“I don’t know; I’m enjoying the view.”
“Suit yourself.”
She throws the apron over her neck and then ties it around her waist. She sits in front of one of the canvases and grabs one of the larger brushes from the cup.
“What are you going to paint?” I ask, wrapping my hands low around her waist. She looks up at me and smiles.
“Can I paint you?”
“You just want to see me naked.” I kiss her. “I never thought I’d be a nude model.”
I wiggle my eyebrows at her as I start to remove my sweatshirt.
“Declan.” She shakes her head, but her chest moves with laughter. “Not that kind of model. Sit.”
She motions to the chair in front of the other easel, and I do as I’m told. She adjusts herself so I’m sitting in front of her rather than next to her.
“It’s been a while, so I’m a little rusty.”
And then she gets to work.
Ididn’t think she could get more beautiful until I sat in front of her and watched her paint. She goes to a different place with a brush in her hand and focuses on me in a way I’ve never seen anyone focus on anything. Not even me with hockey. Like she has to get every detail right… like if she misses something, the whole thing will be wrong.
She bites her bottom lip as she tilts her head, studying the painting in front of her and then studying my face.
“Okay, I think it's done.” She pauses, still studying the painting like maybe she missed something. I stand up, but she shakes her head. “I don’t think it’s ready yet.”
“You just said it was done.” I laugh.
“And now I’m saying it’s not ready.”
“Come on, let me see it.” She stands, blocking me from the picture. “Did you draw me naked anyway?” I tease. “If you’re worried you didn’t draw it big enough, I can take my pants off, and you can see for yourself.”
“I don’t know what I even see in you.”
“I don’t know what you see in me either.” I grab her by the hips and move her out of the way before studying the painting myself. “Holy shit.”
“I know, it’s bad.” She goes to grab it, and I stop her. “It’s been so long; I should’ve started with something simpler, like flowers. Or maybe just shapes, but definitely not—”
“Ember… it’s amazing.”
“You don’t have to lie; I can handle the truth, Declan.”
I feel like my heart is too big for my chest because it’s full of so much love right now. I love seeing myself from her perspective.
On the canvas is me doing the one thing I was born to do—play hockey. She got every detail and even added some small ones of her own. Like the furrow in my brow anytime I’m making a decision on the ice. All the blade marks on the ice, and even the guys in the background. They don’t have a lot of details, but I can see each of their tiny numbers.
“Where are we?” I study the background. It hits me right as she says, “The pond.”
Not only did she paint me doing the one thing I’ve always loved to do, but she painted me where I love to do it most. With people I love to do it with.
“I remember you telling me how, as much as you loved playing in arenas, you’ve never felt the rush you feel every time the pond near your house freezes over. And you’re able to play hockey with the guys. With no expectations. Or even just skate a—”
My lips are on hers before she can finish, swallowing the rest of her sentence.
“I love it. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” She scrunches her nose as she points down at my hoodie. “You got a little—”
