Chapter 22
Chapter Twenty-Two
Izzy
The duality of joy and anxiety is the worst part of imposter syndrome. Each conflicting emotion is a force to be reckoned with, and they fight to the death to cancel the other out when you achieve something.
The negativity pops up sporadically and with no notice. One moment, you’re fine, and then the next, your inner voice gets too loud to ignore.
Remember all that you’ve accomplished and how proud you felt of yourself this year? Yeah, here’s a list of all the reasons you didn’t deserve it, just in case you forgot.
Inconvenient timing before receiving the biggest award of my career so far. Even worse, considering the word vomit voicemail I left Ledger a few hours ago.
Nights like tonight make you take stock of your life and the things you want. It was a goal of mine to achieve this award for a long time, and now that I’ve accomplished that, what’s next for me?
In every scenario I pictured, Ledger was there.
It scared me to think that way, but it’s his own fault for being so damn supportive.
The sweet things he says to me over the phone, the way he pays attention and remembers everything that I mention and the calm that comes over me every time I remember our weekend together .
. . it’s hell trying to ignore it or feed into the theory that no woman in her right mind could feel that way about someone so quickly.
Getting ready for tonight, my emotions were raw, and I called him to talk about things more serious than how was your day. The call went to voicemail, and I couldn’t stop myself from admitting every wild thought I’ve had about him in the last month.
Dread sets in as I check my phone one last time to find that he still hasn’t called back.
Realizing I don’t have time to sulk, I rein in the emotion for now.
In an act of confidence, I straighten my shoulders and sit as tall as I can.
Smoothing my palms over the front of my dress, I lift my chin and shift my focus to the audio playing over the speaker instead of the sea of people seated around me in the auditorium.
I have no choice but to put the anxious thoughts about receiving this award and of Ledger behind me for the time being. Kindly fuck off, brain. This is my moment, and I’m not going to ruin it by buying into your trickery.
A soothing voiceover narrates while videos and pictures of my travels and published work paint the screen above the stage.
“In the editorial category, we recognize the photographer whose images convey the most striking message. In publication, the shots used must tell a story. Our next award winner does so uniquely by including the human experience immersed in the elements of nature. Her portfolio this year is impressively international and is highlighted by her most recent image chosen as the upcoming cover of Cowgirl Magazine. Please help me in congratulating the accomplished Isadora Blake.”
Running on pure adrenaline, my feet carry me from my seat in the second row, up the stairs, and finally to center stage.
I’m vaguely aware of the surrounding applause, but I don’t acknowledge it yet.
Instead, I stop with my back to the crowd.
A smile breaks out across my face at the picture of Ledger’s mom on the screen.
It’s a once-in-a-lifetime picture, and I’m so glad it’s getting the appreciation that I’d hoped it would.
“This way,” a voice whispers in my ear.
The woman holding the crystal oval-shaped award places a hand on my arm, leading me toward the podium. I take the award from her, clutching it in my hands while I step closer to the microphone.
“Thank you,” I say, still wearing a broad smile. The applause dies down, and I take a deep breath. “I love my job so much. Just—thank you. Again.”
The crowd laughs, with a few scattered claps.
“I knew exactly what I wanted to do from a very young age: travel and take pictures. Recently, I—” Oh no.
I refuse to choke up, but emotion bubbles up despite my protests, and I have to clear my throat.
“Recently, I visited a special place. The people there . . . I can’t forget it.
It was a life is worth living moment, you know? ”
Suddenly, the lights overhead feel a little too bright.
My neck feels red, and I know I need to wrap this up.
The enormity of this recognition feels more lonely than it did just moments ago.
I swore I wouldn’t, but I let my thoughts drift to the pictures from my weekend in Wyoming.
They can’t compare to the real thing, but their images flash through my mind one by one as I try to articulate the feeling.
Why now? I scold my heart. This is the last thing I should be thinking about right now.
“Photography led me to that, and it’s given me so much more too. There are more places to see, and I can’t even begin to tell you how—”
The disbelief is tangible in each of the next three quick breaths I take. My hand hovers over my brow, trying desperately to block the blinding light that is surely making me see things. It’s merely an outline that I spot near the side exit of the auditorium, but I’d know it anywhere.
