Warm

21

4 YEARS LATER

It's hard to hear their questions over the flickering of cameras. An ocean of flashing lights blinds me and causes my head to spin but I still manage to have a million-dollar smile on my face. The reporters push against the red rope, trying to get a closer look at me. They all scream for me to look, to smile, to answer. Meanwhile, Mateo follows behind me, carrying the long flower-embedded tail of my white dress. He looks rather professional in his all black suit and black shades. Definitely a worthy bodyguard. I avoid his gaze and pleads to slow down, still not over the fact I cleaned the whole house by myself without any of his help.

"Aurora Blanca, I have a question! Aurora Blanca!" A young reporter's voice booms over everyone else's.

"Yes," I reply, coming close to the red rope to hear him. All the reporters went silent to hear my response. They stick their mics in my direction.

He swallows as all the attention focuses on us. "How do you feel to carry on Poppy's legacy? How did it come about?"

Finally, a question that is not absolutely idiotic.

"Well, at first, she disguised herself as an elderly woman. One day, I sold my paintings on the street and they were not selling well but she bought all of them. Then I bumped into her again on an airplane. Later, I found out that she was Poppy dressed as an old lady and she was sizing me up to see if she wanted me to carry on her legacy."

"So how does it feel to be at the opening of your own museum today?"

"Unreal."

Mateo puts his body between the reporters and I. "Enough questions, we are going to be late."

I wave and dazzle my smile at the complaining reporters as Mateo pushes me forward. 

My smile drops when I enter the van. My body collapses on the seat. "There's literal spots in my vision."

"Maybe if you didn't get so close to the camera's it wouldn't be so bad." Mateo takes off his suit and glasses.

My eyes roll as far as the back of my head. "Maybe if you helped me clean I wouldn't feel so tired."

"Can you guys maybe not bicker? I'm trying to drive," Edward says, focused on the road.

"Then tell Mateo to freaking wash the dishes."

Mateo signs. "Fine! I will when we get home. Happy?"

My face splits in a grin. "Very."

He laughs. "You're bipolar."

I ignore his comment and stare out the heavily tinted window.

Today's the day I finally open my own museum. I didn't lie when I told the reporter it felt unreal. It's as if I'm dreaming. All of this is just my imagination. Except it's not, and I'm on my way to cut the red ribbon surrounding a museum named after me. I can't believe I made my dreams come true. Well thanks to Poppy, that is.

I had just quit the job at Delta when Poppy was knocking at my door. Immediately, I recognized her. She was the woman whose art inspired me. She was the woman I wanted to be. And she was standing at my doorstep.

"Aurora, I'm Poppy."

"I know," I breathe out. "Y-Your here. In front of me."

"You look like a mess. What happened?" I hadn't showered in a week. My face and baggy clothes were covered in paint. Poppy continues, "You didn't get him back?"

My gaze hits the floor. How does Keanu manage to be everywhere even when he's on the other side of the planet? "No." Then a thought as hard as a train hits me. "Wait, how did you know about that? We just met."