Abandoning his chair, he moved in front of her and caught her hand in his. “You know, there’re still so many stories to share. It’s not as if we can know everything about each other instantly. Or that we have to know everything before we know what’s right…”
He let the words trail off, not as if he wasn’t sure what came next but as if he was waiting. Trying to be patient.
Failing dismally.
Sweet, happy hope began spiraling upward in Dana’s chest.
It was the truth. “You’re saying we should probably move in with each other because that would make it easier to catch up?”
He lifted her hand and brushed his lips over her knuckles. “That, and it would make it easier for a lot of other things.”
She waited to see if he would waggle his eyebrows, but apparently, the man had decided to remain thoughtful.
Which meant the bubbles lighting up her bloodstream were dangerous, because she didn’t want to be sober right now. She wanted to pull him to his feet and dance, to laugh as they wandered over the hillside.
She wanted to pull him into bed and dance all night long in a whole different way. To sleep in his arms and know he was there.
Mark. Her caring, cocky, listening man.
This wasn’t a moment for serious—not that kind, anyway. This was a moment of serious joy.
Before she could say anything, Mark rose to his feet and held out a hand. “I have something to show you. I was going to wait, but I couldn’t resist seeing how it looked in its new home.”
She walked with him, curiosity rising as he led her across the great room toward the master bedroom.
The cozy, rustic farmhouse where she had lived for over thirty-five years had been built with love. She’d raised her children there. Buried lost ones there. Spent time with her son and daughter-in-law, and began to live again.
This new house set amongst the wild roses, with a view of the mountains, was dreamily perfect. Everything shiny, everything glowing, and the room Mark led her into was nearly the size of the living room in her old place.
Yet what made her lips curl upward wasn’t the spectacular luxury but the air mattress on the floor, a quilt and pillows neatly in place. “Mark Coleman. That’s the fanciest bed I’ve ever seen.”
He looked confused for a moment then laughed. “Honestly, that’s not what I wanted to show you.”
She was laughing as well, amusement tickling so hard, she couldn’t stop. “Sure.”
He spun her as if they were on the dance floor, ending with her back against his chest, arms crossed in front of her as he twisted her toward the wall that divided the bedroom from the master bathroom suite.
An enormous picture hung on the unpainted drywall, and she gasped. “Mark.”
“It seems Ashley was inspired. It’s one of the most beautiful things I’ve ever seen,” he said, softly pressing a kiss to the side of Dana’s neck.
Ashley had painted an eerily familiar scene. A woman stood surrounded by verdant-green bushes, pale-pink roses blooming exuberantly everywhere.
It was her—Dana. Only it wasn’t identical to the image that had been in the photographs her daughter-in-law had brought home at the start of the year, sending memories dancing that had hurt and yet been bitterly sweet.
She remembered the day so long ago—the one in the picture. They’d been taking photographs for a family album, and Mark had been there. He’d taken the camera from Ben, supposedly clicking shots of them as a couple, but when the film had been developed, nearly half the roll had been Dana by herself. Dancing in the rose bushes, daydreaming about what the future would bring.
Turning to discover Mark staring at her, a sensation in her gut jumping furiously. He was her friend, not her boyfriend. She wasn’t supposed to feel that way about him.
And so in the end, Dana had pushed the feelings away and focused on what she needed to, convincing herself the emotions had simply been a momentary glitch.
Never once over the years had she done anything she needed to feel guilty about. But this one thing—this one truth? She needed to tell him.
She turned from the image, her heart pounding. “Mark—”
He pressed a finger over her lips. “I have something else to show you.”
Her eyes shone, and after what she’d jokingly said earlier about moving in with him, he was already hopeful.
But he needed her to know everything.
He pulled his wallet from his pocket and slipped out the picture he’d had for so many years. “You’ve been with me forever,” he said.
She took the tattered photograph, breathing uneasily. “You carried this all those years?”
“I couldn’t let go,” he confessed.
Dana lifted the photograph toward the painting.
Then it was easy to see how brilliantly Ashley had brought new life to the image. Oh, she’d used a little artistic license when it came to making the rose bushes. Her style leaned toward three-dimensional, paint on paint, that looked a whole lot better when the viewer stood back instead of looking at it from inches away.
But the real magic was she had taken the image of Dana in her twenties and turned it into a current portrait. Just as beautiful, but her smile somehow more. The lines of her face, especially at the corners of her eyes and her mouth, showed life had not always been easy, but also that Dana was still young at heart. Still smiling, still hopeful.
She was still dancing.
Vibrant and glowing, the Dana in the painting held her arms out and embraced the beauty around her.
Mark pulled Dana’s hand down, turning the woman toward him. “I don’t need the photograph anymore,” he said softly. “Or even the painting, because I’ve got you. The real thing.”
She nodded, a series of sharp little head bobs that made him smile. Then she glanced back at the painting. “I think I needed this,” she said clearly. “I needed a reminder that it doesn’t matter that there’s a little more paint on the canvas, I’m still me.”
He laughed, and as she stepped into his arms, he accepted every bit of her. The young woman he’d fallen in love with and had never been able to tell. The mystery woman he’d dreamed of for so many years. And the strong, brave woman who was even now backing him toward the makeshift bed he’d placed in the room that he wanted to share with her forever.
“You are still you,” he agreed.
He brought her down to the mattress. Sunset danced as golden and orange rays filtered through the windows and played across their bodies.
Clothing stripped away, he kissed her softly, rolling over her as he breathed in the scent of roses. He kissed her harder, teasing all the places that he’d been learning over the past months. Every time they’d been able to steal away, testing, and taking, and enjoying.
Then he kissed her sweetly as they came together, the sensation so good, he wasn’t going to be able to be patient—
Except this was Dana, and for her, he would always find a way.
After, they lay tangled, the sheets kicked back because the air around them was heated from the summer day and their bodies.
Dana stroked her fingers through his hair, examining his face. “You look like you did that day when you took the pictures of me.”
Mark paused, thinking. “What look is that?”