He smiled, and it was so full and genuine that my heart flipped in my chest.
“I was just thinking about my art,” he said slowly. “When I lose myself to my work, nobody tells me that that’s when I’m at my worst. In fact, people usually get excited and support me.”
It was my turn to frown at the dancing flames. “Yeah, but you create beauty,” I pointed out. “I just uncover the ugly.”
He made that soft sound of processing information. “You find the truth, right? Share it with the world?”
“I try,” I said.
“I’ve read your work. That’s what you do. You shine a light on the truths of the world, no matter how they look.”
I smiled into my clasped fingers. To know that he had read my work filled me with pride.
“I want to make a difference,” I admitted, but I didn’t add that I felt like I was failing.
“When I make art, all I’m trying to do is unearth some version of truth. What’s more beautiful than truth, no matter in what form? It’s that human connection.”
Inexplicably, my chest and throat tightened with undefined emotion. I felt seen and understood. That was what I wanted to believe about myself, but lately, I wasn’t so sure. I leaned more of my body into him, still unable to voice my appreciation for his words.
My gaze moved around the square at all the pockets of people. Eventually, I organized my thoughts. “Kevin. My ex. He said that I’m ruthless,” I whispered. “That all I care about are other people because I don’t want to deal with my issues.”
Muscles flexed in his clenching jaw.
“He wasn’t wrong,” I added. “I have this drive for information. I don’t stop. Even when I know I’m going too far. Even when it’s destroying my relationships.” I wrapped my arms tight around my middle. “He made me feel like helping people was greedy.” I narrowed my eyes and spoke softly in the quiet night. “My whole life, I grew up thinking I was meant to change the world and help people. I read stories where heroes sacrificed everything for the moral good to make the world better. But I don’t think he really wanted that. Maybe he did at first, but not recently. Recently, he wanted the security of money. I get that. But it wasn’t the most important thing. As much as he said he supported me, I think he just wanted me to fit into the role inhisstory. Kevin wanted to be the main character, and I messed with that.”
I thought about Kevin’s incessant desire for money. His desperate need to ensure he would never have the poverty he perceived as a child.
Levi remained thoughtful at my side. He picked up a poker to fuss with a piece of burning wood. I sighed and slumped back. I was too much. I opened up too soon and too wide. I was a gaping wound oozing all over the place, ruining the moment.
“I’m sorry. I don’t even know how we got here.” It was the car ride into town all over again. I talked and talked and took hislack of speaking for listening. But all I did was lasso him into the thoughts that tied me up.
Levi slowly leaned the poker to the side of the pit and grabbed my hand. He watched with a frown as he intertwined our fingers. My heart raced, the sting of those unshed tears replaced by an overwhelming awareness of where our bodies connected.
Warmth. Sturdiness. Comfort. Longing.
“Kevin sounds like a tool bag,” Levi said.
I coughed a surprised laugh. I clasped his hand to my chest as I bent forward, half with humor, half with relief I hadn’t freaked him out.
Should I argue? Defend the man I gave years of my life to because didn’t it make me less somehow for staying with him? Wouldn’t I bear the weight of that bad relationship by staying in it for so long? But I found I couldn’t argue with Levi’s assessment.
“You aren’t lacking, Claire. Not even a little.” Levi tugged his hand free from where his knuckles brushed against the tops of my breast. He turned so our knees bumped on the low log. “You carry an entire universe in you. Every time you speak, I’m excited to hear what you’ll say. You make me feel things in a way that I haven’t felt in years. You make me see the world in a different and exciting way.”
My dry mouth closed slowly. “Oh.” What did you say to the ultimate compliment? How could I even be expected to function again? All I wanted to do was prick his words over and over my body until they were tattooed on me forever.
“If somebody told you at any point that something was wrongwith the way your mind worked, they were simply incorrect. Or jealous. Or motivated by their own wants. I’ve seen the beauty of that machine”—he brushed his thumb along my temple—“and there isn’t anything wrong there. It’s all magnificent.”
I closed my eyes and turned into his palm before he could take it away. We were here in this private moment in a public place. I didn’t want to be here anymore. I wanted to go back to our little spot in the woods, where we both felt free to be exactly who we were.
In all our naked glory.
“I’m getting a massive ego,” I said, trying to joke. But really, my heart was jackhammering against my chest. I’d opened up fully and truly to this man, not quite a stranger, but not what I ever thought he would be. Could it be this easy to talk to a person? To let yourself open to them? To want them? If it felt like this for normal people, then I understood. I understood it all.
“Good. You deserve a massive ego. Anybody who made you feel lacking is an absolute idiot.”
He lowered his head to mine. I think he was aiming for my cheek or my temple, but at the last moment, he lifted my chin to press the gentlest of kisses against my mouth. It didn’t linger, and it didn’t demand. It was a small gift of comfort.
It wasn’t enough. I wanted and needed more but would accept that for now.
