26. Irving

26

IRVING

" T hank you, Derek. I'll have a look at the paper tonight." I took the extra credit paper from my student and set it off to one side of my desk.

"Are you sure, Professor Scott? Because I don't mind if you take your time. I'm sure you're very busy."

He gave me a hopeful look, but I shook my head back at him. "No, it's no trouble at all. It's not as if I have anything else planned. I'll post your revised score tomorrow, so keep an eye out."

His face fell. "Thanks, Professor, I'll do that."

Derek left and I returned to my work, allowing my mind to drift back to a few months ago when I had every reason to leave early and come in late the next morning. Sylvan and I were still together then, and though our relationship had been brief, it was every bit as passionate and impactful as spending years by his side.

If it hadn't been for those damn photos Lachlan unburied, we might have still been together and looking forward to those many wonderful years I fantasized about. In truth, it was Sylvan's attitude about it that drove me to break up with him. I never told him that outright, but he knew. He was always more perceptive than I gave him credit for, even in his more scatterbrained moments.

Even that little mishap didn't matter to me anymore. Now that I looked back, months later, I could see how puerile my thoughts were. Sylvan had loved me, and that was all that mattered. How could I not have understood that?

I began to gather my things to head back home, slipping my winter coat over my suit and wrapping a scarf around my neck before I stepped out of the office. It was the end of November, and with the many other late-season changes came frozen chills and bitter winds. Winter was just around the corner.

"I wonder what Sylvan's cabin looks like in wintertime," I mused while I defrosted my car's windshield. "It must be the picture of beauty."

He probably had a painting of it somewhere. Perhaps I would be lucky enough to see it hanging in a museum one day. I'd laughed at his art once, but now I had no idea why. Now it was perfect and beautiful and an extension of the incredible mind he possessed.

I pulled out onto the road, passing by the library with an unquenchable longing in my heart. I was never using the matchmaking service again, but my only connection to Sylvan was in there, and every time I had to speak to them, they reminded me of that missing piece in my heart that I thought would have mended itself by now.

The worst part about going home these days, apart from not taking the long drive to Sylvan's house with the knowledge that the reward at the end was well worth the trip, was walking into my bedroom and seeing that goddamned painting he gave me before we were even together. He knew at the time that I couldn't resist his charms, yet he let me come to that conclusion myself – after a few more spats.

I took the steps to my apartment one at a time, my feet dragging under the weight of exhaustion. How I ever had energy for Sylvan after days like today was beyond me. My only answer was that he made me feel energized. Whether it was his fae sensibilities or simply his own energy transferring to me, I had no idea. All I knew was that I missed it and I wanted it back.

I wanted Sylvan back. I'd been suppressing that thought since we broke up, but now with all those thoughts of Sylvan swirling in my head, they'd reared their ugly heads again.

I fished my keys out of my pocket and looked up as I approached the door, stopping dead in my tracks. A package stood at the foot of it, and behind that package was a copper-haired, freckle-faced fae.

"What are you doing here?" I asked, all the air in the corridor suddenly sucked out, leaving me breathless and lightheaded.

Sylvan blinked once before smiling. "I…have a present for you."

"Another one?"

"Yes. May I come in? I've been standing out here for nearly an hour – I couldn't remember what time you got off work."

I nodded quickly. "Of course, of course. Let me unlock the door."

Sylvan had never been in my apartment before, but I supposed now was as good a time as any. It wasn't as if he was ever going to get another chance to see it again.

"It's nice," he said, pausing to inspect every little detail. "Yes, very nice. Not my style at all, but I can see why someone like you would like it."

I chuckled. "Should I be offended by that statement?"

Sylvan turned on his heel to face me. "Oh, not at all. I'm sorry, Irving. It's been so long since we last saw each other and I wanted to make a good impression." His face was as sincere as it could possibly be, and it was making my heart melt more by the second.

I needed to remain strong, lest this night end the way dozens of others did with him in the past. "What kind of present did you bring me?" I asked, changing the subject. "A painting, I presume?"

"You presume correctly. Here, open it."

I tore the paper off, pulling the canvas out when enough of the wrapping was gone. I turned it over so I could see the art, my heart dropping into my stomach as I took it in.

"Sylvan, it's…"

"Beautiful?"

"Well, yes, but it's…us. Together."

Sylvan swallowed hard. "I know. I painted it before we broke up and I've been holding onto it ever since. Today when I looked outside, I noticed that the final leaf had fallen from that maple tree in the field and it was like a full reset for me. I realized that it was finally the right time to hand it over to you. If you don't want it, I understand. But please give it back to me – it would be a shame if it got thrown out –"

"I would never do that." I set the painting carefully against the couch, rubbing my palms on my trousers as I realized just how sweaty they'd gotten over the past few minutes. "Are you up for a walk? Because I think we need to talk."