The door closed behind him, leaving me alone with thoughts too big to contain.
Back inside, I apologized to Mrs. Hendrickson and redid her stencil with hands that were finally steady. The simple initials turned out perfect. As she admired the finished product with tears gathering in her eyes, I felt a strange sense of resolution.
"It's perfect," she whispered, touching the skin around the fresh ink with reverence. "Howard would have loved it."
"How long were you married?" I asked, curious despite myself.
"Forty-three years." Her smile was soft with memory. "And do you know what? I almost didn't say yes when he proposed. I was so scared we were too different. He was this wild, creative soul, and I was a practical, planning type. I thought it could never work."
I paused in the middle of applying ointment. "What changed your mind?"
"He showed me a sketch he'd done of me." She laughed. "Turns out he'd been drawing me for months. Little moments of me reading in the park, waiting for the bus, laughing with friends. He saw me when I didn't know I was being seen." Her fingers hovered over the fresh tattoo. "That's when I knew it wasn't about being the same. It was about seeing each other with eyes wide open."
After my shift ended, I didn’t want to go home, so I took my Harley on a ride to try to clear my head. Mrs. Hendrickson's words echoed in my mind. I'd been drawing Olivia for years, capturing moments, expressions, the curve of her smile, the way she twisted her hair when she was thinking. But I'd never shown her. Never let her see how I saw her.
When I got home, I flipped on the lights and headed straight for the bedroom. The sketchbook was where I'd left it, tucked between the mattress and box spring. I pulled it out and sat on the edge of the bed, slowly flipping through the pages.
Olivia at nineteen, her hair in braids, laughing at something off the page.
Olivia at twenty-two, her graduation cap pinned in place, her eyes bright with possibility.
Olivia sleeping on my couch, one arm thrown above her head.
Olivia in the kitchen of my apartment, wearing one of my flannels, her hair up in a messy bun, making coffee.
I stopped at the last one, drawn only weeks ago. There was no mistaking the feeling in every line, the careful attention to the way the morning light caught her profile, the softness around her eyes, the way she occupied my space like she belonged there. Because she did belong there. She always had.
I pulled out my phone and scrolled through my contacts until I found the number of the guy who ran the summer concert series at the park. I’d given him a discount on his last tattoo, and he owed me a favor.
He answered on the third ring. "McCrae? What's up, man?"
"I need a favor," I said, my heart pounding. "For tomorrow night's Music in the Park."
After explaining what I needed, I hung up and stared at the sketchbook again. The fear was still there. A lifetime of insecurity doesn't vanish in an afternoon. But something else was stronger. Determination. Certainty.
Priest was right. It was time to stop drawing and start doing.
I spent the rest of the evening planning what I'd say, the words I'd use to tell her everything I should have said years ago. Nothing felt right. Everything I came up with was too sappy, too simple, too much, or not enough.
By midnight, I gave up on finding the perfect words and decided to trust that when the moment came, I'd know what to say. I'd have to speak from the heart for once instead of hiding behind silence.
I fell asleep with the sketchbook open next to me, Olivia's drawn smile the last thing I saw before closing my eyes.
Morning brought panic. What if this was a terrible idea? What if I made a fool of myself in front of the entire town? What if she didn't show up at all?
But underneath the fear was a certainty I couldn't ignore. Even if she rejected me, at least she'd know the truth. At least I wouldn't spend the rest of my life wondering what might have been.
I showered and dressed with intention in dark jeans and the blue button-down she'd once said brought out my eyes. I trimmed my beard and ran product through my hair, trying to tame it into something presentable.
The day crawled by so slowly that it was painful. I paced my apartment, reached out to my contact to make sure everything was set, and finally left for the concert early. I couldn’t stand waiting a second longer.
The park was already filling with families when I arrived. Kids ran between lawn chairs and picnic blankets. The smell of food trucks and summer heat hung in the air. I scanned the crowd for Olivia but didn't see her. According to Ruby, who I'd sworn to secrecy about my plan, she was coming but running late.
As the band started playing, I stood off to the side of the stage, watching the crowd, my heart in my throat. And then, finally, I saw her walking in with Ruby, wearing a simple white sundress that made her skin glow in the evening light. Her hair was down, catching the golden hour sunlight like spun copper.
She looked so beautiful it hurt. She looked like everything I'd ever wanted and been too afraid to reach for.
Ruby caught my eye across the crowd and gave me a subtle thumbs-up. I nodded, took a deep breath, and moved toward the stage steps.
