May 2040
Candice hadn’t expected Dom’s confession—that she was the reason he had been confident back then. It was one of those moments that caught her slightly off guard… which if being fully honest, was rare now-a-days. The last time, being, when Dom walked into her art gallery of course. The weight of it settling in before she could brush it off with an easy joke. Her smirk softened into something gentler, more genuine.
“You always had it in you, Dom. I just gave you the push.”
She let that sit between them for a second before quirking an eyebrow.
“Though, if that was your peak, you really did set the bar way too high in high school. It’s going to be rough knowing you’ll never top breaking into a museum for me.”
Candice took another sip of her wine, watching him as he spoke about the loneliness piece, his insight into how universal that emotion really was. She nodded along, her gaze lingering on the painting in front of her.
“It’s funny—people don’t like to admit how lonely they feel. Even when everyone feels it at some point.”
Then came his answer to her question.
Love.
Candice’s fingers tapped lightly against the stem of her glass as she listened, absorbing his words in a way that went beyond just talking about the painting. She could picture it—the way he kept himself busy, how he poured himself into his daughters, into his work, into anything that wouldn’t give him too much time alone with his thoughts.
She understood that more than she wanted to admit. She had more than her fair share of moments like that in her own life. After all, he wasn’t alone in shutting the world out.
“That… truly makes sense,” she said finally, nodding. “Sometimes the best way to move forward is just… to keep moving. Until one day, you look up, and things don’t feel so heavy anymore. I mean… the weight of it all is always there… but sometimes it’s helpful to have that person who makes it just a little lighter.”
Her smile returned when he reacted to her gallery plans, teasing his hesitation about standing in the middle of the room.
“Okay, fine,” she conceded with a smirk. “You can stand slightly off to the side. I’ll make sure no one forces you into the spotlight too much. Unless, of course, I change my mind last minute and make you give a speech.”
The playful glint in her eyes made it clear she was only half-joking.
When she told him about how Charlie had asked her out, she could tell he was genuinely entertained by it. The way he smiled, the way his eyes lit up at the story—it was nice. She hadn’t seen him like that in so many years.
“It was like something out of a movie, ironic because we were both working on a movie” Candice admitted, her fingers tracing the rim of her glass absentmindedly. “I mean, how do you not say yes to a guy who literally writes you a love story before you even go on a date?”
Her eyes flickered toward him as he admitted he might need another drink, and she let out a soft laugh.
“I’ll make sure to have one waiting for you on Saturday.” She smiled, then glanced at her watch, sighing as she pushed back her chair. “But for now, I should head out. My babysitter’s great, but I like to pretend I’m responsible and don’t leave my kids with her all night.”
Candice grabbed her clutch and stood up, smoothing out her dress as she gave Dom one last look.
“See you soon, Mr. Lucier-O’Brien. Annnnnd, don’t be late.”
With that, she turned and walked out, her heels clicking softly against the restaurant floor.
Saturday – Clarke-McDowell Gallery Opening Night
If the dinner had been an intimate moment, the gallery was the complete opposite.
The Clarke-McDowell Gallery’s grand opening had become one of the most talked-about events of the season, and it showed. Hundreds of influential people flooded the space—collectors, critics, fellow artists, and the kind of guests who weren’t just attending an art opening but were there to make things happen. Photographers moved through the space, flashes from their cameras illuminating the sleek, modern design of the gallery, while hushed conversations and the clinking of glasses filled the air.
It was exactly the kind of high-profile, high-pressure environment that Candice had spent years perfecting.
And at the center of it all—her father.
Joseph Clarke, one of the most celebrated photographers in the world, was effortlessly charming his way through the crowd. Candice caught glimpses of him talking to a group of younger photographers, gesturing animatedly as they hung onto his every word. He was in his element, as always, and for a moment, she let herself just watch him before turning her attention elsewhere.
Her own entrance had been timed to perfection.
Dressed in an elegant black gown that hugged her frame just enough to be effortlessly striking, her hair styled into a sleek bun, Candice moved through the space with an ease that came with experience. On her arm, Charlie—who, despite being far more at home behind a script than at events like this, had a natural warmth that made people gravitate toward him. Their baby was cradled in his arms, peacefully asleep despite the hum of conversation around them. And her son? Well, he was somewhere in the gallery, fawning over the girl he had been agonizing over for weeks. She supposed that counted as a win.
And then there was Dom.
Candice spotted him near the pieces she had chosen for tonight’s display, looking slightly out of place but not in a bad way. Just… adjusting. She had seen him earlier, talking to a few photographers, shaking hands with collectors—exactly the kind of interactions she had wanted for him tonight.
She approached him with a knowing smile, effortlessly slipping into his space as she extended a drink toward him.
“As you requested,” she said smoothly, offering the glass to him with a teasing glint in her eye. “A drink to survive the night. Just don’t get too comfortable—I will make you work for it.”
Her eyes flickered over him for a moment before she nodded approvingly.
“You clean up well, Mr. Lucier-O’Brien.” She gestured toward the space around them, the sheer energy of the room buzzing in the background. “So, how’s it been so far? I saw you charming a few photographers earlier—should I be concerned that you’re about to take over my gallery?”
Charlie stepped up beside her then, shifting their daughter slightly in his arms as he studied Dom with quiet interest. Candice turned toward them with a smooth ease, never missing a beat.
“You know,” she mused, casting Dom a sideways glance, “I think this is the first time I’ve ever been able to introduce you as the artist at one of these things instead of just my accomplice in on of our many trespassing incidents.”
She gave a soft laugh before motioning between them.
“Darling, this is Dominic. Dom, this is my husband and our little girl.”
Charlie gave Dom a polite but warm nod, his grip shifting slightly to better support their daughter. His expression was relaxed, clearly used to the way Candice maneuvered her way through nights like this.
“So, where’s your husband?” Candice asked casually, taking a sip of her own drink. “Or did he wisely escape the madness before it started?”
Charlie chuckled at that, glancing at Dom with an amused expression.
“If he did, I wouldn’t blame him. I barely made it out myself,” Charlie quipped playfully before adding with an easy grin, “But I have to say, your work is incredible. Candice wouldn’t stop talking about it after your dinner the other night.”
Candice shot her husband a look, but there was no real irritation behind it.
“It was a business dinner,” she corrected smoothly before glancing back at Dom with a smirk. “Though, I suppose I did slightly hype you up. But don’t let it go to your head.”
There was warmth in her voice, a balance of teasing and sincerity that made it clear—she was proud of him.
And tonight? It was just the beginning.