47. Della
DELLA
After I shut, lock, and pull the curtain, I sit on my couch and replay the interaction. My heart still hasn’t slowed; be that because he scared the shit out of me, or because Jaxon usually could make it race.
The truth I admitted to myself last night remains; I miss him.
When I pass him in the barn or hear that laugh, or catch him looking at me, I get sad.
The longing for something I thought was something.
But I’m not lying about wanting time to find me again.
The me that hasn’t been around since my mom died when I got saddled with enough guilt that would have put lesser people in the ground.
But haven’t I found more of myself here than I have since that terrible day? Wasn’t being here the reason I was doing exactly that?
Moving back to my painting room, I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror. Holy shit. I don’t have clothes on, I think as the laughter bubbles out of me. He sure kept it together.
But I continue to stare at my reflection as if it will talk back to me.
I’m so torn because just now, I told him I am leaving Amberheart and putting myself first, but last night, I was actively entertaining what Hazel and Molly were pitching about becoming the resident painter.
Not that I have to make that decision today, I haven’t officially broken my lease yet or anything, but I am tired of living in limbo.
I want to feel confident about a path, a next step.
Without the wedding painter idea, I was set on leaving, but now?
What if that option makes it make sense to stay?