Beside her, Charles stands with a hand on her lower back, happy to give her the limelight, showing me exactly where his son learned that quiet support.
Seth is watching his mother with so much love it’s palpable. He slides his arm around my waist and says, for my ears only, “Look at her shine.”
I can’t. I’m too busy watching you be happy for her.
Belinda thanks the reporters and moves to step aside, but Seth calls out, “Hawk, can you get a few shots of our whole family?”
Amid the flurry of photographers, a bearded man with light brown hair and multicolored glasses steps forward, giving Seth a confirmatory nod, and I get my first glance of renowned photographer Hawk Pennington.
Flashes pop as the Braden clan fans out across the sidewalk, laughing and joking as everyone tries to squeeze in.
Clay tugs Pepper closer, Wells holds an umbrella up for Victory, which she swats away, just like her mother, and Sutton links arms with Flynn, while Noah jokes about needing a date.
Belinda and Charles stand at the center, surrounded by the culmination of their love, the legacy they built together, and soon, by many of the lives they’ve touched.
I try to slip outside the group, but Seth tightens his grip, pulling me closer, and says, “Smile, sweetheart. We’re about to let the world know you’re taken.”
My heart stumbles, and then he calls out over the commotion, “Frank! Becca! Get in here. You’re family, too.”
My father waves a hand. “We’re good right here.”
“Like heck we are,” Becca says, grabbing his arm and hauling him forward with a grin.
They squeeze in beside me. Becca slips her hand into mine as the cameras start flashing again and whispers through her smile, “You love this family already, don’t you?”
“Shh,” I say, smiling as flashes pop and snow drifts around us. “Don’t jinx it.”
Despite the snow blanketing the city, nearly two hours later there’s still standing room only in the gallery.
Voices carry, glasses clink, and praise for Belinda’s gorgeous photographs is woven into every conversation as people move from room to room admiring amber sunrises with animals silhouetted in the desert, misted jungles steeped with wildlife, the shimmer of birds flying over distant shores, and dozens of other vivid sights.
Belinda has spent the evening hugging colleagues and friends, shaking hands with fellow wildlife enthusiasts, and smiling so bright she lights the room.
Every few minutes someone stops her to tell her how her photographs moved them, and though most of the photographers have left, Hawk is still here, as Seth had requested, capturing candid shots for an album Seth and I are going to make for each of his family members.
Becca and I overheard his mother asking a few people how they heard about the event.
Luckily, nobody has given away her children’s secret.
“If I didn’t know better,” I say to Seth, “I’d think your mom has been doing this her whole life.”
“She’s unflappable,” Becca says.
“That’s because she has been doing it her whole life. Just not in galleries,” Seth says. “No matter where we lived, she made it a point to become part of the community. I think that’s how we all learned to get along with anyone, anywhere.”
“She looks like she’s on a mission right now.” Becca nods in Belinda’s direction as she hurries over to her friend Patsy, a vibrant woman who looks to be in her mid to late fifties, with shoulder-length auburn hair streaked with silver.
We met Patsy earlier, and I instantly liked her. She’s the kind of person who can organize a storm and make you thank her for the rain.
Belinda leans in with a mischievous expression and says something that has Patsy glancing across the room at our father.
“Are you guys seeing this?” Victory asks as she joins us with Sutton and Aubrey.
“Looks like matchmaking to me,” Aubrey says.
“Sure does,” Sutton says, and looks at me and Becca. “Your dad has that whole grumpy-hot thing going on.”
“You only think it’s hot because Flynn was so ornery when you first met him,” Seth says.
Sutton rolls her eyes. “Flynn’s still ornery, and he’s a whole different kind of hot.”
We watch Belinda and Patsy head over to my father. His entire face lights up, he stands taller, and what is that smile? He shifts closer to Patsy and says something that makes her and Belinda laugh. “Is he flirting?”
“Go, Dad,” Becca says.
“I’ve never seen Dad flirt before,” I say.
“I have,” Becca says. “Whenever we go to clubs, he chats up the ladies.”
“I don’t know if I should be happy or worried,” I admit.
Seth squeezes me against his side. “Be happy for him, sweets.”
“I meant worried for Patsy. You know how he is.”
“Patsy can hold her own,” Victory says. “She’s a New Yorker, and she’s the reason our mom never missed a deadline. She’s tougher than anyone in this room. Maybe even your dad.”
“Then this should be interesting,” I say.
“Your dad and my grandfather are cooking up a fishing trip in Alaska,” Seth says.
“Are you kidding?” I ask. “Can you imagine the trouble those two could get into?”
“It’ll be legendary, and don’t worry, sweetheart, we’ll be right there to make sure he’s safe and doesn’t wear himself out.” He leans in for a kiss, and I revel in the fact that he knows I’d have to go, too.
Noah sidles up to the group, phone in hand, grinning like he’s about to drop news no one asked for. “Have you guys seen the new it couple?”
He turns his phone toward us, and we all lean in to see a high-society social page with a picture of me and Seth kissing on our way into the gallery with the headline Braden Billionaire Steps Out with Brunette Beauty at Mother’s Gallery Opening. Are Wedding Bells Next?
“Wedding bells?” I exclaim. “That’s what they jump to?”
Seth chuckles.
“Headlines sell,” Aubrey says.
“Social media’s blowing up,” Noah says. “Half the city’s wondering who you are.
The other half wants to be you. Listen to these headlines: Gallery Gala or Engagement Preview?
Fans Need to Know and Billionaire Seth Braden is Off the Market—Fans Mourn, Family Cheers.
And my favorite, Goodbye, Forbes List. Hello, Heartthrob Hubby. ”
We all laugh.
“You’re killing the internet, man,” Noah says as a video call rings through on his phone. “Hey, it’s Zev.”
He answers the call right in the middle of all of us, and I say to Becca, “That’s their cousin, the treasure hunter.” When Zev and his now-wife Carly first discovered a sunken pirate ship off the coast of Silver Island, Seth had me order a commemorative plaque for them.