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“You think so?” His voice was hesitant now, all traces of his earlier excitement gone.
Colette cast a glance at him over her shoulder, and he had an almost sheepish look upon his face.
“Are you worried that it isn’t?”
Zach seemed to ponder that for a moment before he shook his head. “No.”
Colette barked out a laugh as she turned fully toward him. “Glad to see your humility is intact.”
“It’s not that.” He chuckled. “I’m always worried that people won’t like my work. I think that’s part of being an artist. But at the same time, this painting?” He pointed at it, pride lighting his handsome features as he looked at his work once more. “It feels right. It feels like me.”
He stepped closer until they were standing side by side, both of them facing the beautiful rendition of the town.
“Something clicked today,” he said, his voice almost reverent. “I realized that for the longest time I was trying to paint exactly the same, no matter what. Despite the fact that I was growing and changing, I wasn’t allowing any room for my art to do the same. And that’s why it was suffering. I had put myself in such a box. That I could only paint in one specific way, even while my soul was yearning to express itself in a way that was entirely different.”
“And this painting fits your soul now?” she asked, even though she knew the answer before he said it.
It was clear as day that he had poured himself into it. She had admired his work before, found his talent to be beautiful in a way that she often found hard to describe. But as she looked at the canvas before her, this was the first time she actually feltmovedby something of his.
Even though it was technically just a landscape, just a screenshot of her quaint, sleepy little town, the sight of it still had something fluttering within her chest.
“Yes,” Zach answered simply. “And quite a bit of that credit goes to you.”
Colette whirled on him as shock coursed through her. Her brow furrowed as he turned to glance at her.
“I don’t deserve any of this credit,” she argued. “This is all you.”
“I might be the one who painted it,” Zach explained, his voice filled with some emotion that she couldn’t entirely place. “But it was because of the way that you’ve believed in me. I don’t think I would have been able to make this if it hadn’t been for that.”
Colette flushed and dipped her gaze, his words making her heart flutter lightly in her chest.
“And being able to create like this,” he continued, “being able to spill it all out, it’s making a lot of things start to make sense.”
“Like what?” Colette asked, still glancing down at her boots.
“Like who I am and what I want.”
She risked a glance at him, heat rising to her face as her palms began to sweat. He was looking at her pointedly, the weight of his gaze falling heavily upon her. She studied him for a second, taking in the way his auburn hair glinted in the light of the kitchen and the way his large frame seemed to invite her in. She wanted to wrap her arms around him, to hug him and press him close to her.
But instead, she just asked, “And what is it that you want?”
He didn’t answer, not with words, anyway. Instead, he held her gaze, his unsaid ‘you’ dancing between them. She wasn’t sure if she wanted him to say it or not. She felt like having it spoken out loud would cross some kind of line that they’d never be able to take back. And while the thought of it thrilled her to her very core, she wasn’t entirely sure if she was ready for it. Not yet.
But maybe soon?
She cleared her throat, allowing the question to go unanswered as she cocked her head at him.
“So are we still on for dog sledding?”
He furrowed his brow at her. “Of course we are. Why wouldn’t we be?”
She pointed to the painting. “It looks like you’ve been outside all day. I didn’t know if you’d be sick of the cold by now.”
Zach winked at her. “I don’t care if it’s cold. I wouldn’t miss this date with you for the world.”
Colette couldn’t help it. She blushed all over again.
* * *
