Epilogue
ADDISON
“Don’t think I’ve forgotten. Now, pay up,” Jameson says, holding out his hand.
I groan as I pull out my checkbook. “I can’t believe I’m doing this.”
“A bet is a bet, Addy.”
“You made this bet five years ago. Five years! When Kendall moved to Europe and Patterson was being a complete asshole. She was my best friend, and I’d have bet anything on them never ever, ever, ever getting together. Trust me, she genuinely hated him.”
“Don’t care. I knew what I saw.” Jameson takes the check and studies it, smiling widely. “One million dollars. This is going straight to the foundation. Thank you for your very, very, very generous donation.”
“You didn’t answer my question.” I am not amused by Jameson at all.
He tucks it into his jacket pocket. “I know my brother. We have the same fucking face. I knew he was in love with her before he would admit it to himself. He had to hate her.”
“Because you were an asshole who took her from him.”
“I genuinely liked Kendall.” He shrugs. “Patterson loved her. There’s a big difference.”
“You’re actually the worst. Mom and Dad were right when they said you were the evil twin.”
“Look, you have both mentioned that to me recently. I am not evil. I just don’t put up with either of your shit. There’s a difference.”
I sigh. “I wonder what I did in a past life to get two asshole big brothers.”
He chuckles. “Must’ve been fucking awful. I love you. I’m proud of you. Now, go mingle. You look like the saddest artist on the planet right now.”
“I need some excitement in my life. I’m growing stir-crazy, being in the city,” I tell him, wanting to get away.
Maybe, while my bestie is busy being in love with my favorite brother, I’ll take a summer vacation.
“Then do something about it,” he tells me. “What’s stopping you?”
I open my mouth to say something, but I don’t have any words. “Thank you for a spoonful of truth this evening. You’re a buzzkill, Jamie.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment. Now, if you excuse me, there’s a hot redhead by the bar I’m going to chat with.”
“Have fun,” I tell him, watching him walk away.
Five years ago, I would’ve bet my trust fund that Patterson and Kendall would never end up together. The hate was real. So were the tears. And apparently, a kiss they had years ago. Had I known about that, I’m not sure I would’ve bet my evil big brother.
I grab a fresh glass of champagne from a passing server and let my eyes wander around the gallery.
Everyone is pairing off. Everyone has their person.
I take a long sip of champagne.
“You look like you’re concentrating.”
I turn my body to find a tall, handsome man standing beside me.
And he smells really fucking good. He has dark, messy hair and blue eyes that look like they’ve caused a lot of heartbreak.
His tuxedo fits him like it was tailored by gods, and he’s staring at me like I’m the most interesting thing in the room.
“Maybe I am,” I say.
“Really? What’s on your mind?” He takes a glass of champagne from a passing server.
“World peace,” I tell him.
“Hilarious,” he says with a smirk. “What’s your favorite collection in here?”
“You ask that like you already have an answer.”
“I do.” He nods toward the wall. “This one. The subway series has captured me, and I’ve not been able to walk away from it.”
I sip my champagne and keep my expression bored. I’m convinced he doesn’t know I painted it. “Really? There are plenty of incredible artists in the gallery tonight.”
“Sure, but this has me mesmerized.” He takes a sip.
“It’s almost like the artist painted people who had no idea anyone was watching.
It’s almost intrusive, like pieces of their souls were stolen and put on canvas.
You can almost feel what each individual was carrying with them, all the weight of their life that they thought was invisible.
I would’ve purchased the entire collection if someone hadn’t beaten me to it. ”
“Oh. That’s a shame,” I say.
“It’s a tragedy. I’m very bitter about it.” He says it like he actually means it.
“I’m partial to this collection as well,” I admit, almost sad to let it go. However, the money earned will be donated to charity, which makes me happy.
He clinks his glass against mine. “You have excellent taste.”
“Or maybe you have basic tastes.” I challenge him.
He laughs. “Thanks for the honesty.”
“Anytime.”
He doesn't look offended. He seems entertained. “What do you see when you look at these paintings?”
“Life. I don’t see people in vulnerable states. I see emotions in color. Anyone can paint a face, but the eyes are where the truth lies.”
He tilts his head at me, intrigued. “I think the best art evokes emotion and tells a story without words.” He pauses.
