“There’s something else I have to tell you.”
She hummed, eyes closing.
“What’s that?”
I swallowed, but not because I was scared this time. I was excited, I had been since I’d found out, and Wren was the number one person I wanted to share my joy with.
“I got the job, with the guy out of Seattle. He’s coming out here next week to finalize all the details.”
Wren popped up to rest on her elbows, grinning wider now. “That’s incredible, Anderson. Congratulations.” She leaned down to kiss me and I held her there, wrapping an arm around her and pulling her closer until she threaded her leg between mine.
“We’ll be leaving in a little over a month,” I added, stomach dropping at the thought of leaving her behind. But she had her own dreams to chase, and I didn’t know how yet but I knew we could have our dreams and our love, both.
Wren hovered over me, her hair a mess from my hands being tied in it, eyes tired and sated. “And I’m about to be in crunch mode for this line,” she said. “Especially since I was supposed to be coming back with a book full of brilliance and I’ve got about ten pages of starting material, at best.”
I chuckled, squeezing her side. “You’ll figure it out. Your team is going to be so excited to see you and I’m sure they’ve been working, too. I’m not worried about you.”
“And I’m not worried about us,” she said. She stared at me for a moment, shaking her head like it was a dream to her, too. “You know, I never saw you coming. You were the last thing I expected to find out here.”
“That makes two of us,” I answered with a smile.
“I’m so happy I did.”
I swallowed, nodding in answer and pulling her down into me, my lips pressing against hers with the emotions of all the words I’d never know how to speak.
I didn’t know if she could feel it, that she’d saved me, but she had. And now I would spend every day I was lucky enough to keep her showing her how beautiful she was—just as she was—passionate, creative, kind and smart.
And maybe we did have a lot still to figure out. Maybe we would spend our lives together or maybe we were only prolonging a heartbreak that would hurt us both in the end. Either way, I knew one thing was true.
No two days would ever be the same again.
I woke up with the sun the next morning, Anderson wrapped around me with my back to his chest. It was warm under the sheets and I sighed contently, replaying the last twenty-four hours, how everything had changed.
He loved me. I loved him. It was crazy, possibly stupid, and yet the most amazing feeling in the world.
There was a giddiness that existed like a dozen butterflies under my ribs, flittering and filling me with something I hadn’t felt in so long I wasn’t sure it was actually real. It was enough to pull me from the cozy spot in Anderson’s arms, though he grunted in protest, but I kissed his cheek and pulled on one of his sweaters before padding downstairs.
It was early, a soft purple glow from the rising sun the only light in Anderson’s kitchen as I swiped my sketchbook from the table. There was a blanket draped over the arm of his couch and I grabbed it, too, before letting myself out onto the back porch.
His cabin had a better view of the river than mine, the trees behind it cleared out and replaced with a neatly defined trail down to the water. There were stacks of firewood under the overhang of a small shed and a small, two-person hot tub that looked like it hadn’t been used in years. There was only one chair on the back porch, but it was cushioned and clean, and I wrapped the blanket around my waist before sitting and tucking my legs underneath me.
I ran a hand over the cover of the book Anderson had made me, fingers tracing the letters before I flipped it open to the first blank page. Inside the cover, just between the binding, there was a new charcoal pencil sharpened to a point. I unfastened it from the tiny clip that held it and rolled it between my fingers just as a light breeze swept in from the river.
I smiled, heart nearly bursting at the image of Anderson making the book for me. I imagined him cutting and staining in his shed, measuring the binding until the pages fit neatly inside it, carving the word that reminded him of me on the front.
With him heavy on my mind, my hand began to move across the first crisp white page, and then something happened.
That giddiness I had felt earlier blossomed, doubling in size, seizing every cell in my body until I was no longer in control. It was almost like an out of body experience as I sat on the back porch, hand frantically moving as I felt everything around me. I listened to the river rushing, the warblers singing their song into the breeze. I closed my eyes and saw the mountains, the tall trees on the hike to Haybrook Tower, and the smiles of my newfound family. I felt the water, icy cold, and the cozy warmth of the fire I’d lit in the stove nearly every night. The smell of Momma Von’s chili and Anderson’s cologne, cinnamon and pine, mixed in my memory, and I drew faster.
It was then that I recognized the feeling.
I was inspired.
I almost laughed, almost cried, almost shouted from Anderson’s porch with relief.
I wasn’t broken, though I had been bent and bruised.
With every new page, I felt the line come to life. I envisioned the colors—dark and rich greens, vibrant oranges and yellows, earthy browns and reds. I couldn’t wait to get to my sewing machine, to bring the flowy sleeves and thin, delicate fabric layers to life.
For so long it had felt forced, like I would be destined to try and never succeed again when it came to my designs. But the summer had opened me again, and I’d let love in. Love from Anderson, love from Momma Von and Julie and everyone else who’d let me into their lives so willingly. And more than anything, love from myself.
Because I was enough.
And I finally believed that.
Anderson brought me a tall cup of coffee about two hours into my work, kissing me on the forehead before retreating back inside. It felt like it had only been ten minutes later when he emerged again, just as I’d flipped back to the first page and scrawled in large, all-capitalized letters across the top: THE REVELRY LINE.
“Hey, I made lunch. You want me to bring it to you out here?”
I blinked, emerging from the daze to squint up at him. My stomach growled loud enough for both of us to hear and he chuckled.
“What time is it?” I asked.
“Almost two.”
I smiled, closing the sketchbook and standing to stretch. The blanket I’d had draped over my lap fell to the porch and Anderson’s eyes followed my legs down to my ankles before finding my face again.
“Okay, how about a break for something else and then lunch.”
I laughed, retrieving the blanket from my feet and folding it neatly. “Food first.” I winked, laying the soft fleece over the arm of the chair before facing the river again with a sigh. “I forgot what this feels like.”
“To sketch?”
I nodded as he stepped up behind me, hands finding my waist. “Yes, to sketch. And to love.”
He kissed my neck and I leaned into him, heart bursting as we watched the river. It was a peaceful, serene moment—that is, until my stomach growled again.
“Come on, woman,” Anderson said with a smile. “Let me feed you.”