Chapter 21

CHAPTER 21

Crickets are chirping in the cooling night air as I open the door for Cole for what should be our last portrait session. For some reason, I'm whispering when I say hi.

"Hi," he whispers back with a knowing grin as he follows me into the house.

"Fancy seeing you here," I say, trying for friendly banter as we both pause next to the kitchen. I will be a professional about this. I will be.

"Where do you want me?" The way he asks, in that velvet whisper with that cute grin, makes my blood heat. We're going to be twelve feet away from each other and yet it feels like I'm choreographing something much more intimate.

"Um, the same place at the dining room table," I reply. Come on, be professional, Tia. "I have everything set up already, and I made really good progress last weekend. I think I should be able to focus on the details of your face and finish up this time. Do you need anything to eat? Some water?"

"No, I'm set."

"Since I'm working on your face, we're going to have to not talk. Can you do that?" I tease.

"Sure." He smiles, settling down in his chair.

"Really?"

"Yes, Tia, really." He chuckles. "I'll set an alarm for when I have to start driving back, and we'll see how far we get."

I remember Lorraine saying if I trust my instincts, I can paint more intuitively, instead of trying to keep every detail perfect. This may be me painting the hot corpsman I have a massive crush on, but I need to set that aside and be Tia Lopez, artist and portrait painter. I take a deep breath and dive in.

Two and a half hours later, I set down my palette. Two and half hours of painting Cole's face, mostly focused on his eyes, but also filling in the details of his lips, his chin, his ear, and his expression. I wanted his eyes to show his determination, but also the hint of weariness that I see in him tonight especially. You can't show courage without showing the cost, the sacrifice. I take a small step back and study it.

"Do you love it?" Cole asks, breaking the silence.

"I do."

It's so good. It looks just like him and I love it. My breath is shaking as I exhale. Holy crap, it's good. In my eyes, the story I'm trying to tell translates into the final portrait and I'm so proud of it.

I'm so drawn in by all the details I've painted. I am dying to run my fingers over his nose, his forehead, his lips and feel them in real life. Feel the warmth and the life that's coming through in the painting, but in flesh and blood. I want to hug the painting, then hug him.

"Can I see it now?" he asks.

I haven't let him look at any part of it in case it turned out horribly and I needed to start over. Plus, a painting in progress never looks right. But this end result…this is everything I ever dreamed of painting.

I nod. "It's done."

I take a big step to the side as he comes over. I want him to have the space to see it without feeling pressured to say anything right away. My heart thumps, and I can't help biting my thumbnail. I want him to love it, but I also want him to be proud of himself, to feel like it's a strong portrait, not tacky or overly sentimental.

Cole comes around and stands in front of the easel, his hands on his hips as his eyes take in the painting. I hold my breath, waiting for the first reaction, a word, a look, a gesture.

The Cole of the portrait has his head turned and looking up into the light. There's a warm darkness all around him, to where the books and notebooks on the table are fading into the darker edges of the painting. But his face is lit up and unbowed, his eyes are determined and focused, his mouth is set with enough of a hint of a smile that you can tell he's eager and motivated for whatever comes next. I figured out how to paint his fade and buzzcut and he looks sharp, even in his USMC hoodie.

The living, breathing Cole laughs, a soft chuckle as he shakes his head. He turns and looks around the living room still shaking his head, his back to the painting, like he can't quite process it all in one moment. It's quiet, the subtle tick of a clock in the living room the only hurried sound.

He comes back around and studies the painting again, taking a step further away, then tilting his head side to side. He finally looks at me, and the lamp light catches a watery shine in his eyes. "Is this how you see me?" he says in a hoarse whisper, pointing to the painting.

"How does it make you feel?" I ask with a soft smile.

He runs his hand over his hair. "I …don't know. I don't even know how to say it. It's the expression, the way you can tell he— I, I guess—wants this thing that he's working towards, no matter how hard it's going to be. And it's a worthy goal, worth the drive and the purpose. He's…someone to be proud of."

"He's brave," I say gently. "I couldn't have painted you any different, because this is who you are. Yes, Cole, this is exactly how I see you."

In two strides, Cole crosses the space between us and wraps me up in his arms, one low and squeezing around my waist, his other hand pressing my head to his heart. As quickly as he hugs me, he lets go and takes my face in his hands.

"You are incredible," he whispers, his eyes flickering with emotion. "Do you know that? You are incredible."

I want to argue, to remind him that he is equally, if not more, incredible. But instead I grab big fistfuls of his sweatshirt, pull him to me, and tilt my chin up as he drops his mouth to mine.

There's wonder and awe, gratitude and desire in each press of his lips. His hand slips around the back of my head and into my hair as he pulls me closer to him, deepening our kiss with desperation, like he needs more than kissing, he needs me .

My hands grip his biceps, matching him kiss for kiss. Feeling wanted like this, desired—it sweeps my feet out from under me and takes me somewhere I've never been before, into a swirl of emotion that goes deeper than the physical relief of kissing him again. My hand slides up the back of his neck and over his short, velvety hair. I kiss him back, unashamedly, with wild abandon.

Being kissed by Cole makes me feel like the entire world was created solely for the ultimate purpose of love, that there is nothing more worthwhile than truly loving and being loved.

His body is sure and strong, and his muscles flex around me as he holds me close, gradually slowing down each press of our lips until his forehead is resting against mine and his chest is rising and falling as we both try to catch our breath.

Cole's alarm blares out, jarring us, bringing a sense of reality back into focus.

"I have to go," Cole whispers.

I'm so breathless, I can only nod and watch him pack up his stuff in a whirlwind.

