Page 59 of Blank Canvas

I envy what they share so openly. Fingers crossed, one day in the near future, that will be me. Giggly and doe eyed and curled into Devlyn’s side while we spend time with loved ones.

“Here, Shelly,” Mom says as she hands me a gift.

I take the large, thin rectangular package. As I peel back the paper, I wonder if my parents framed our family photo from last Christmas. Wouldn’t be abnormal. With each passing year, my parents get more sentimental. Valuing time together and photographs over anything else.

I discard the paper and flip the frame over, prepared to plaster on my fake enthusiasm for an oversized family photo I won’t hang. Instead, my jaw drops and my heart stammers.

“Wha-What is this?” I mumble as the backs of my eyes sting.

“Isn’t it beautiful?” Mom asks as she leans into Dad. “A friend at work gave me the link to a local artist’s website. She wouldn’t shut up about his work. So, I went on and found this. The moment I saw it, I knew I had to get it. Like it was drawn for you.”

Not for me, I want to tell her.Thisisme.

Framed in light oak is an up-close view of a woman’s face. From just above the brow to the edge of the top lip, from the bridge of the nose to the lateral edge of the eye. The piece is in pencil with no color. Impeccable detail over every inch. A constellation mapped out in her eye.

The only pieces I have seen of Devlyn’s are what he painted at the shop and those from the gallery—which were also me. Perhaps that is why he didn’t let me into his studio while touring his house. Would it freak me out? Are there more images of my likeness in his studio? On his website? Something tells me there is a lot more where this came from.

“Let me see,” Peyton says.

I close my eyes briefly and swallow. The second Peyton takes in the image, she lifts a hand to her mouth and gasps. Micah may not pick up on the connection as quickly as Peyton. He doesn’t stare at his eyes like she does. Plus, Peyton was at the baby shower when I spilled my heart out about Devlyn.

“It’s…” She pauses and bites her bottom lip a moment. “It’s stunning.”

I restrain the tears begging to roll down my cheeks. Last thing I need is for Mom to think I don’t appreciate the gift. I do love it. More than any other gift I received.

Mom gifting this to me feels like another sign. A broadcast alert that my relationship with Devlyn is bigger than either of us realizes. How big exactly? I have no clue.

“It is,” I garble out then clear my throat and look to my smiling parents. “Thank you, Mom, Dad.”

Dessert goes by in a blur of apple pie and light chatter. The melodies and baritones of voices echo in my ears, but I miss everything said. My eyes continue to drift to the drawing in the oak frame.

When did Devlyn draw it? How long would it take to draw something with this level of detail? Days, maybe weeks. Plus, listing it online, processing the sale, shipping. Did he draw this shortly after coming back to the shop? Are there more drawings or paintings of me in his studio?

I shake my head to dispel the endless questions I have no way of answering. Instead, I zero back in on my family. Listen to Mom prattle on over the new client her firm attained. Listen to Dad tell tales of strange client stories as they buy an insurance policy. And listen to my brother and Peyton as they regale all the wonderful parts of married life.

Scooping apples, crust, and fresh whipped cream on my fork, I smile and respond and laugh at the appropriate times. Inside, I scream for the night to be over already. I pray to walk out the front door any second, so I can call the one person with the answers. And to ask Devlyn for a tour of his studio.

* * *

I’d rather goto Devlyn’s house than Jonas and Autumn’s. Less than forty-eight hours have passed since we were together, and every opportunity to see or speak with each other gets squashed by someone else. Not that I don’t want to spend time with loved ones, but I want time with Devlyn too. So I plaster on my best smile and trudge through each moment. Take deep breaths, remind myself to be grateful and that I will see Devlyn soon.

Our call when I left my parents’ house was short lived due to his mother pestering him in the background. Plus, if I don’t show at Friendsmas, my phone will blow up with unmerry threats and promises to come get me.

Over the last few hours, I’ve stared at the drawing gifted to me from my parents. Art with such precision and detail had to take Devlyn a while to draw. Weeks, possibly a month or more, to finish. The more I study it, the more intimate it feels. Like Devlyn spills his secrets through his art. The biggest secret of all… how he feels about me.

Artists don’t paint or draw the same person over and over or with such delicacy without a reason. What is Devlyn’s reason? When did I become his muse? Although it feels as if a lifetime has passed since October, our relationship beyond the friends stage is still so young. It’s difficult to imagine him creating such a piece months ago. Is this—his art—it can’t be…love.

Dizziness consumes me with the possibilities.

My heart has her hands in the air, hips swaying, as she screamsyesat the top of her lungs. My head, on the other hand, has calculators and spreadsheets and pro/con lists out. A scale on the desk, weighing emotions versus life. And I hate that my brain steals this moment of joy.

With the purchase of Petal and Vine a year out, my focus has been prepping for the business handoff. Getting all my financial ducks in a row. Albeit a good one, Devlyn has been a distraction. The type of distraction I haven’t had to deal with in the past. The type of distraction I need to learn how to balance in my life.

Hopping up from the couch, I take a few cleansing breaths. Close my eyes and hum with my inner zen master. Tell myself I am strong, I am capable, and I can accomplish anything I put my mind to. When I open my eyes, relief filters in.

I got this.

After a bite to eat and a shower, I dress in my comfiest jeans and long-sleeve V-neck pink sweater. I blow out my hair and dab on a light coat of natural makeup. Satisfied with my appearance, I slip on my matching pink Vans then grab my purse and gifts.

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