Page 46 of Walkoff Wedding

For a moment, comfortable silence settles around us as we eat, but I soon break it with a question that I’ve been wondering ever since I walked in tonight.

I nod toward her sketchbook on the end table beside us and ask, “What were you working on? When I got here.”

“Oh, uh… just something for my art thesis project. It’s nothing, really.” She ducks her head, lowering her gaze to the pizza in her lap.

“Can I see?”

Her head whips up, and her gaze meets mine, her brow arching in surprise, “You want to see my art?”

“Yeah. I mean, if you’d be okay showing it to me?” I say hopefully.

I’ve only seen a few pieces of hers so far, including the canvas from her room the other night, but I want to see more. I feel like her art is part of the Addie puzzle, of knowing her better. And I want to know her. I want to learn everything about her, especially the parts of her she keeps hidden. I want her to trust me enough to share those pieces.

“It’s probably… stupid and not very good,” she mutters sheepishly.

My brow furrows, and I sit up, setting the plate down on the coffee table in front of me to give her all of my attention. “Addie, do you really not know how talented you are?”

Even in the dim light of the lamp, I can see the telltale pink flush of her cheeks traveling down to her neck, despite the fact that she’s desperately trying to hide it by wrapping her sweater more securely around her.

“Show me. Please?”

For a moment, she stays put, her wild blue eyes holding mine while she chews her lip, silently debating something, but then finally, she nods and reaches for the sketchbook, flipping it open to the most recent page.

There’s a tremble in her hand when she turns it to face me, and I hate that she’s so nervous to share her talent, that she’s not more confident in herself. She should be, and I want to tell her over and over until she believes me.

The page is still mostly blank, aside from a half-drawn portrait of a woman that resembles her. The girl has the same elegant slope of her nose, the same pouty lips, the same delicate features. The drawing is amazing, but even as talented as Addie is, she doesn’t quite capture on paper how beautiful she is.

Or maybe she just doesn’t see herself the way that the world does. The way I do.

“You think this is stupid?” Disbelief laces my words as my gaze shifts to her.

It’s anything but stupid. It’s fucking extraordinary.

“It’s just… It’s a rough sketch. A verrrry rough sketch. I want to finish it in painting once I get the full idea down. Right now, I feel like I’m just feeling my way around in the dark and throwing stuff against the wall and praying that something sticks.”

“If this is your definition of a rough sketch, I can’t imagine what it will look like when it’s finished, Addie. Holy shit,” I mutter, dragging my attention from the drawing back to her.

Her throat swallows roughly before she slams the sketchbook closed and tucks it against her lap hastily, like the positive attention is too much for her. She tucks a loose strand of her blonde hair behind her ear. “Thank you. I’ll have to show you when it’s finally done. Whenever that may be.”

My mind is still blown that this girl truly believes that her art isn’t incredible, and I vow here and now to make it my life fucking goal to convince her otherwise. Has no one ever told her how incredible she is?

“Can I help?”

She shakes her head. “No, I don’t think so, but if I need help, I’ll let you know.” Pausing, she picks up her phone on the arm of the chair and glances at the time before shifting her gaze back to me. “Ugh. Three a.m. is going to come entirely too early. I guess I should head to bed.”

Auggie lifts his head from where he settled on the couch next to me, his ears perking up at the mention of bed. I swear, he naps more than a toddler but is also the chillest dog I’ve ever met.

“Auggie and I are going on our first jog tomorrow, so he’s gonna need to be very well rested. Big guy’s got a lot of calories to burn,” I tease, pausing to shift my gaze to Addie. “And… I was thinking, we’re going to need to go out soon. So we can be seen together. But we probably should practice? You know, before we really take things public. Make sure you’re comfortable.”

“Okay. Uh… I think that’s great. I’m ready when you are.”

I’ve been ready.

I nearly choke on my own spit when I walk through the front door the following morning and find Addie folded over like a pretzel in the middle of the living room.

She’s got her hands flat on the mat in front of her, with her ass perched high in the air as she listens along to some guided meditation thing on the TV.

And I’m pretty sure I’ve forgotten how to breathe, or think, or no… fucking both.

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