“Because every time I try to picture what it would look like, it goes to pure fantasy—as in woodland nymphs, fairies, that sort of thing.”
“What’s wrong with that?”
“I’m supposed to be coming up with high fashion,” I said, “not outfitting the cast ofA Midsummer Night’s Dream.”
“I bet you could make something that’s both fantasy and high fashion if you wanted to.”
“Maybe. I’m imagining a gorgeous wedding gown that’s pale pink and sage green, with hand-painted fabric, raw edges, and all these sheer layers…”
Ryder said, “Show me,” so I ran inside for a drawing pad and some colored pencils. When I returned, I quickly sketched out a few rough ideas. Each garment was ethereal and dreamlike, unlike anything I’d ever designed before.
“You have to make these,” he said. “They’re too beautiful not to.”
“It would be so much fun. They could go costumey though, and that’s not what potential employers look for.”
“Do it anyway. Do it for you. This is the right call.”
I met his gaze and asked, “Why do you sound so sure of that?”
“Because I can see the light that came on in your eyes when you started talking about this. This is what you’re meant to make, Hal. I think you know that too, deep down.”
“You know what? You’re right. This is what I should be working on, because it’s making me excited about design again. If it ends up looking like a bunch of fairy costumes from a Halloween shop, that’s fine. I can always fall back on my other collection for the fashion show, but I need to do this.”
It felt like a cloud had lifted—like I finally had a direction, after meandering aimlessly for so long. I kissed Ryder and said, “Thank you.”
“For what?”
“For believing in me, even when I don’t believe in myself.”
Our time together absolutely flew by. While I began working on my new collection, Ryder helped me in so many ways. He cleaned and organized, ran errands, cooked, and filled my freezer, but most of all, he provided moral support.
He listened while I rambled, talking through ideas until the designs were clear in my mind. He kept me company, made love to me, and held me while we slept. And he made sure I took time each day to relax—to hang out with my friends, to be outside, and just to breathe.
I was in a much better place by the time Logan and I drove Ryder to the airport Saturday morning, accompanied by Owen, who chattered happily in his car seat the whole way there. I felt calmer and more confident, and that made everything seem less daunting.
Logan pulled his SUV to the curb when we reached the terminal, and Ryder and I climbed out and held each other for a long moment. As he stroked my hair, I murmured, “I’m so glad I get to see you in four weeks.”
“I’ll be counting the days.” When he kissed me, it was tender and full of promise. He stepped back and smiled at me as he hung his backpack over his shoulder. Ryder cupped my cheek and said, “See you soon, baby,” before turning and heading into the terminal.
I watched him go, but only for a few seconds, since the SUV was in a loading zone. After I jumped into the passenger seat and fastened my seatbelt, Logan handed me a box of tissues and asked, “Are you okay?”
“Yes and no.” I blotted the tears from my eyes as he pulled away from the curb. “It’s always so hard to say goodbye to him, but this surprise visit was pure joy.”
“That man is madly in love with you, Hal.”
“Do you think so?”
“No question. Hasn’t he told you that yet?”
“No, but I haven’t said it, either.”
Logan asked, “Why not? I know you feel it.”
“I absolutely do, but I guess I want the timing to be right. Or maybe I’m hoping Ryder says it first.”
“I feel like he just did. He wouldn’t drop everything like that and come to help you if he didn’t love you.”
He was right. I still wanted to hear Ryder say the words, though.
