“Not yet,” I admit. “I want it to be at the perfect moment.”
“Always searching for an experience?”
“IneverythingI do,” I confirm. “I don’t want to live my life with regrets.”
He wraps his arm over my shoulders and I rest my arm across his waist.
“I’m ready.”
I laugh. “You have no idea what you’re asking for.”
“Oh, but I do.”
22
EASTON
Same day
We stand close, staring at the tall mountain peaks. As her hair blows in the warm breeze, I can smell her strawberry shampoo and the sweetness of her skin.
Summer is my favorite season to visit Grand Teton. The wildlife is active, flowers are in bloom, and the temperatures during the day are perfect. The company makes it even better.
“What did you want to be when you grew up?” I ask.
“You first,” she says.
“CEO first.President second,” I admit.
“Your answerdoesn’tsurprise me.”
I snicker. “At one point, I heavily considered becoming an artist.” I pause. “Now, that’s something only Weston knows. Facts from the vault.”
Sharing the real me with her is easy because she never judges and she’s never shocked by my admissions.
“Really? Do you paint?”
“I draw.” I pull the small spiral notebook from my pocket and offer it to her. “I’ve never let anyone see these.”
She takes it, studying the worn cover, rubbing her thumb across the curled edge, but she doesn’t open it immediately. “Are you sure? It’s very …personal.”
“It is, but Iwantto share these with you.”
Lexi lifts the cover and starts at the beginning, studying each one like she’s saving them to memory. They’re all scribbled in black ink, beginning in January.
“This is your life in little moments.” Amazement fills her tone.
“Tiny butsignificantmoments,” I say, and her eyes soften. “The highlight reel.”
“Easton,” she whispers after a few minutes, her fingers brushing over the pages as recognition meets her expression. “These areourmoments.”
It’s the Tower Penthouse, her reading at the park with the flourishing scene around her, whiskey at the bar, our motorcycle ride together, the diamond in the sky, the yacht, our plane ride, and being here. It’s been eleven days, but these are the moments that count. It already feels like I’ve known her for a lifetime.
I’ve always heard this happens when youclickwith someone, but it’s the first time I’ve experienced it.
“This is … incredible.You’re incredible,” she softly says.
Then, she turns to the last one I drew this morning—of her lying in my bed with her back toward me. Dark hair splashes across the pillows. She makes filling the blank pages easy.