255. Emily - Caged 1

255. Emily - Caged 1
“I want to thank everyone who joined me and–” Mads gazes down at me “–the love of my love,” before his gaze returns to the crowd “–here tonight,” he says as the exhibition for his new painting begins.
He’d told me it would be shown at a city gallery, but what he hadn’t mentioned was that his latest work would be exhibited in one of the most luxurious galleries in all of Veross City.
That Mads has talent is no secret. I knew it from the day he took me on our first date and painted me. But I never imagined that he’s so good. 
Mads introduces me to several people—rich people, I might add—before taking me on a little tour around the gallery to show me his work. Maybe it’s because I’m in love with him, but to me, each painting is beautiful, unique, special. Then we stop in front of a wall where several of his latest works are displayed, and my breath catches in my throat.
The painting in front of me depicts motherhood–from the early stages of pregnancy all the way to when the mother is holding her baby in her arms. I don’t need to ask Mads who he thought about when he was painting these because it’s obvious–me. 
There’s one painting of me holding Roman in my arms as I sit on the rocking chair. Mads sat across from me, not long ago, sketching as I gently rocked Roman to sleep. Another one is of me lying between flowers, looking up at the sky, while my right hand rests on my stomach. 
All the paintings are done in a way you can’t tell it’s me unless you look really carefully. 
“What do you think?” he asks. 
“I have no words to describe how I feel right now. These are the most beautiful paintings I have ever seen,” I reply. 
Mads faces me as he says, “They are yours.” 
“What? No! No! This is too much!” I protest. 
“You think I want others to have these hanging in their houses? No, Moonbean, they are yours. Separated, they mean nothing, but together, they tell a story. Your story.” He points at the only painting that has a sad air about it. “This one is about loss and grieving the children you lost.” 
My heart throbs painfully at that reminder, and Mads presses his lips to my forehead before he continues. “This one over here represents the beginning of a new life.” He keeps pointing at more paintings until he reaches the one with me and Roman. “And this one is when you finally hold your baby in your arms.” 
And I finally understand. 
It isn’t Roman in the painting, but Amara, which, depending on the language, can mean to love or everlasting. But for me, it represents hope and a new beginning. 
A knot forms in my throat, but somehow, I manage to say, “Thank you. This is the most thoughtful gift anyone has given me.” Pointing at the one with Amara, I say, “I want to hang it in your new office.” 
In the coming years, as our family grows, we’ll need more space. Since neither of us wants to move, we came up with a simple solution. Our neighbor plans to sell his house in the next few months, since he can’t stand all the noise the crows that have found a home in our back garden make. We’ve already made him an offer he won’t refuse. This way, we’ll have two houses and a big garden. I’m already planning to grow vegetables and maybe plant a few fruit trees, while the guys are set on building a pool. 
Several moments later, an elderly woman approaches us. By the way she dresses and carries herself, I can tell she’s rich, but not a snob. 
“Matthew, my boy, how have you been?” she asks gently. 
“Mrs. C, glad you could make it,” he says gently before taking her right hand into his and placing a kiss on top of it.
A smile forms on Mrs. C’s lips. “I wouldn’t miss this for anything in the world.” 
Mads places his palm on my lower back. “Mrs. C, let me introduce you to my future wife. This is Emily.” 
My eyes snap in his direction as he says my name. If Mads noticed my reaction, he gives no indications, as he keeps speaking. “Emily, this is Mrs. C. For some reason, she likes my paintings very much.” 
“I do,” Mrs. C confirms. “In fact, I want to buy all of these,” she says, nodding toward the paintings Mads gifted me.
“I’m afraid those are not for sale,” Mads quickly says. “They belong to Emily.” 
Mrs. C studies me for a moment. “I see. In that case, congratulations to you both. I will go buy your other paintings then.” 
After Mrs. C leaves, I turn to face Mads. “You remembered my name!” I say all excited. 
A half grin appears on his face. “Actually, I cheated.” 
“What does that mean?” I wonder. 
Mads shows me the tattoos he got on his knuckles the day after he and the others became blood-brothers. 
On both hands, he has the same runes:
ᛖᛗᛁᛚᛃ.
“Do they mean anything?” I ask.
Mads chuckles. “It spells Emily. The runes are from the Elder Futhark, the system once used by the early Germanic tribes.”
I’d never heard of the Elder Futhark rune system, though I was sure the Germanic tribes spoke Old Norse. So I say, “Don’t tell me you actually speak some dead language.”
Mads shakes his head. “I only learned the runes so I can read them each time I want to write your name.”
I have to admit, that’s sweet. Getting the name of your partner tattooed can be risky, but Mads and I are forever. The same goes for the others. I might get inked soon.
I press my lips to his cheek and whisper, “You’re getting your cock sucked tonight.”
His arm around my waist tightens, a groan escaping his lips. “Can it be now?”
“Here?” I squeal, half in shock, half in laughter.
He buries his face in the crook of my neck. “But I’ve been a good boy.”