Your heels click on the tile as you meander from one photo exhibit to the next. Black and white, tilt shift, long exposure, your brief stint experimenting with motion blur. After a year of dreaming and photographing anything and everything, another six months of creative development, another nearly full year of planning and headaches over minutae, and yet another six months of jumping through hoops with building inspectors and landlords, your photo gallery grand opening had been far more successful than you'd expected. You had already sold four series' and gotten two commissions and the evening was far from over. Now you're taking a moment to enjoy your own work: wandering through Central Park in all its seasons, the city streets buzzing with nightlife or bustling with the day-to-day.
You catch yourself smiling at a photo, backlit by a golden sunset, of a little girl in a knit cap and winter coat being lead down a cobblestone street by her father. He's holding both of her hands as she negotiates the pavement on wobbly legs. Maggie had taken her first steps that night when the three of you got back home.
Another catches your eye: a mother and daughter, rendered in black and white, making sweeping snow angels, sheer joy apparent on their faces. That was this past Christmas. Sebastian was determined to get you in front of the camera if only to get another picture of you with your daughter. He actually had quite an eye.
Finally, you come to the guest-artist exhibit.
"I just love these two." You hear a woman sigh to a man you assume is her husband, "The shot down the aisle over the groom's shoulder where you can see the excitement on the bride's face. Then the other way around. You can just feel their love." She leans her head on his shoulder as he rests a hand on her waist.
It's been nearly three years since the wedding, but that moment will always be fresh in your memory.
.
.
.
"Dad, I think I hear Maggie."
"Your mother has her, don't even worry about it." He soothes,
"But what if she's hungry?"
"You just fed her. I can assure you, she will be absolutely fine until after the ceremony." He kisses the crown of your head, careful not to muss your hair, and you take a deep breath as the last of the bridesmaids heads down the aisle ahead of you.
Your march begins. The guests stand and turn your way.
You're acutely aware of all eyes on you, vaguely registering the shutter clicks behind you and the tug on your arm as you're escorted down the aisle by your father. But everything quickly melts away when you catch Sebastian's eye.
He smiles at you wider than you think you've ever seen, but also wears a look of awe you've only seen on him once before. The day Maggie was born.
Somehow you make it to the front. Somehow you follow the service over the sound of your heartbeat in your ears.
Somehow you speak. Untangling your tongue and steadying the excitement that threatens to steal your voice. Somehow you say the only two words that could possibly make Seb's smile any brighter,
"I do."
.
.
.
"If I may, the subject herself is here." Marcus tells the woman fawning over his pictures. The feeling of being the center of attention pulls you from your memories.
"Oh, aren't you the gallery owner?"
"I am." You say, trying your best not to duck your head and blush.
"All the work is hers as well," Marcus cuts in, "with the exception of these few."
A week after the wedding, you had gotten a call from Marcus telling you about a studio space that would be up for lease sometime in the following months. He successfully led you to your own studio, assisted in your planning, and to your relief: kept a respectful and professional distance.
"It's the least I could do for an old friend." You pat him on the shoulder.
"Where is the groom this evening?" The woman asks, and before you can answer, a small voice calls from behind you,
"Mommy!" You hear the tiny pattering footsteps before you turn around to scoop up your daughter. Sebastian is following close behind, carrying Maggie's shoes and her favorite stuffed giraffe.
"Oh! And a little one!" The woman gasps, "She's beautiful."
"Thank you." You say as Margaret drapes over you, hiding her face shyly in your neck. "And here comes the groom." You chuckle, feeling Sebastian sidle up beside you.
Marcus makes the introductions and if either of the couple recognizes Sebastian, they don't mention it. The conversation quickly turns into business talk, leading to a potential job for Marcus,
"I think Magpie's had it." Seb tells you softly as Maggie rubs her eyes.
You excuse yourself smoothly and make the rounds one final time, thanking everyone for coming, before taking your leave.
.
.
.
Back home, you drop to the couch with a deep sigh, Maggie crawling into your lap.
"Mommy! Mommy, Mommy." She tugs on your arm. Somewhere on the road back home, she caught a second wind and now she wouldn't go to bed.
"What is it, hon?" You yawn, eyes falling closed.
"Are you sleepy?"
You nod, head resting on your fist,
"Is the baby sleepy?"
You smirk in spite of yourself, gathering your little girl into your arms, a snug fit against your baby bump.
"The baby is very sleepy."
"You should be too, you little ninja." Sebastian says, entering the living room, having changed for bed.
"No!" She whines, scrambling to hug you so he doesn't take her back to her room.
"Margaret. It's bedtime. You need to go back to sleep." He says firmly,
"No!"
He sighs, flopping down next to you,
"Okay." He scoots closer to the two of you and starts to sing,
"Hai luluțu. Dormi un picu'..."
