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“Another nightmare?” she asked, walking over to him. He glanced up at her as his fingers stilled, the music stopping, but Haven barely noticed. She couldn’t focus on anything but the green eyes boring into her. Once so alive with passion, she saw nothing but deep sadness marring the bright color.
Carmine set the guitar aside and moved his legs to make room, motioning for her to join him. She climbed into his lap and he wrapped his arms around her.
“Not a nightmare this time,” he said. “It was a good dream.”
“What was it about?”
“You,” he said quietly. “You made a painting—some abstract shit, I don’t know—but it was so good they hung it in a museum and raved about how talented you were. It was like you were the next fucking Picasso, tesoro.”
She laughed. “I don’t even know how to paint, Carmine.”
“You could learn,” he said. “Would you want to?”
“Maybe, but I don’t know how good I’d be.”
“Oh, you’d be good,” he said confidently. “You shouldn’t doubt yourself. You can do anything you set your mind to.”
“Except for play the piano,” she said playfully. “Or the guitar.”
He chuckled. “Yeah, for the sake of everyone’s ears, we ought to leave music to me, but the rest is all you. You can probably do all of that, you know. Draw, paint, sculpt shit into weird shapes and tell people it’s something it doesn’t look anything like. That takes talent.”
She smiled. “And you think I have that kind of talent?”
“Of course,” he said. “There’s gonna be no stopping you once you get started.”
“Thank you,” she whispered, a swell of emotion surging through her at his words. “It means a lot that you believe in me.”
“I’d be an idiot not to,” he said, kissing the top of her head. “You know, we never finished our conversation from the other day.”
“Which one?”
“The one about your freedom.”
Haven sighed, snuggling closer to him. “What else is there to say?”
“I wanna hear what it really means to you.”
* * *
They spent the next hour sitting together in front of the window in the dark library, digging into each other’s minds. They didn’t talk about the torture they had endured or the hurt they still felt, instead focusing on the things that made them happy. He asked about her deepest desires, wanting to know what kind of things she would do if she woke up tomorrow with a clean slate. What would she do, if someday, she could start over, brand new?
She talked of friends and a family, a house full of books and half a dozen pets. The American Dream, complete with two-point-five kids and a freshly painted white picket fence, weekend barbecues with neighbors and summer vacations to Disneyland.
It felt like everything else faded away that long moment, the reality of their situation taking a back seat as they considered an alternate future, one Haven had always wanted but never believed she could have. A future away from it all. A future with no strings.
Freedom.
“I just want people to see me,” she said. “I want to walk into a room and have them know I’m there. It doesn’t matter where it is, really. I’m just don’t want to be invisible anymore.”
Carmine ran the back of his hand along her warm cheek. She hummed contently, leaning into his touch.
“I see you, hummingbird,” he whispered, a twinkle in his eyes.
“I know you do.”
“You wanna know what else I see?”
“What?” she asked.
