Page 55 of Love.V2
Fiona wrapped her arm around Tess’s shoulders. “Dylan tells me you’re a painter, as well? Maybe we can have some fun once you’redone looking around. I’m working on a new technique I could use a second opinion on.”
As they walked into the studio, Tess looked up like she was entering the Sistine Chapel. She glanced back again, her amazed, disbelieving face framed by hundreds of watercolors as Fiona led her down the hall.
I watched her take it in. The wonder. The joy. The disbelief.
What a waste these past seven months had been. These past few years. Did I really think anything was more important thanthis?
Tess’s smile lit the hallway. I stepped inside, following her through the room filled with bright colors and muted shapes. And vowed then and there I’d never take her for granted again.
Chapter 15
Tess
“The work she’s doing with the geometric patterns is incredible,” I gushed. Dylan’s hand on the back of my neck led me through the door to his room.
“The sharpness of the lines,” he muttered. I grinned.
“Exactly! That contrast of the bold edges with the softness of the watercolor. You can’t recreate it twice. The way she dilutes the pigment is so…”
“Organic,” Dylan supplied, tugging on my shoulder to stop me before I ran into the dresser. I glanced up from the little postcard-sized painting I’d been staring at ever since leaving Fiona’s workshop.
She was everything I’d wanted her to be and more. She was so smart, carelessly throwing out various techniques and theories that made me want to grab a pen and take notes.
“Organic. Exactly!” I beamed at Dylan, then back at the paper in my hand.
In her workshop, she’d let us experiment with her inks. I’d sketched out a little dragonfly on a lily pad, and drenched it in color. It was nothing like Fiona’s work, but I’d shadowed it enough that the dragonfly popped, nearly 3-D from far away.
“Mmm, excellent dimensionality. We could play with the light a little next time,” Fiona had commented when she saw my paper. “Do you mind if I borrow the concept? Mess around with it a little?”
I had nearly died. If Dylan hadn’t been there, holding me up, I would still be passed out on Fiona Winston’s studio floor. He’d managed an interesting-looking squiggle, washed with blues and greens and purples. Fiona had called it a “beautiful expression.” Expression of what, I wasn’t sure, and I’d been too overwhelmed to ask her to clarify.
“I know I should stop babbling about Fiona Winston, but I justmet Fiona Winston,and sheliked my painting, and I think this is the greatest night of my life.”
“I’m glad.”
When I looked up again, Dylan was sitting on the bed, folded hands hanging between his spread legs. A lamp in the corner illuminated the room in a soft orange glow.
Earlier tonight, opening the door to him had done ridiculous things to my hormones. He’d looked like a model in his crisp, well-fitted suit.
Now, though, he was less than picture perfect. He’d shed his jacket, sleeves rolled up. His hair curled around his collar in the humid night air. A soft smile played across his mouth.
And he was gazing at me with such aching fondness, my heart squeezed. This man,myman, had done this for me.
I might have floated on a cloud all the way here, but now I landed back on Earth. In a hotel room. Alone. With Dylan.
I licked my lips. “I really should stop talking about Fiona Winston.” My voice came out as a whisper. The smile deepened at the corners of his mouth.
“Or don’t. I love how happy you are right now.” He looked like he loved it. Like he loved me.
My heart thudded in my chest, landing like a stone against my ribs and then picking up speed like it was trying to take flight.
I gently placed the painting on the dresser beside Dylan’s. “No, I…really think I need to stop talking now.” I didn’t want to fan-girl over a painter. I wanted to get my body as close to his as possible and see what happened next. I’d been looking forward to this trip for days, weeks even, thinking longingly ofNew Yorkand thehotelevery night he left me at my door with the taste of him on my tongue.
Sadness flashed through the affectionate look on his face. “I haven’t done a very good job of making you happy in the past. I’ve learned not to take it for granted.”
My racing heart fissured straight down the middle. “Dylan.” I stepped closer. Touching him was imperative.
“We both know it’s true. Tonight makes me remember how being with you can feel like magic.” Tonighthadbeen magic. The dinner, how we’d hung on each other’s every word. Laughing with Fiona as Dylan accidentally splattered paint everywhere. Perfection, all of it.
