Page 102 of Fragile Hearts

“Kept it covered because I wanted you to be the first to see it,” he tells me. “Wouldn’t even let Sage in here.”

“Thank you. I appreciate that. I want it to be something just for us, and that helps,” I respond, knowing people will eventually see it if they come in our bedroom, but for now, it’s just for us.

“You ready?” Nate asks me, standing with his hand poised and ready to remove the tarp.

“Go for it.”

When he pulls it off with an almost elaborate reveal, my hand goes to my mouth, the gasp falling from my lips completely unexpected.

“Nate,” I mutter, shocked to my core at just how perfect it is.

I gave him very little direction, but his talent has come through immensely, capturing Owen and me in a way I never could have imagined.

The painting is abstract with minimal colors, but the couple is very obviously Owen and me. Embracing, our arms wrapped around each other, my blonde hair mingling with Owen’s brown, our sun-kissed skin, the side of my breast exposed, Owen’s muscled bicep flexed.

“What do you think?” Nate now asks when I’m silent for too long, my eyes unable to take it all in. “Let Owen know I never saw you naked. Took some creative liberties and a few guesses,” he jokes.

“Honestly, I don’t even know what to say.” The words are stilted because it’s true. I’m at a loss for words at just how talented Nate is.

“Well, say something,” Nate barks out. “I’m worried you hate it.” He chuckles nervously, and I shake my head.

“No, it’s…it’s…amazing. More than I could ever picture. Thank you so much.”

Walking over to him, I stop, waiting for him to give me permission to hug him, and he rolls his eyes, letting out a sigh.

“Fine, hug me,” he concedes, and I do just that, pulling him into my arms, holding him tightly.

“Thank you so much.”

“It’s what we do for friends,” he says, a hint of emotion tugging at his words. “We came out on the other side, Sloane. We made it.” He doesn’t have to elaborate on what he means; his words bury themselves deep inside me. We share a common bond, one I wish we didn’t, but he’s right.

We made it.

“How much do I owe you?” I ask him, and he lets out a hard sigh. “Don’t you dare say I don’t owe you because this is a business, and we might be friends, but I’m paying for this. All your time. All the effort and the thought you put into this. Come on, Nate, don’t be shitty.”

He laughs hard, shaking his head. “Who the hell are you?” His brows are narrowed as he glares at me. “You would have never been this assertive before. You kinda shocked me.”

“And you’re kinda annoying me by not saying how much I owe you.”

“Fine. Two hundred?” It’s said like a question, and I get that this is the first time he’s done something like this, but that feels way too low.

“Nate, seriously?” I reply with conviction.

“Yeah, seriously. You’re my first paying client besides the boards I do for Olsen. I don’t know what to charge.”

“Okay, we’ll go with two hundred, but you damn well better up that price when you become fucking famous on this island.”

“Noted.”

Nate helps me load the painting into the back of Owen’s SUV, again covering it with the tarp to protect it. Mochi barks loudly, demanding Nate’s attention. Such a spoiled little shit.

Once it’s fully seated in the back, protected and ready, I head to the driver’s side, climbing in as Nate walks around to the passenger side to greet Mochi.

I roll down the window, letting Nate get in a few pets before I head back to the house.

Just as I pull into the driveway, my phone chimes with a text from Owen.

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