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Reaching out a hand, Ben cups my face. “I’m so thankful I have you.”
I lean into his touch. “And I’m so thankful to haveyou.”
“Oh my God, I leave for seven seconds and you all start getting mushy. Disgusting.”
The smile in their voice betrays their words. “Sure, Park. I know you hate it when we get sappy. And who just waxed poetic about colors and masterpieces?”
They gasp. “Okay, fine. That was me. But damn, I’m anartist. It’s part of myprocess. You wouldn’t understand.”
Maybe I don’t fully understand their process, and maybe I don’t always understand their colors. But I understand this. The three of us. My love for them and their love for me and each other.ThatI do understand, and truly, that’s all I really need.
THE END
