Page 33 of The Art of Professing Love

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.”

27

SYLVAN

It was dangerous to be so close to Irving with no one else around to keep us in check, so I was grateful to get out of the apartment and onto the street. The wind had picked up since we first stepped inside, and I could hardly hear his voice over the gusts.

“Should we go to the woods?” I yelled, squinting in the wind. “We’ll be more protected from all this.”

“Yes, let’s,” Irving called back.

We jogged into the forest together, and for a second, I almost grabbed his hand. Then I remembered that we were nothing more than friends if even that, and I kept my hand glued to my side.

The trees in the forest were tall and thick enough to block out most of the wind, and once we reached their shelter, we were able to lower our voices.

“I have to tell you something,” I confessed to Irving. “I did feel bad about those photos, but I didn’t want to make it a big deal since your ex was involved.”

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