After All

Chapter Thirty-Two

Ryan had fallen asleep quickly, but my mind was too full to let me do the same. Wrapping the bed sheet around myself, I padded out of the bedroom and into the living room. Early morning light streamed in through the windows and I opened them to let the breeze in as well. It was quiet. I'd almost forgotten what silence like that sounded like, having gotten so used to the beeping horns, trucks backfiring, and endless conversations I heard out my city window at all hours of the day. Pictures on the wall drew my attention away, and I walked over to admire them. Over a dozen pictures of Jack, some with Ryan and some not, hung in chronological order. One of Ryan holding a tiny, plump baby all the way to Jack's most recent birthday, which was apparently super hero-themed. My smile grew as I studied each one, the faces of a little boy who looked so happy.

Suddenly inspired, I rushed back over to where I'd stowed my suitcase. Unzipping it, I pulled out my sketch pad and a fresh box of charcoals. Wrapping the sheet tighter under my arms, I sat on the floor in front of the pictures, moving the coffee table slightly to lean on. My attention focused on the first picture, and began sketching.

The lines and shading came easily, as I poured my heart into the piece. Unbeknownst to anyone, I had been sketching and painting pictures of Ryan for years, some from photographs while others were done purely from memory. The collection, hidden in the far recesses of my closet, spanned our entire relationship. But the lines on those were darker, the faces pained even in the happiest moments, as my grief had flowed into the work. But with those feelings of agony now replaced with pure joy and love, the charcoal strokes came lightly and easily. Sitting back to admire the piece once it was done, I knew it would forever be one of my most favorites. Light seemed to radiate off the page, and I smiled to myself as I leaned my head back on the couch.

When I opened my eyes a little while later, Ryan knelt next to me. His hair was wet and tousled, having just come from the shower. He'd changed into a pair of jeans and a plain grey t-shirt. And he had the most dazzling smile on his face.

"Now this is a sight I could get used to," he said softly.

"Oh yeah? What's that?" I reached up and ran my fingers through his hair, tugging his head down until his lips were on mine.

"You waking up in my apartment wearing only a sheet," he said with an impish gleam in his eye. "I got worried when I woke up and you weren't in bed." He sat down next to me, wrapping both the sheet and I in his arms.

"Sorry," I leaned my head against his chest. "I couldn't sleep."

"You okay?"

"Yeah, just a lot, you know?"

He nodded in agreement, both of us knowing we'd experienced the spectrum of emotions this weekend.

"I made you something," I said suddenly, sitting up and grabbing my drawing off the table and handing it to him.

Ryan took it from my hand and stared at it for almost a full minute before speaking.

I picked at my nails nervously, waiting for his reaction. The more time that passed, the more worried I became that maybe it hadn't been the right thing to do. "Ryan?" I eventually blurted out, unable to wait any longer.

"It's absolutely amazing," he breathed. "Seriously, Lily. I'm overwhelmed. I always knew you had talent, but this is incredible. You are incredible."

"Thank you. I'm glad you like it."

Ryan grabbed my chin, forcing my face upward. "I don't just like it. I love it." His lips were on mine, soft and slow, as if he was in no rush to ever stop. Not that I wanted him to.