One Bossy Offer (132)

I put my finger in front of my mouth.

“I know. We can’t keep doing this and I’m not supposed to speak to you. Since I’m a sucker for punishment, I hope you’ll give me five minutes. Five minutes is all I’m asking, Jenn.”

She frowns, folding her arms in front of her chest with a wary look.

She hasn’t sent me packing into exile yet.

I’ll take it.

I have the placards under my arm, arranged in order, and I hold the first one up.

It’s a scene I painted days ago, the silhouette of a man reaching for a woman in a lush summer garden. The woman turns away, her face ghostly pale.

Between them, there’s a wall of jagged words shaped like barbed wire, an entire thesaurus of synonyms for hurt, heartbreak, anger, and confusion.

“You decided we shouldn’t speak to each other. Since I’ll always respect your wishes, I had to find another way to say this. Here it is,” I tell her.

The man can’t reach through the barbed wire fence of words to his lady.

She inhales slowly and turns her head. Probably hoping I don’t see her hiding a sad laugh.

I let the first placard fall to the ground at my feet.

Number two shows the silhouette of a beautiful woman flanked by two hulking black and white dogs. They’re all standing just inside the very same doorway I’m looking into right now.

The man has one hand on each side of the doorframe. He’s peering down at her and she’s staring up at him, magnetic lines of attraction pulling them together in tiny black hearts only the dogs can see.

The caption reads, Until I met you...

Once I’m sure she’s read it, I drop it.

The next painting has my misshapen silhouette. I’m sitting at my desk, surrounded by piles of reports and half-finished paintings.

This was my life. This was all I had, it reads.

I let go. On to the next.

Then along came you.

Our silhouettes are calmer, humanlike shadows with neat lines and soft neutrals. We’re sitting together in Lottie’s garden, just the way I remembered it when the old woman was still in her prime.

Jenn nods like she’s urging me onward, so I drop the placard.

Life finally made sense like I never knew it could.

Her silhouette stands against the railing on the deck of my yacht. I’m behind her with my arms locked around her waist.

Yes, it’s almost that goofy-ass pose from Titanic, but with her, it isn’t silly at all.

I let go, revealing the next scene.

Life was worth its weight in gold.

Two orange silhouettes are twisted together like twin flames, locked in an intimate kiss lit by an orange sunset over the warm red ocean.

Again, I release it, and it clatters to the ground.

You became my logic.

My treasure.

My only true love.

The scene shows me sitting at the desk in my home office. She’s in my lap. The ceiling above blurs into a night sky lit by a thousand little pinprick stars shaped like tiny blue-white hearts.

Next card.

Before you, my biggest regret.

In the background, there’s a shadow of a man handcuffed to a bed. But the center of the picture is a vibrating cell phone with a skull flashing across the screen, and a dozen black flies circling it.

She sighs and nods slowly.

I throw this placard down harder than the others.

After you, only one.

We’re strolling through Pinnacle Pointe. She’s walking Cream and I have Coffee. Both of the Dobermans are painted with huge panting smiles.

The placard drops.

The next scene shows a woman’s jagged silhouette limping away while a pitch-black shadow of a man stands beside her, stupidly watching.

My biggest mistake. Forever.

A tear cuts down her cheek and she twists her head to wipe it away.

Shit, am I hurting her again?

Reminding her how absolutely stupid I can be?

I let the card fall with a loud crash against the ground.

The next picture is my silhouette with a fractured red heart in my chest.

No caption necessary.

Down it goes.

Now, a silhouette of a woman in the center. She’s wearing a cape with one hand resting on her hip. Her other arm is up in a triumphant power pose.

It’s surrounded by small vignettes of the female superhero directing a creative team, corralling two massive dogs, running an inn, and finally, handing me the two shattered halves of my own heart.

You put me back together, and I still broke us.

I look at her.

Jenn’s hands hang loosely at her sides now. No longer folded protectively across her chest.

Goddamn, please let that be a sign.

“M-Miles...” she stammers.

I let the painting fall and hold up the next.

Every day, you’re so close.

The silhouettes stand in the lush garden again with their backs turned, a wall of night between them.

Next scene.

But so damn far away.

This painting is almost identical to the last, but the barbed wire fence of words is back.

I drop the card quickly, revealing the final scene.

My breath is molten lead in my lungs.

I don’t want to give up on her. On us.

But I’ve put everything on the line here.

If she rejects me again, after this, I’m not sure when I can take another beating. I’ll have no choice but to crawl back to my house with my tail between my legs.