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He smiled. “I’ve got my Bronco.”
“You drove here?” I asked, stunned. “I– I assumed you flew?”
“I had to drive. I needed my truck. My things. I plan on staying…” He paused, his eyes looking almost fearful. “If you’ll have me.”
A tearful gasp bubbled from me. “Stay. Stay forever.” I dropped my head against his chest, shaking it rapidly. I breathed in the scent of fresh rain and mahogany that still lingered on him. He still smelt good, smelt like him, even though he’d been traveling for almost a full day. Traveling to me. Looking for me. Chasing me after he knew I had run away from him.
“Come on.” He opened the front door.
I leaned around the corner toward the hallway that led to the two bedrooms. “I should probably tell Maddie–” One of the doors opened.
“I wasn’t eavesdropping or anything, I swear. But, um, you’re good. You go. I’ll wait here for Easton.”
I gave Carter a sidelong glance that told him she’d definitely been eavesdropping.
We bound down the steps to the bottom floor of my apartment building and into his truck. He wouldn’t tell me where he was going as he balanced his phone on his lap, using the GPS for directions. The joke was on him because I’d lived in L.A. for one whole day and hadn’t left my apartment yet. I wouldn’t be able to say where we were going if I was the one navigating myself.
Within fifteen minutes, he pulled up next to the curb in an alleyway behind a set of buildings. We stepped out of his Bronco, and I could just make out the horizon line of the ocean between the two buildings in front of me. The beach was just across the street. Wispy clouds dotted the sky in every shade of pink. Streaks of orange expanded across the world, and I knew the sun was preparing to set somewhere out there.
His hand came to rest on the small of my back. “Pep, I promise I will watch the next thousand sunsets in a row with you, but right now, I have something I want to show you inside.”
I looked up at the white-washed building in front of us, accented with blue shutters and doors. “Inside?”
“Yeah, this is the apartment building my dad bought.” He stepped up to the door and placed a key in the lock.
“This doesn’t look like apartments.”
“All the units are on the second and third floors.”
I looked up and noticed the balconies on the upper levels. “What’s on the first level?”
He chortled as he opened the door. “Just let me show you, Pep.”
Through the door was– nothing. A large, empty room. It was spacious, the walls were a shade of white that matched the outside of the building. At the far end were floor-to-ceiling windows that looked out to the beach. People walked and biked right next to them. I could see a volleyball game going on in the sand. The view was spectacular from the windows, almost as if I was outside watching it myself. Three paneled walls stood in the center of the room, each in front of another, seeming to be spaced out strategically.
I had no idea what he was trying to show me.
Grabbing me by the hand, he walked toward the front of the building where the windows were. A door stood to the left of them. On the other side of the door was some kind of counter space, almost looking like it’d be a reception desk of some sort. Which, in theory, could make sense, if I had any inkling to what this space was supposed to be.
Carter walked around the back side of the desk and returned with something in his hands. Something that seemed kind of heavy. He held it upright, covering his chest. I couldn’t see it until he bent over and propped it up against the counter.
My hands flew to my mouth in a gasp as he came back to my side. It was a canvas. Ahugecanvas. Almost the size of me. Blues, and greens, and reds covered the canvas in splashes of color, swirling together into something that looked like an oil painting.
Except it wasn’t. It couldn’t be.
Because it was me.
It was the photo of me laying on my stomach in the water with my head draped over my arms. My hair is wet, swept out of my face and falling down my shoulder. The photo was morphed into something that looked like oil pastel, almost abstract. It was near impossible to tell it was a photo of me. The clearest parts of the painting being the way my eyes reflected off the water in a pure emerald shade, and the contrast of the auburn in my hair to the water beneath it.
“It’s me.”
I felt his fingers tickle my shoulder as he pulled my hair from behind it. “Yes. I was thinking about how lovely of a painting you’d make, so I created one.”
“Carter…It’s beautiful.” I felt my tears welling again. “How?”
“A new technique I’ve been trying out. Turning digital photos into traditional art. I guess I’ve been inspired.” His lips rested on the top of my head and I felt him smile. “I’m going to hang it up in here, right above the front desk.”
“What is this place supposed to be?”