"No sleep, Tati." Maggie continues to whine through a yawn,
"Dragul mamii, puiuț micu'..." He smooths her hair back, his tone soft. She rubs her eyes, quickly wilting against you as he continues to sing.
You're not sure how long you sleep before Seb wakes you up with a kiss to the forehead, but Maggie is already tucked into her crib, out like a light.
"I guess I don't know the strength of my powers." He jokes, still leaning over you,
"Just be careful, with great power... Something something." You mumble, eliciting a chuckle from him. He kisses you softly. Deeply. Pressing you back into your seat. He threads an arm behind your back as yours wind around his shoulders. When he starts to pull away, you lean with him, chasing his lips.
He chuckles again, lifting you off the couch before he breaks the kiss,
"You should be in bed too. Both of you." He flattens his hand on your rounding lower belly, smile shining in his eyes.
"This baby doesn't want to sleep either." You whine, leaning against him. He leads you down the hall, past photos from your wedding, the honeymoon in Australia, a few candid photos of Maggie and Seb (and even a few including you) on various film sets, and the newest frame: your recent sonogram.
He lays you down carefully, speaking to your stomach,
"Don't make me sing to you too, now."
You giggle, combing your fingers through his hair as he kisses your bump.
"We're doing okay, right?" He finally asks with a sigh,
"You and me?" You look at him surprised,
"No," he laughs, "with Maggie. We're doing alright... Right?"
"Oh," you let out a relieved chuckle, pulling him up to you, "yeah... I mean, I think we are. We're not perfect, but are we supposed to be?" He curls himself around you as you speak, "Where's this coming from?" You finally ask.
"I don't know... I guess I just keep worrying that I'm gonna do something wrong and ruin her for life."
You almost chuckle before you realize he's being serious. You turn in his arms to look him in the eye,
"You must not see what I see when you're with her." You nuzzle under his chin as he holds you tighter, "Your job as her father is to love her and keep her safe, right?"
"Yeah..." He shrugs,
"Then guess what?"
"Hmm?"
You pull back and look at him again, "You're doing more than alright."
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
Why are you still reading?
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
This isn't a Marvel movie.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
Fanfics don't have Easter eggs.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
No. Really.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
Okay, fine.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
*click*
That probably marks three dozen pictures already, but you just can't get over the scene.
"That was better! Try to keep your eyes open this time, though." Sebastian laughs.
He makes sure your son is ready before tossing him the ball again. Try as he might, your four-year-old just can't keep his eyes open when the ball is coming at him. It glances off the edge of his glove.
"Tati, nu pot!"
"Yes you can do it! It's already closer, you can get it." Seb calls again as he winds up to throw another underhand-pitch.
"Maybe if you stopped throwing like a girl." You taunt, making little Owen giggle.
"You make that sound like a bad thing." Seb calls back to you.
"I want to try!" Maggie yells, running out into the yard, nearly tackling Sebastian. Soon enough, he's talking her through how to throw.
You watch your kids play catch as your husband comes to sit behind you on your porch steps. He watches over your shoulder while you continue snapping pictures.
You frame Owen just right to capture his determination, eye on the ball, tongue sticking out, reaching his glove as high as he can.
Your finger slips when Sebastian nips at your neck.
You get a fabulous picture of the grass.
"Really?" You gripe when the picture loads, "That was gonna be such a great one!"
He just shrugs and chuckles at you. As you turn to scold him you both hear a dull thump. You whip your head around just as Owen starts to cry, dropping his glove and holding his forehead. He runs straight to you. Followed closely by Maggie calling after him with a steady string of apologies.
By the time you get him to look up, he already has a goose egg forming above his right eye.
Maggie tries to lean forward to kiss it, but Owen pushes her away with a whine,
"I'm sorry Owen! It was an accident!" She insists, on the verge of tears herself.
"It's okay, you're okay, right Owen?" You ask him as you start to rock, he shakes his head and snuggles closer to you with a whimper.
"Oh, I know!" Maggie announces, "I can make you feel better!" She kneels beside you two on the step and starts to hum before singing,
"Haida nani nani, puișorul mamii. Domi in leganuț, puișor drăguț."
Owen sniffles, wiping his nose on his sleeve as Maggie finishes her lullaby.
"Will you play again now?" She finally asks him. Before you can blink, he's out of your lap, tagging Maggie, and running back into the house.
"Hey! I wasn't ready!" She yells, running after him,
"Too bad! Esti o!"
You laugh with Sebastian, still sitting on the porch, while you listen to surprised squeals and the thumping of feet through the house,
"You know what?" He says pulling you back against him,
"Hmm?"
"I think we did good." He kisses your cheek,
"Da, am făcut. We did." You lean back into his embrace with a sigh, "We are."
He nods, his chin on your shoulder,
"Te iubesc, inima mea." He breathes.
"I love you too."
