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Smiling, he says, “Nothing better than when that mojo comes back, huh?”
“Totally. I think I stayed up for seventy-two hours writing and sketching when the creative bug finally came back.”
“And now you have a book out,” he says proudly.
I nod, feeling my cheeks warm. “And now I have a book out. Which was totally unexpected.”
“It’s awesome. I have a copy on my nightstand.”
“You actually bought a copy? I would’ve given you one.”
“I actually bought three copies. You better sign one for me.”
“I’ll sign them all for you. But you didn’t have to buy them—”
“Of course I did.” His voice takes on a lower tone. “I want to support you.”
“I better not find thousands of copies hidden in your barn,” I tease. “I want to believe all my book sales were to actual stores and interested people.”
“I promise I only bought three. Your success is real.”
Shadow lifts his head, jumps off the couch, and settles near the hearth, leaving only the cushion between us.
“I noticed my favorite poem wasn’t in your book.”
I look away from the dog to meet his eyes. I’m surprised—and flattered—that he noticed.
“Which one is that?” I already know the answer.
“'The Lovely Return.’”
That one is my favorite, too. “Because that one was for you. Not for anyone else.”
“I’m glad. That’s also on my nightstand.”
My brow rises. “Sounds like there’s a lot on your nightstand.”
He laughs. “I’m sounding a bit creepy, huh? I promise that’s all there is.”
“Are you sure? No vials of my hair? The last spoon I used?”
His hair falls into his face as he shakes his head and I love how it magically changes him from sexy to adorable. “Nothing else. I swear.”
“I have something of you on my nightstand, too,” I reveal. “Well, it’s usually on my nightstand. Right now, it’s in my suitcase.”
“Now I have to know what it is.”
“You might not like what it is. It’s a bit sad, but it’s also beautiful.”
I’m met with a crooked, curious grin. “What about me is sad and beautiful and fits on your nightstand?”
“It’s a photo I took of you from the kitchen window the day Cherry passed. You were kneeling with her, and the snow was falling in slow motion that day. There’s this little cloud of mist floating above you, and maybe it’s just from your breath in the cold air…” I pause and wet my lips. “But it’s in the shape of a dog. A shape very much like Cherry. And I guess I like to think it was her spirit going to heaven.”
“Wow… how come you never showed it to me?”
My shoulder lifts. “I think I was afraid it might upset you.”
“It might’ve when it first happened. But I’m okay now. The happy memories have overtaken the grief.”
“I’ll show it to you tomorrow. I can print a copy for you if you want one.”
“I’d like that.”
On the trail of that sentence, he reaches down and grabs my foot. My breathing stills as he unties and then slips off my shoe. Without a word, he does the same with my other shoe. His long fingers wrapped entirely around my ankle make my insides tremble.
I find my voice. “You don’t have to do that…”
“You always liked to sit here with your feet up.”
“I did.” I stretch my legs across the cushion between us. My toes almost reach his leg. “I do.”
He gently pulls the blanket up until it covers my feet. Such a simple, caring gesture, but still makes my heart squeeze.
“Comfy?” he asks.
I can only nod.
“Keep telling me more. I’ve missed your voice.”
I’ve missed his, too. The deep timbre of it. The way it reaches into me like tendrils, calming me one moment and exciting me the next. The way it echoes through my memories. Sometimes soft. Sometimes raw.
“I had a roommate named Londyn. She always called me Rose. I think you’d like her. She has zero filter and sleeps with a headless teddy bear named Shithead. She was a really good friend to me while I was there. Odd, but still a great friend. We’re still in touch. She’s out of Tranquility now and has a vlog.”
“She sounds very unique.”
I’ve been blessed with unique, authentic friends. “She is. How’s Kelley, by the way?”
“He’s great. Maybe I can get him to stop by while you’re here.”
“I’d love to see him.”
He smiles sheepishly. “Tell me more about you.”
I tilt my head. “Aren’t you bored yet?”
“Nope.”
“Tell me something about you first.”
“Okay.” He looks up at the ceiling, thinking. “I took your advice. I focused on my art. And Lily. And the baby.”
“Did great things happen?”
“Yes. Very great things happened.”
“I knew they would. That’s what you deserve.”
I watch his chest rise and fall. “I just wished you were here. Every day. Every time something happened, whether it was good or bad, I wished you were here to share it with me.”
