“I called her dad to get her on the phone. Even he won’t let me talk to her. Fifteen years I’ve loved her, almost half my life, and now she won’t let me be there for her. Fucking kills. Deep down in my gut, it kills. And yet, if this is what she wants… if this is what will make her finally happy… shouldn’t I want that for her?”
He groans, shoves his hands through his hair again and plops his head to the back of the headrest. “I’m sorry, Gigi. You don’t need this bullshit. You didn’t even ask for this when we left.”
“Curse of the bartender,” I try to joke. Based on his lack of a smile, it doesn’t work. “In all seriousness, I’m sorry. That has to be hard for you. Fortunately, you just spilled all that to someone who’s happy to listen to you, happy to let you get that off your chest if you want and need it, but I have no advice. No sage wisdom for what you’re going through.”
He turns to me and licks his lips. “I think you’ve given me exactly what I need today. Thanks for listening.”
My lips twitch. “Anytime, hotshot.”
The last thing I notice before he turns to face the road and I do the same is his lips lifting at the corners.
Almost a smile.
Which makes me smile harder. I gave him that small grin.
I’m so glad I took advantage of the warmer weather and cloudless sky to get out and do some hiking instead of walking around the city like I usually do this time of year. It’s beautiful. With the temperature in the mid-fifties, I have a small line of sweat beading across my hairline and down my spine, and we’re barely halfway up the trail.
Next to me, Sebastian is keeping pace easily, making my workout seem like a daily stroll for him. I’d be angry about it if he didn’t look so good, if I couldn’t almost feel his stress and sadness evaporate with every quarter mile we walk, and if he wasn’t such good company.
The beauty of it is we’ve been quiet for the most part except for me telling him to pause when I stop to take pictures, or when he warns me of something in my way as I hide behind my camera lens. As soon as I took my camera out of my black bag, he offered to take the vinyl backpack that holds some water and snacks, my car keys, and wallet. Since it’s a pain to have that and the camera bag slapping my back and hip as I walk both bags are now slung over his shoulders giving me more freedom to pause whenever something catches my attention—whether it’s the birds, trees, or our view when we reach areas that allow us to see for miles.
We’re close to the top when Sebastian finally shows signs this has been a workout for him. Meanwhile, I’ve been huffing and puffing for the last mile. I grit my teeth so I don’t outright groan at one point. I can blame my shaking muscles. It’s most like the view I get when he takes off his shirt and tucks it into his waistband.
Dear sweet heaven… wowzers.
“You were an art major?” Sebastian asks, turning to me. He lifts one hand over his eyes to block the sun shining on us.
I glance at him and almost lose my footing. It should be a criminal offense to be so good-looking, so out of my league. All wrapped up in one forbidden and most likely, uninterested package.
“Yep. Before I took off to Europe, I worked at an interior design firm, but I always wanted to be a travel photographer.” I shove my eye to the camera and focus on the view.
“Is that what you liked working with the best?”
I hold up my camera and wiggle it. “Obviously, but I enjoyed all mediums. Watercolor paints were probably my best talent, though.”
“Did you have any of those in your apartment?”
“No. Pretty sure those are all in Dad’s attic in storage somewhere. I haven’t done much since I came back home.”
“But you like to go out and take photos? Just for the fun of it?”
I can’t tell if he’s teasing or genuine, so I lower my camera and risk stealing another breathtaking glance at him. When I do, Sebastian is at the peak of the path with me, hands on his hips. His gaze is out toward the horizon and I can’t help myself.
I turn and snap a photo of him.
He turns to me and grins. “What was that for?”
I glance at the screen. To his jawline. The turn of his lips I can barely pick out from the edges of his beard.
“You look sad. But peaceful.”
“Hmm.” He turns back to his view and rolls his shoulders. “Thanks for letting me come with you today. For forgiving me about last night.”
“I have an Instagram account.”
“Don’t most people?” His head falls to one side, along with his thick mop of hair.
What I wouldn’t give to be able to run my fingers through it. They itch to move, to twist a wayward curl behind his ear.
I focus on his question, still unsure if he’s teasing me or not. Hard to tell with all that solemnness he carries.
“I get out and take pictures around Charlotte and surrounding areas. Whatever I feel like, wherever I end up. I like showing people what they might be missing in their own back yards. I feel like people tend to get comfortable in their own areas, their own favorites. I want people to see the beauty in exploration, even if it’s simply a different neighborhood.”
He’s silent for a beat before he asks, “And you’re following?”
“Over forty-thousand.” I grin. It’s been less than a year and that’s pretty impressive. I don’t tell him some of my pics have been used in local travel brochures. Or that restaurants have asked to share photos to their website when I’ve tagged them. I don’t tell him about the freelance job offers that have come my way. It used to be all I ever wanted, to get paid to take photos, but I’m not sure I want my muse to come from someone else’s need to make a buck or two anymore.
“Is that still what you want to do? Professionally?”
“The only thing I used to want to be is a travel photographer. To get paid to see the world and take pictures of exotic locations.”
“And now?”
I let go of my camera so it hangs from its strap around my neck and step closer to him. Sometimes I need to remind myself to see and experience my own images out from behind the camera lens and screen. “Now, I don’t know. I loved the traveling I did. It was so thrilling. Exciting. Maybe partly scary since I was on my own. I learned so much about myself, about people and humanity in general. Then Dad had that scare…”
I can feel his interest on me, see the way his shadow is turned, paying attention to me, and I quickly blink away the emotion that threatens.
“I like being home too. I missed my dad when I was gone and until I can trust his health, I’m not sure I can leave again. He’s all I have.”
I shrug like the pain of losing my mom isn’t still as piercing as a knife to the chest. All these years later and I still wish I could hug her and run to her for advice. She probably would have cautioned me about marrying Evan in the first place. But then I wouldn’t be here. Enjoying this view with a guy who is easy to talk to, seemingly interested with his questions and not just along for the ride or being courteous.
“You’re very interesting, Gigi. I’m not sure I’ve ever met anyone like you before.”
And just like that, my heart trips all over itself. A bud of hope is planted before I can uproot it and toss it out.