"Good night," he says, pressing a kiss to my neck that leaves me nearly unable to stand, and then he's gone.

I look over at the easel, at Cole's immortalized face. What have we done?

I can't sleep. I'm still blushing hours later and rethinking all my life choices. There was a moment where he held me so tight, stole all of my breath in a long kiss, and I lost myself in him. Tia and Cole didn't exist anymore, there was only us . I've never known anything like it and all I want is that, over and over and over again. But as the feeling fades in the dawn light, I know that I can't have that, unless I want it all—the good, the bad, and the Navy life.

As I drink my tea on the back patio in the subtle heat of the morning, my phone vibrates with a text from Cole.

Cole

Hi. Will you come to my pinning ceremony? I'm not forgetting about last night, I just wanted to invite you before I forget. It's on Friday, we just found out. Would you want to come?

A thousand conflicting feelings running through my head. Ultimately, I have to smile at the way he's compartmentalized everything.

Tia

Are you sure?

Cole

I really feel like we got the pin together, I couldn't have done it without you. Will you please come? I want you there.

Want is such a powerful word. He wants me there. My heartbeat thrums with want, want, want.

Tia

Okay. What do I wear? Is it like a formal ceremony?

Cole

Not formal.

Tia

Are jeans okay, or should I wear a casual dress or something nicer?

Cole

Probably the dress option. You coming?

Tia

I'll come.

Cole

Thank you. I promise we'll talk soon, but we're about to start a meeting. I swear, don't date Navy guys, they're the worst, they're always texting or calling, never showing up in person. So lame.

Tia

Lol, then explain why you're always down on Crown Island on the weekends. You live over an hour away and there's plenty of beaches and coffee shops between here and Oceanside.

Cole

I said don't date Navy guys, not don't date me. I'm always down there so I have a chance of seeing you and your cute little smile and your pretty brown eyes.

I gasp. Look at him, flirting and making me blush via text.

Tia

I see you trying to flatter me, Cole Slaeden. Why not just ask me to come hang out in La Jolla or something?

Cole

Because then it'd sound like a date and you'd get worried and you'd say no.

Tia

You've got Christiana Josefina María Lopez all figured out.

Cole

Is your full name really Christiana?

Tia

Yeah…

Cole

Holy crap.

Tia

What?

Cole

Nothing. Btw, work is getting wild, so if I don't text or call for a bit, I'm not ghosting you. Meetings about to start, I'll see you Friday.

Tia

Sounds good. See you then.

Summertime means people are traveling and visiting family and Lorraine is no exception. She's spending time with her sister in Michigan, so I have to wait a whole two days and a morning shift at Cafe 22 before I can show her the painting of Cole. I'm giddy as I hang up my apron before leaving work.

"What've you got going on the rest of the day?" asks Jules.

"Oh my gosh, I almost forgot to show you! I finished my painting for the gallery while you were in Portland." I pull up the photo and hold my phone up so she can see it while she stirs an iced latte together.

"Holy crap, girl!" She gasps as she leans in to study it closer. "Oh my gosh, you made him look so hot. Is it bad I kind of have a crush on him now? Oh, Tia, you did an amazing job."

"Thank you," I say with a blush, pocketing my phone. I come around the counter as she delivers the iced latte. "I'm going to go show Lorraine now and see if she'll accept it to go on display at the gallery."

"No doubt she's going to be thrilled," says Jules with a grin.

As soon as I step into the gallery, Lorraine and I give each other a big hug. She's only been gone a few days, but I find I've missed her like a dear friend.

"I've been thinking about you," she says with an emphatic squeeze to my shoulders. "How are you getting on?"

"Well, I think I have something for you." I pull out my phone with shaking hands and everything starts to feel surreal. My limbs feel like they're floating as I tap the photo, then set the phone on the counter in front of her.

Please love it so much.

Lorraine gasps, then grabs my arm, her bangles clacking together. It takes her a good minute to form any words. She picks up the phone and zooms in on different parts, every so often letting out another audible gasp.

"Tia, I am blown away. Oh, it is incredible. I love it! To think of all that you put into this…sweetheart, I am so, so proud of you."

Happiness doesn't begin to describe the elation I feel at Lorraine's praise. Not only that she's impressed with the painting, but she loves it, and she's proud of me.

"Then you'll accept it to the gallery?" I ask, shaking on the inside.

"Absolutely! How much are you going to price it for? Keep in mind I'll keep a small commission."

"Um…" My brain's excited race of happiness is not slowing down to think of something like prices. "I really don't know." Numbers, money, what are they in comparison to love and art?

"Do a thousand," says Lorraine.

"What? No, I couldn't."

"You want someone to come in off the street and buy this masterpiece for two hundred dollars?"

"No, definitely not. Five hundred?" I shrug.

"But it's him," Lorraine says, pointing to Cole's face on my phone. "He's your breakthrough, your muse. Artists get a special touch when they paint something they love, I see it here. He is someone special to you, he holds your heart."

Cole is someone special to me. I don't think either of us holds the other's heart, per say, but there is a part of me that wants to bottle him up and keep him all to myself, to not let him share any laughs, glances, or kisses with anyone else, ever. But there's another, more rational part of me that knows I need to let go, back up, step away.

He holds your heart.

We settle on the price and talk through a few more details, but I keep thinking about what Lorraine said as I walk home.

This feeling of knowing someone and being known on such an intimate level, the trust and peace and friendship combined with the swirling desire and heady passion—now that I've felt what it's like, I want it to have a permanent part in my life. Cole once asked how I'll make a decision about who to commit to in the future and I know my answer. If they make me feel the way I do now, I'll be ready to marry in a heartbeat.

As long as they're not in the military.