Page 159

WESTON
Iinterlock my fingers with Carlee’s and guide her up the stairs. The wooden steps creak under our weight, the sound echoing in the quiet house. I open the door to my painting studio and lead her around the corner. Windows line the wall, filling the space with golden beams of sunlight that dance across the floor. She’s fascinated by the studio while I’m captivated by her.
“I didn’t realize this room was so big,” she says in awe. When I gave her the tour, we never entered this room.
She follows me to the opposite side, where my supplies are neatly stacked. It includes tubes of colorful paints, different-sized brushes in jars, and large blank canvases waiting for inspiration.
The easel is set up in the middle of the room. I’ve escaped here, spending countless hours pouring my heart into the fine details. I’ve been working on it since the night we first kissed.
Carlee meets my gaze before walking around to the other side of the easel. I follow closely behind.
Her hand covers her mouth, and she gasps as she sees it.
My eyes sweep over the image I painted of her, her serene beauty forever captured. She’s standing at the window in my T-shirt, her silhouette framed by the swirling snow outside. Her faceisn’t fully shown, just a glimpse of a smile reflected in the glass. That expression of hers lights a fire in the dark corners of my heart.
“Gorgeous,” I whisper.
This is the image of her that haunts my thoughts, the one that floods my mind when all is quiet. She causes the noise of the world to fade away.
“This is how you saw me?” she questions, a note of disbelief in her voice.
“Yes,” I say. “And when I close my eyes, I can still imagine you standing there, wearing a smile that wasn’t meant for me.True Happiness. That’s what I named it.”
“I’m speechless,” she says, her hand resting over her heart, her breaths coming a little quicker now. “You’resotalented. This is brilliant.”
I laugh. “I’d hope so, considering how much my father spent on private instructors. At age three, I started art classes and piano lessons. I could’ve attended Juilliard. Instead, I chose business school.”
She’s still staring at the painting, her head cocked to one side. “There’s something very familiar about this.”
I breathe in deeply, watching her eyes scan over my strokes. “It’s just a memory captured in paint.”
“Maybe so,” she says, turning to me, her eyes sparkling with excitement as if she discovered something new. “Do you have anything else? I’d love to see more.”
“They’re in storage. More than one hundred paintings,” I explain, my voice tinged with a hint of regret. I removed them all.
“Promise me. Please. Let’s hang them on your walls. You have tons of blank space,” she encourages, giddy with excitement.
I love that she’s supportive, but I’m not used to this. Our deep connection sends a rush through me.
“That’s what you want?” I tuck loose strands of hair behind her ear, my fingers brushing against her skin.
“Yes,” she replies, her voice sincere.
“Okay,” I say, knowing Carlee craves the things money could never buy—a shared human experience withme. And, fuck, do I want to give it to her.
“If I’m moving in, we might as well make it feel like home,” she encourages. “Until I figure out what’s going on with my apartment,” she adds, a hint of vulnerability creeping into her tone.
“You can stay as long as you want,” I express, never wanting her to leave.
“You make me feel safe, and you’re like human melatonin. I instantly fall asleep when you hold me close. I don’t think I want to give that up just yet.”
I can see the layers of her thoughts as she shuffles through them. I wish she’d let the cards fall.
I chuckle, pulling her gently into my arms. “Where do you want to hang this one, roomie?” I ask, a grin breaking across my face.
She tilts her head up at me. “Aboveyourbed.”
“You already poison my thoughts. Isn’t that enough?” I tease, unable to hide my amusement.