He’s leaning against the wall. The cowboy hat. The long legs and broad chest . . . all impossible to mistake for anyone else.
“I’ve got to go,” I rush out without taking my eyes off of him.
There are a few confused mutterings from the crowd, but I tune them out.
As quickly as I can in heels, I shuffle away from the podium, only to turn right back around and lean forward, taking the slim microphone in my hands.
“Oh, and thank you, Mom and Dad! I love you! Goodnight!”
It’s anything but elegant, the way I rush off the stage. I recognize a friend behind the curtain, and without stopping or saying a word, I place my award in her hands.
The lights have dimmed, and the next category winner is already being introduced, but I focus on not falling flat on my face as I skip the bottom of the steps that lead from the stage to the audience.
I get a few curious looks as I fly by the rows of people. My dress is bunched into both fists, and I lift it off the floor, picking up speed the closer I get. When I reach the spot that I thought I saw him in, there’s nothing there.
Panting, I spin around, thinking maybe he found a seat and didn’t realize I’d be coming down here. Stopping my gaze on the exit door, I walk forward, deciding to push it open, and immediately see him climbing the stairs to the lobby.
“Where do you think you’re going?”
The door closes softly behind me, and he freezes in his tracks. When he turns around, I don’t waste time—lifting the skirt of my dress again and rushing toward him.
He removes his hat in that slow and steady way that’s so uniquely him. His mouth tips up in that familiar crooked grin, but it quickly softens into something deeper as our eyes lock.
My heels clatter against the slick, polished floor, and with every step, my heart cracks open a little more. With a few feet to go, he closes the final length of distance with two large steps. He bends at the knees, and I jump off both feet.
I don’t care how dramatic it might be. I fucking missed him, and I’ll jump into his stupidly strong arms if I damn well please.
I can’t exactly wrap my legs around him like I want to, but our chests press together, and he buries his face in my hair while I smile at the ceiling. He doesn’t stumble back, and I love that I can feel the familiar rock-steady weight of his body against mine again.
He smells exactly like I remember.
“I needed some fresh air and was getting antsy in there, seeing you and not being able to touch you or talk to you yet.”
Tears burn in my eyes, and I pull back just enough to look at him. But seeing and feeling him isn’t enough. I thread my hands through the hair at the base of his neck, pulling him toward me and letting him know how happy I am that he’s here with a kiss.
Every ache from being away from him for a month dissipates as our bodies melt into one another. I part my lips against his, inviting him in. His tongue dances with mine as my chest fully deflates in relief to be in this exact position again.
I’ve been clinging to the hope that our story wasn’t over before it ever had a chance to begin. And the way his arms wrap tighter around me with every passing second tells me that we’ve been on the same page this whole time, each too fearful of the potential fallout if we voiced it out loud.
I can’t help myself, pulling away for just a moment to practice my newfound confidence in asking him exactly what I want to know. “What are you thinking?”
“That this is how I was hoping this would go,” he chuckles between heavy breaths.
“It is?”
He nods, then rests his forehead against mine.
“Did you have doubts or something?” I giggle, lifting my chin for another quick kiss between words.
“Well, we’ve been playing phone tag for a few days,” he says in a low whisper, like it’s been bothering him. “I was already on my way to you when I got your voicemail.”
“You flew halfway across the country.”
“I did.” He searches my eyes and runs his thumb back and forth along the small of my back. “And I’d do it again. A hundred times.”
The apples of my cheeks tickle, and I realize a tear has slipped from the outer corner of my eye and is trailing down my face.
New York City is a long way from Wyoming.
A trip here couldn’t have been cheap or convenient for him, but I get the feeling those little bumps in the road didn’t cross his mind when he decided to make the trip.
“Don’t cry, baby.”
He wanted to be here, so he came. He said he’d do it again, a hundred times—all without asking me to travel less or carve time away from my career to make him happy. He doesn’t need that to be happy. He just needs me as I am, wherever that may be.
