Page 96 of All Your Firsts

“That I did. We came a little earlier than last time, so we can stay longer if you’d like,” he says while grabbing my hand and leading the way.

“I still can’t get over the beauty of this place. Thank you for bringing me back.”

We head through the clearing, and I can’t help but inhale a breath of surprise.

Lanterns line the dock over the lake, and at the end are two easels with blank canvases.

I look over at him in shock. “You did this? For me?” I say with tears in my eyes.

He just grins and pulls me along.

“When did you get all of this up here?” I ask as I look at all the supplies.

“Don’t worry your pretty little head about that. I want to see you paint.”

“It’s been a long time,” I say. I’ve sketched, but it was with clients’ ideas before the kidnapping.

I’m scared my creativity is gone.

“No doubts. Put the brush in your hand and ignore everything else. Even me,” he says with the push I need.

I take a deep breath and square my shoulders before grabbing the supplies I need.

Soft music plays from behind me and I can’t help but sway and get lost in the moment of doing the two things I love at once. I’ve always been the type to need music and a bit of chaos around me to get my vision onto paper.

I’m in that element, and I let the moment take me. Deep strokes of black, browns, greens, and white dominate the canvas. I don’t stop until the sun is almost down and we’re surrounded by only the muted light of the lanterns and the moon.

I didn’t even notice how chilly it was until now.

Vic comes up behind me, wrapping me in the warmth of his embrace.

“It’s breathtaking, just like you,” Vic says against my ear.

“Let me see yours.”

I look over at Vic’s canvas, and my head angles to the side. It’s a beautiful and simple red rose, but it looks familiar. Weird. But a rose is just a rose. How else would you draw one?

Get out of your head, Rosie.

Enjoy the moment.

I turn around in his arms and sway with him to the soft music that’s playing.

This is what living is.

This is what I ran from home to have.

Moments like this.

The freedom to choose my memories.

We sway until we hear lightning in the distance, bringing us back to the present.

“Shit, we better go before it gets bad. I don’t want to ride with you on the back while it’s raining,” he says in a rush.

“What about our paintings?”

“I’ll handle it. Let’s get the fuck outta here.”

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