Page 179 of Paint the Town, Dove

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Ryden leaned back in the tub, grabbing hold of my notebook and reading through the pages in silence. His hand rubbed my foot underwater as he thumbed through frayed lyrics and wet pages, eyebrows knit together in concentration.

And yet, his hand never left my skin.

That’s who Ryden was.

The Eagle who never stopped flying.

The boy who didn’t allow the pains of his past to destroy the rest of his life.

Something changed that day when his mother walked back into his life. Something better.

Whether we knew it at the time or not, the course of our lives redirected itself to this –

The moment of us, sitting knee to knee in my bathtub in New York City.

Naked. Vulnerable. Together.

But we won.

How does this happen, you’re probably thinking.How does one turn longing into love?

Well, it starts with a story of two birds – one eagle and one dove – and the ballad in which they learned how to fly.

Every Day After

Ryden

Ibegan seeing an addiction’s councillor a few weeks ago.

My cravings were getting better, but that life – thatversionof me still came to visit, still took up residency in my head –mynose – my heart– every now and again.

Addiction couldn’t be eviscerated at the drop of a hat, but it could be managed. And with time, I’d get better.

I was getting better. I believed that. I saw that.

And that’s all that mattered.

Helphelps. Sounds stupid but it’s the truth.

Don’t be afraid to take back what you’re owed.

Happiness. Joy.

Hope.

Well that… and a little patience.

[Haha.]

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Scarlett wasn’t the best singer, I admit.

I didn’t mean it literally, you know. This isn’t that kind of story. Where of course, my best friend – mysoulmate, she’s some kind of hidden musician, twisting her mic around mine as we perform live in front of the world.

No, Scarlett hates crowds. That’ll never change.

How long has it been, since we worked on our new song together?No, not as manager and best friend, but as lovers and co-writers…

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