Shonee’s POV
The cool, crisp evening air greeted my exposed legs first as Vincent extended a hand to help me out of the car.
Cameras flashed and I suddenly had to shield my eyes from the bright light. “I didn’t know the paparazzi was going to be here.”
“They’re the vultures of social events, Shonee,” Vincent responded. “Even if they weren’t invited, they’ll find a way to show up.”
Staying at Vincent and Mirasol’s side, security guided us up to the gallery entrance where some dignitaries stood, greeting and welcoming guests. One of them I recognised as Prof. Amalas Clinton, the head of the Visual Art Department. As we approached, her lips expanded into a broad smile.
“Mr. Vincent Beckham, such a wonderful surprise to see you here.” She extended a hand.
“Well, I wasn’t going to miss my daughter’s first performance,” Vincent answered, shaking her hand.
“Right, and it’s all thanks to brilliant Shonee, here.”
Curiosity touched Vincent’s features. “You know her?”
“Oh yes, of course. Shonee was one of my best students.” The elderly woman gave me a firm handshake. “You look amazing, dear.”
“Thank you,” I grinned. “And congrats on the promotion. Head of department suits you.”
“The title does, but I’m not so sure about the work,” She cackled, ushering us into the building. We shook hands with the other dignitaries before mingling with the crowd. This was probably the busiest I have seen this place. The once-empty gallery was now filled to the max with people, all eager to see this brand-new section. Soft music wafted out of the speakers, mixing with the ever-buzzing chatter of tête-à-têtes.
“Any sight of your orchestra friends, Mirasol?” Vincent asked, holding her violin case.
“No.” She slowly shook her head. “Oh look, there’s Fred!” Without waiting for us, Mirasol scuttled off in his direction. Good thing we were only a few paces close by.
Fred had just set Mirasol down from a hug when we approached him, and I initiated a conversation. “Well, don’t you look dashing tonight?”
“I could say the same thing about you,” He smiled bashfully, but it faded away when his attention shifted to Vincent. “Hello, you must be Mirasol’s dad. I’m Fred Shumway, I put together the Techno Symphony Kids Orchestra.”
Vincent shook his outstretched hand. “Nice to meet you, Fred. You’ve organized a great initiative and I’m glad Mirasol is a part of it.”
“We’re glad too. Mirasol’s talent with the violin is beyond exceptional for a five-year-old. That’s why she was giving a violin solo in the performance. The first time I watched her play at the auditions, I was literally blown away. We’re just lucky to have her on the team.” He smiled. “You two must have invested a lot in her skill.”
“Yeah,” Vincent nodded. “She has violin classes three times a week with one of the best music teachers in the country.”
“Plus, she also enjoys playing in her free time. That’s what brings out the beauty of her skill,” I quickly added, ignoring Vincent’s gaze. I didn’t want it to look like the only reason Mirasol does so well is because she takes classes. “She has a huge passion for music and that’s what makes her exceptional.”
“All the signs of a great violinist,” Fred commended before he called a female gallery attendant dressed in black. “Mirasol, can you take your violin and go with Dodee? She’ll take you to the others backstage and help you prep for the show.”
“Ok!”
“Bye Mira.” I gave her a wave.
“Bye!” She waved back enthusiastically before taking off with the attendant.
“I should probably be leaving too.” Fred turned back to us. “I have a few loose ends to tie up before the performance, but it was nice to finally meet you, Mr. Beckham. Shonee is very lucky to have you as a husband.”
“Husband?” Both Vincent and I blurted out in unison, and I quickly had to scramble to rectify the situation.
“Oh no, no,” I let out a nervous chuckle. “Vincent’s…Vincent’s not my husband. He’s actually my boss.”
“Yeah.” Though still composed, I could tell that Vincent was quite shaken up by Fred’s mistake. “Shonee is Mirasol’s nanny. My fiancée hired her a couple of months ago.”
“Oh, then I am so sorry I said that.” Fred swiftly jumped in, realising how awkward the situation had gotten. “I just saw you two together and assumed you were a couple…my bad.”
“It’s fine, it was an honest mistake,” Vincent replied.
There was a weird pause until Fred suddenly cleared his throat. “Um…I should-I should take my leave then.”
I rapidly nodded in agreement. “Right. Good luck with the show.”
“Thanks, enjoy the rest of the gallery.”