“There she is!” a voice booms, and half a dozen of my coworkers from the Cleveland Community Foundation crowd around me. After a round of hugs and “congratulations!” that leave me a little breathless, my boss, Tom, a kindhearted man in his fifties, shakes my hand. “I knew you were a talented lawyer, but an artist too? I’m stunned.”
“How did you not know Cass was an artist?” blurts Rosie, our intern. “Didn’t you ever see that one video that was all over the Internet a couple years ago? The one that was taken right outside? Cass is famous!”
Tom’s eyes widen. “Wait, you’re Coma Girl?”
There was a time when the moniker would have stung. But ever since my interview with Charlotte went viral, along with the cell phone video of me and Perry kissing, the name has taken on a whole new meaning, one that’s near and dear to my heart. Because if it weren’t for my coma, I never would have met the love of my life, found my true purpose, or helped him save his business, which is now the most renowned flower shop in the state of Ohio. “That’s me.”
The next half hour passes by in a blur of handshakes and introductions, well-wishes and thanks. And through it all, Perry never leaves my side. He guides me through the room, his hand at the small of my back, stealing kisses when no one is looking.
An art critic for the Plain Dealer introduces herself, and asks me a series of questions, jotting my responses in a little notebook. I excuse myself when I spot Devin and Mercedes walking into the gallery. Her strawberry blond hair is cut shorter now and it’s wavier, less styled—not the perfectly smooth sheet it was when we first met. Her pale blue dress swishes around her thighs as Devin takes her coat.
“There’s the woman of the hour,” says Devin. Grinning at Perry, he gives me a one-armed hug.
“And here’s the man of the hour,” I say. “This never would have happened if it weren’t for you.”
Devin shrugs, his smile as charming as ever. “Hey, after all the money came in from the talk show circuit we did, how could I not buy this place—through a secretly created LLC, of course, so Dad wouldn’t find out and scuttle the sale. And turning it into an artists’ cooperative with a gallery and studio space only felt right, given everything you did for Perry and me.” Slipping his arm around Mercedes, he squeezes her hip, and she smiles up at him.
A caterer approaches us, holding a tray. “Champagne, anyone?”
Perry hands one to Devin and me, but when he reaches for two more glasses, Mercedes waves him off. “None for me, thanks.”
I look at her sharply. “You’re not drinking? Wait… are you…” I stare at her belly, searching for a bump.
“No.” She laughs. “But…” She gazes up at Devin, who nods encouragingly. “We started trying.”
“Oh my God, guys! That’s so exciting! I won’t say congratulations, since there’s nothing to congratulate… yet… but I’m so happy for you.”
“Thanks,” says Devin. “Our therapist agrees we’re in a really good place, and we’re both ready, so why not give it a go? On purpose, this time,” he adds, kissing her sweetly.
I raise my champagne. “Cheers to futures full of possibility.”
“Cheers,” they echo. We clink, and the smoldering look Perry gives me over his glass makes my calves tense and my toes curl inside my boots.
Three hours later, the gallery is mostly empty. Brie finds me chatting with my mom in the corner and gives me one last hug. “Marcus and I are heading out. Congrats again.”
“Thanks, Brie.”
“Enjoy the rest of your evening.” Dropping her chin, she slides a sly look to Perry. He’s kneeling on the floor on the other side of the room with Jackson hanging off his back while Liam yanks his arm in an apparent two-on-one wrestling match. They’re all laughing. My chest fills with warmth.
“Bye, Mel,” she says as she backs away.
“Good night,” Mom calls back. Sighing, Mom checks her watch. “It’s getting late, and I should get the boys to bed.”
“Thanks again for coming, Mom. It means a lot.”
She pats my cheek. “I wouldn’t have missed it for the world. You’ve got a good one there, by the way,” she says, nodding at Perry. “You’re lucky to have each other.”
My responding smile comes straight from my soul. “I know.”
After Perry and I say goodbye to my family, he slings an arm over my shoulder. “Ready to go home, Ms. Artiste?”