“There’s beauty in that, but I’d also argue some things are universally beautiful and don’t need interpretation, like sunsets and the ocean.
” He glances down at himself. “A man in a well-tailored suit.”
“Humble.” I roll my eyes.
“Always.” He grins and extends his hand. “I’m Louis.”
“Addison.”
“Nice to meet you.” He clinks his glass against mine and takes a sip.
He’s quiet for a moment, studying me like I’ve said too much.
“What?” I ask, wondering if I was too animated.
“Nothing.” He shakes his head. “I wasn’t expecting to have the most interesting conversation of my year tonight.”
I relax. “Life is full of surprises.”
“It certainly is.” He smiles, and it’s different from before. Less polished. “I have a feeling you’re full of them.”
“Oh, you have no idea.”
There’s something about his accent that catches my attention. I’ve been so focused on what he was saying that I didn’t really clock it until now.
“Where are you from?” I ask.
He has that formal European thing going on, but up close, there’s something different about it.
“Guess.”
“The UK?”
He looks genuinely offended. “I’m not British.”
“You kinda sound British.”
He scoffs. “The country I’m from has been speaking French since the thirteenth century. We’re Mediterranean.” He adjusts his cuffs like I insulted his entire bloodline. “The British wish they sounded this good.”
“All I’m hearing is fancy European.”
“And all I’m hearing is American ignorance, but I’m too polite to say so.”
I laugh, surprised by his bluntness. Most men at these events are too busy trying to impress me, but not him. “Did you just call me ignorant?”
“I said I was too polite to say it.” He grins. “There’s a difference.”
“It’s the inference that I’m offended by.”
We stand there for a moment, neither of us speaking as the electricity buzzes between us. The gallery noise fades away. Somehow, I feel like I’ve known him for longer than five minutes.
“I’ve never met someone quite like you,” he says, his eyes dropping to my lips for a second before returning to my gaze.
“That’s a terrible line,” I say, sipping my champagne.
“It’s an observation.” He tilts his head. “You don’t seem impressed by me.”
I give him the most sarcastic look. “Should I be?”
“Most people are.”
“Women just fall to kiss your feet?”
“In a way, yes,” he says. “But not you.”
Before I can respond, Princess Delphine appears at my elbow. “Addison, there you are. I’ve been looking everywhere for you.” She glances at Louis. “There you are! Great! Glad to know you’ve already met my brother.”
I blink. “Your brother?”
“Prince Louis Adrian of the Montclaire Dynasty.” Delphine gestures at him like she’s presenting a museum exhibit. “Heir to the throne. Professional pain in my ass.”
I stare at him. “You’re a royal?”
He shrugs like it’s nothing. “Surprise.”
“You, uh … I—should I curtsy to you? Is that how this works?” I ask.
Louis laughs, and it’s genuine. “Absolutely not. I hate the attention here.”
His phone buzzes in his pocket, and he glances at the screen before sighing. “I have to take this.”
I turn to Delphine with wide eyes. “I didn’t recognize him.”
“Well, he seemed to be enjoying the conversation, which is very rare for him.” She loops her arm through mine. “Apologies in advance if he was being a dick. He usually doesn’t know how to act around normal people. Prince complex.”
“He was perfectly normal,” I tell her.
“I really doubt that. I know how he gets around pretty Americans.” She gives me a knowing look, and then her expression shifts to something more serious. “I need to talk to you about something. Will you walk with me?”
She leads me away from the crowd to a secluded part of the gallery.
“I have a proposition for you,” she says.
“Okay,” I say, intrigued.
“You know the royal family has had the same portrait artist for five decades—Henri Beaumont. He painted my grandparents, my parents, Louis and me as children.”
“I’ve seen his work. He is a master.”
“Yes. He was incredible, but he passed away three months ago.”
“I’m so sorry.”
“Thank you.” She takes a breath. “My parents, the king and queen, are searching for a replacement. They’ve organized a competition.
Ten artists, invited to the castle to compete for the position.
The winner becomes the official royal portrait artist and will be given a special project.
It’s one of the highest honors in our country. ”
My heart beats faster. “That sounds incredible.”
“All expenses paid. A cottage on the property for the duration of the competition. Access to the royal collection for inspiration,” she says.
“Why are you telling me this?”
“Because I want to invite you.” She meets my eyes. “The only way to be considered is if a member of the royal family extends an invitation. It’s that exclusive. And I’d like to extend one to you.”