So, of course I’m crying. The limit to what I’d do to make this work with him no longer exists, knowing the effort he’s willing to put in in return. I needed that reassurance from him.
He’s standing here in front of me, I’m in his arms, and it’s living proof that I wasn’t imagining this thing between us. I wasn’t losing my mind when I thought a man who took initiative was worth waiting for.
“Izzy?”
My head whips in the direction of the stairs, recognizing the voice. “Dad?”
Ledger takes a step back, swiftly lifting me and then setting me on my feet in front of him. I see it the second the urge hits him to hide his hands in his pockets, but I slide my palm into his, threading our fingers together.
“Sensational speech, honey.” Dad beams as he approaches us. Mom isn’t far behind him, and he strings her along with their hands intertwined like mine and Ledger’s.
“It was a very subpar speech, but thank you,” I laugh. Without letting go of Ledger’s hand, I lean in for a hug from them both. Mom eyes me with a raised brow like she’s anticipating an introduction.
“Mom, Dad, this is my boyfriend, Ledger.”
My head turns slowly to gauge his reaction. He’s already focused on me with a smile warmer than any other I’ve seen him wear before. I think he liked hearing that as much as I liked saying it.
Mom goes in for a hug immediately, and then Dad extends his hand between them.
“It’s good to meet you.”
Ledger drops our connection momentarily to shake my dad’s hand.
“Now, what are your intentions with my daughter?” Dad growls with his brows slammed together. I roll my eyes and snicker at Ledger’s hard swallow. Not a moment later, Dad laughs and reaches up to slap him on the shoulder. “Ah, I’m just kidding. Always wanted to say that.”
I take Ledger’s hand in mine once again, and he squeezes his fingers around mine.
“Are we still doing brunch tomorrow?” I ask.
“Of course!” Mom replies while Dad loops his arm around her waist.
“You could join us for dinner,” Ledger suggests. “Grill me if you want.”
That puts a smile on my dad’s face, but I lean into Ledger and place my free hand flat on his abdomen. Like hell am I having a family dinner instead of taking this man directly back to my hotel room.
“I’m so tired,” I lie. I look up at him, hoping he telepathically hears me telling him that I want him to myself as soon as possible. “They can smother you with questions in the morning.”
He nods, placing his hat back on his head. With a satisfied smile, I lean my cheek against his bicep, curling my arm through his.
“Fine by us, honey. Have fun, love you!” Mom sing-songs. She spins on her heel, whisking Dad away with her. As they scurry up the stairs, I laugh, thankful for an intuitive mother.
“I should give a few personal thank yous and grab my things. Then we can go,” I say.
We stroll hand in hand back to the auditorium.
The whirlwind of relief hits me once again as he stops to bend down for a kiss while holding the door for me.
Since I promised myself I’d be open to these types of upfront and honest conversations with him from now on, I let the lingering question roll off my tongue before stepping through the door.
“What will this look like? You and me?”
He cups his hand around my jaw and holds my gaze with a promising gleam in his eye.
“Are you up for staying with me when you’re not traveling?”
My eyes light up, and I nod through more tears. I’m so up for that.
“Then it looks like me going with you as much as I can. And you working closer to home sometimes too, if that’s what you want.”
“It is,” I whisper.
“I’ve never wanted anything with anyone else so badly in my life, Iz.
You have to know that. I can’t paint a perfect picture for you, or predict that everything will work out exactly like I want it to.
” He shakes his head and takes a deep breath.
“But if knowing I want you this much is good enough for now, then we’ll cross every bridge together when we get to them. ”
My jaw is on the floor, I’m sure of it. I don’t think I’ve ever heard him string that many words together at a time to get his point across. His bold promises settle into my brain, and I know right then and there that they’ll never leave me.
“Where’s my quiet cowboy, and what did you do with him?”
I expect to hear his familiar chuckle, but his expression remains serious.
“I can’t hold back when it comes to you.”
And just like the view through my camera, when a shot finally begins to make sense to me, the whole world shifts into focus.