Page 111 of Finding New Dreams

“Don’t worry about it, sweetheart.” Don’t leave me yet.

“Actually, I was thinking you could take it with you. I don’t—” Her voice caught, and she cleared her throat. “I want you to have it.”

I kissed the top of her head. “If that’s what you want.”

Lilac disappeared under burning orange, which brightened to gold. The light didn’t care if I wanted the shadows to stick around longer.

Morning was here.

“I should go,” I whispered, kissing her forehead this time.

She twisted to look up at me, her dark eyes sad. “Thank you. For staying. And for last night.”

I’d thought about slipping out a few hours ago, after she fell asleep. But I couldn’t bring myself to do it. Especially if it hurt her more.

“Of course,” I said. I allowed myself one more lingering taste of her lips. “Try to get some more sleep.”

I ripped myself out of her bed, away from her warmth, and dressed in record time. Carefully folding the cloth around the painting, I tucked it under my arm and headed for the door.

I looked back once. She sat watching me, her hair tousled, the sheets wound around her body.

My chest ached.

“Goodbye, Rose,” I whispered so quietly I wasn’t sure she heard.

Then I left.

I waited until I slipped into my guest room at Chloe’s to unveil the painting. I laid it on the bed and slowly peeled back the cloth.

My eyes widened. It was like looking into a mirror. She’d drawn and painted me perfectly from my head to about mid-thigh. My hair was raked back, and my white t-shirt seemed to glow. Purple and green lights flashed behind and over me. My lips were tilted in a playful smirk.

And my eyes.

She’d paid special attention to them. So many tiny strokes and layered blues and greens. And the look in them. The whole expression of my face was one of desire and single-minded purpose.

I’d never seen that look on my own face, but I could feel it. Like my painted expression stoked that exact feeling.

Painting Me was staring straight out of the canvas. As if Rose had painted me looking directly at her.

But the lights? Those were from Laser Therapy. Was this how I’d looked at her that night?

It was certainly how I’d felt. And she’d captured it perfectly.

Why didn’t she want this anymore? Did she just not want a reminder of me with her? She’d kept all the other paintings we’d worked on together, as far as I knew.

My eyes traveled over every detail of the painting until I got to the bottom. There in the bottom-right corner, she’d scrawled: “Finding New Dreams – RR.”

I frowned. Did she mean she’d found a new dream, or that I had? I remembered saying something about living beyond our dreams and that I was so glad I’d found her that night. Maybe that was what she was referencing.

It must be her way of saying goodbye.

The cracks in my heart widened. I carefully tucked the painting next to my sunrise one under the bed, covering both. I’d take them with me, of course—I couldn’t bear to give up these painted pieces of us. They’d be the only proof I had of a dream I’d once lived.

But right now, I needed to sleep. And forget.

* * *

“Sunny and clear!” Chloe crowed over a huge mug of coffee.

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