A chill runs up my spine, and goose bumps cover my arms. This is an opportunity artists dream about having. The kind that changes careers and lives.
“Why me?” I ask.
“Because I’ve been following your artwork for the past five years, and I love everything you’ve created. I selfishly want you to paint the family. And I think we could be friends,” she says.
“Aw,” I tell her.
“Please say you’ll think about it.” She squeezes my arm. “You’re incredibly talented, Addison. And you would be the only woman competing. There is one more thing.”
“Yes?” I ask.
Movement catches my eye across the gallery. Patterson and Kendall emerge from a hallway, looking flushed, like they put their clothes on in a hurry. Kendall’s lipstick is smeared, and Patterson’s shirt is untucked. Some things never change.
“I need to know tonight before I leave. I know it’s short notice, but I wanted to see this gallery before extending the invitation. I’m impressed,” she offers.
I look around the room, and it feels like everyone in my life has something. Someone. A direction. Right now, I’m going with the flow, but I’ve also spent the last five years playing it safe.
I turn to Delphine and smile. “I’ll take the opportunity.”
“You don’t want to think about it a little longer?”
“No,” I tell her.
Her face lights up, and she pulls me into a hug. “We’re going to have so much fun. Can you be on a plane next week?”
Across the room, Louis catches my eye. He’s finished his phone call, and he’s watching me with an expression I can’t quite read. Maybe he’s curious or interested, but I feel the danger behind it.
“Absolutely,” I say, still looking at him.
Delphine follows my gaze and grins like she knows something I don’t. “Oh, this is going to be interesting.” Someone calls her name, and she squeezes my hand. “I’ll send you all the details. Soon, I’ll be saying, Welcome to Montclaire, Addison Cross.”
She disappears into the crowd, and Patterson and Kendall make their way over to me. They look thoroughly fucked and are trying to pretend they weren’t somewhere together.
“You two look like you just turned each other inside out,” I tell them.
Kendall grins without an ounce of shame. “We’re going to go home and finish something we started.”
“Gross,” I say, but then I laugh. “Have fun. Oh, before you go, I have news.”
“You’re pregnant?” Kendall asks.
“Ew. No. I got a job opportunity,” I say.
“Tonight?” Kendall’s eyes widen, and she’s bouncing with excitement for me.
I lower my voice. “Princess Delphine invited me to compete for a position as the royal portrait artist. At the castle. In Montclaire. I leave next week.”
“Addison, that’s amazing!” Kendall hugs me tight. “I’m so proud of you.”
“Stay away from Prince Louis,” Patterson interrupts, his brow furrowing.
I make a face at him. “Why?”
“Because he’s a man-whore.” He crosses his arms. “I’m serious.”
“You’re being weird and protective,” I tell my brother.
“We’re friends. He’s, like, eight years older than you,” Patterson says. “And he’s charming. Princey will use you and then lose you. Then I’m going to have to kick his royal ass.”
“Are you telling me he’s literally Prince Charming?” I ask, waggling my brows at him.
This nearly sets him off.
“No, no, don’t get him started,” Kendall says, putting her hand on his arm. “Pattycakes, you’re not going to have to kick anyone’s ass because Addison isn’t going to fall for it. She’s literally immune to fuckboys. She eats them for breakfast.”
“That’s right. Thank you,” I say to Kendall with a polite nod.
“I’ll always have your back,” she tells me.
Then I glare at my brother. “Have faith, Patty. Ugh. Always gotta be the big brother.”
“I know how he is,” Patterson tells me. “He will hurt you.” It’s not a maybe. He’s direct with his words.
“Anyway, we’re heading out. I’ll call you,” Kendall says, dragging my brother away.
As they walk away, Patterson’s arm wrapped possessively around Kendall’s waist, I watch them go. They’re so happy. They’re going to get their happily ever after.
I turn back to the gallery. The crowd is thinning now, and the night is winding down. I’m excited about what I agreed to.
Louis catches my eye from across the room. He raises his champagne glass in a silent toast, and I raise mine back.
“See you in Montclaire, Princey,” I mutter as I take a sip of my drink.
Next week, I’ll be in Montclaire, competing in a painting competition, with a playboy prince who’s too charming for his own good.
I may be going with the flow, but this man feels like a current.