Epilogue
It’s July again, and we’ve driven down from London for my solo exhibition opening tonight at the Rose Collective.
In the spring, I moved in with him officially into his home.
Our home, now. And Florian’s been leading renovations with Gabe at the Rose over the last few months, slowly but steadily throughout the building, taking care to minimize disruption and keep its character.
As for the collective, they voted to show my work, my beach paintings, this summer as a draw for the season.
I can’t believe I’m here on opening night with Florian, who looks incredible in his suit.
And I’m in mine, the one he got for me last year when we were here a year ago for Paul and Caden’s wedding.
It’s late on Friday afternoon, and the private view’s just begun to celebrate the opening of the show.
I was busy with Noah for a lot of the week, preparing gallery walls by patching pinholes and painting the walls white, and hanging the show with his help and critical eye.
I’ve stayed with him and Raheem here and there to get everything ready.
Arriving today, with fresh eyes, it feels so good to see the show on the wall.
And I’m proud of my work.
I’ve made fifteen Brighton beachfront paintings in my new London studio. It’s a thrill to go there each day and work, even if it’s just a couple of hours. And now, to see the culmination of all that effort is incredible.
I can’t stop grinning.
I’ve been careful not to overdo it. To not be too hard on myself.
To take care of my own mental health, which Gabriel reminds me regularly is more important than anything else.
I’ve seen him in messy times, and he’s also seen me in low points, too, when I struggle.
Gabriel’s here tonight too, having come down with a mate from London.
We visit him regularly. Florian comes often to Glynde with me, and we spend the weekend together in the village with my family, who love him nearly as much as I do.
Tonight, in this room, with all the people who love me and the people I love, is a dream come true. And I let myself take it in.
My parents and the girls are all here. They’re all so proud of me.
Florian’s so proud too. He brings us drinks from the bar—which I’m happy to say I’m not working tonight or sweating it about screwing up.
All my uni friends are here too—Paul and Caden, Noah and Raheem, and Ellie.
Even Johan’s here and Arran too. Michael comes with his parents, who were one of the first tonight to buy a painting.
And people really are buying my paintings. As the evening goes on, small red stickers indicating a sale appear one by one on the display labels.
Plus, there are plenty of strangers, people who came from the community, and tourists to the Laines in Brighton. They’re people who wanted to save the Rose. It turns out they’re all saving me too.
Florian comes to me at the end of the night, letting me have my time to be celebrated. He brings me another glass of champagne, slipping a hand into the small of my back.
“You want to know something?” Florian murmurs into my ear.
I glance at him. “What is it?”
“I love you.”
I beam immediately, giving him a kiss. “I love you too. Honestly, Florian, if it weren’t for you believing in me and my work, I don’t think any of this would have happened.”
“You did this, Matty. It’s all you.” Florian gives me an affectionate grin. “Want to know something else?”
“What else?” I peer at him curiously.
“Your show’s sold out.”
I stare at him, taking a moment to let the words register. Then I blurt out the first words that come to mind, because it doesn’t make sense otherwise. Like he’s gotten me and David Hockney confused. “You didn’t buy all the paintings, did you?”
He laughs and shakes his head, holding his hands up. “Only one. The rest are from people here tonight. And possibly one offshore oligarch to buffer his art vault.” Florian’s eyes dance.
My face warms. And I want to cry again—but joyful tears this time. It’s the best feeling. “Really? Except for the oligarch, that is.”
“Really. Your first sold-out show. Congratulations. Watch out, world.” Florian beams.
I grin at Florian, give him an enthusiastic kiss, and he laughs.
My heart’s thundering and my mind reeling.
A sold-out show is life-changing for an artist. There’s obviously a market.
It’ll open more doors to galleries and new collectors.
It’ll give me the support to build my career as an artist. Someone from a London gallery invites me for a coffee to talk about a possible residency in their studio next year. It’s totally wild.
When the celebration moves on to a nearby pub to carry on with invited guests, it’s really the best feeling. And having Florian here to celebrate with me, to see his hard work on saving the Rose, which has never looked so good, means everything.
As we stand together at the bar, his arms around me, we’re on top of the world together, happy. I lean into Florian, and he leans into me too. The crowd moves around us. People laugh and cheer. There’s a vibrant living world around us, and we’re a small part of it.
Later, we walk down the Brighton waterfront, like we did after Paul and Caden’s wedding.
My heart soars. We’ve seen each other through thick and thin over this past year, learning so much about each other and ourselves.
And this, I must say, is the best night of my life so far.
Of our lives, and all the days and nights to come, our futures are entwined together.