“There are many things that may pull you into caring for another human being,” Leo explained. He still held the attention of every member in the room, captivated by his words and his message. My captivating, beautiful man. “But always—always—it’s love that keeps you there.”
I swallowed and hugged my arms close to my body. Leo looked down toward me again.
“My Julie has this gift. She can create something from nothing.” It was suddenly just the two of us now, no one else. Though so many other sets of ears tuned into his talk, he was speaking only to me. Only for me. “It’s incredible to watch her work, to see life develop under her pencil, pour out from her fingers. I honestly don’t know anyone that can do what she does. She’s an artist in the deepest sense of the word: a life giver to everything she creates.”
I dug my fingernails into my side. My air fell out of me.
“But I don’t think she knows that her talent extends so far beyond that pencil and paper.” Eyes, all a blue haze of emotion, collided with mine and held them there. “Because Julie doesn’t just give life to her creations, she creates life in others. And that’s what she did in me.”
I had to cup my hand to my mouth to hold back the small yelps that threatened to sneak past. Sucking in a breath that sounded like a shiver, I nodded for him to continue.
I wasn’t the only one crying now, and I allowed myself that freedom as the streams of water spilled down my face. There was no sense in guarding my emotions when Leo was so vulnerably displaying his. It was an even exchange, just how things always were between us. To say that I loved him for it would never come close. I adored him. All of him.
“Julie, my love. You drew life out of me when I didn’t think there was any life left in there. You created hope in me when I’d given up all hope. And you’ve molded our lives into this beautiful future for me and for you and our sweet Isabella.”
Pausing, eyes closed, Leo smiled, a look of pure contentment cloaking his face.
“We ran into one another once in Italy in front of the statue of David. When I saw Julie, I had been thinking about how we were there just staring at this incredible figure, but that most of us hardly knew anything about the man responsible for it all. I wasn’t praising Michelangelo for his genius; I was simply appreciating the work of art, the end result. And truthfully, that hardly seemed fair,” Leo said. “So if you see me and congratulate me or read another article about my journey or my story—whether that be related to my battle with cancer or even my successes in business—know that she’s the one behind it. That it’s her dedication and her hard work and her blood and sweat and tears that have made me who I am today. She once said that I was her muse.” Leo looked down to me over the ledge of the podium. The pleat of his shoulders bunched as his arms slunk forward onto the stand. I hadn’t realized it, but my hands were clutched tightly to my chest. I kept them there, hovering just over my heart. “But she’s the one who created the man standing before you right now. And if I know anything about art, which she’ll probably tell you I don’t.” Laughter filtered through the room, some loud and raucous, others a stifled giggle. “I know that an artist pours their very soul into their work. And that’s what you, my love, have done with me. And my soul thanks you every single second of every single day for choosing our love to be your life’s greatest work.”
The hesitant pause of quiet gave way to an explosion of praise as everyone in attendance rose to their feet, palms meeting palms in an appreciative display of applause. The project manager of Leo’s new charity came up to the stage to begin her talk on how to donate to his latest venture as he made his way through the crowds and down to our table.
I was already standing just like everyone else, and when Leo reached me, he swung me into his chest and pressed his mouth deeply onto mine. I hadn’t bothered to wipe the tears from my eyes and my slick skin pressed onto his cheeks and it was honest and emotional and real.
“Did you get the box?” he asked, eyes glinting like a child’s.
I cringed a little in apology. “I didn’t open it.”
“Since when do you not open my gifts?” Leo pulled his head back and laughed and his shoulders bounced up and down with the motion.
“I don’t need any more gifts from you, Leo. You’ve already given me all of you, and there’s no way you’ll ever be able to top that. You really don’t even need to try.”
He smiled, that heart-stopping grin that changed my world all the way on the other side of the world just a few years ago. I could never have imagined that this is how it would all turn out. My dreams weren’t big enough back then. My canvas not large enough.
“Have I told you just how much I adore you?”
I giggled, pushing a hand onto his solid chest. I could feel his muscles pulse against my palm as I pressed in harder. “Yes. In fact you just told a room of about a thousand other strangers, too.”
“I’d tell the universe if I could,” he breathed into my hair, all low and raspy. I snaked my hand around his neck and held his face inches from mine. I’d memorized that face years ago, but every time I looked at him, I discovered something new. “I’m honestly the luckiest man on earth to have someone like you choose to love someone like me, Julie.”
I didn’t need to answer him, because Leo knew exactly how I felt. He would always know. I’d shown him every day just how much, and I would continue to show him until the day I died. He was my muse, and that wasn’t a one-time sort of thing. He was my daily inspiration. To be a better person. To be a better wife and mother. To love to the fullest and face each day, a new sketch just waiting to be drawn.
As he said, our love was my greatest work.
And this was our masterpiece. Leo and me and our sweet Isabella.
But when it came down to it, this was one work where I couldn’t rightfully take all of the credit.
Because looking back—at our whirlwind history and the hopeful future now mapped out before us—Leo had always been, and would always continue to be, the true artist behind it all.
THE END
A NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR
When I began writing Draw Me In, I didn’t know that Leo would have cancer. It truly wasn’t part of the original plan for the story. I knew he had a secret—that there would be something to keep them temporarily apart. But the more I thought about it, and once I settled into the initial surprise I first experienced, I couldn’t imagine the story any other way.
Because cancer is a surprise.
And certainly not a good one.
In the fall of 2007, my father experienced some unusual back pain. He was always a big bear of a man—larger than life—and I’d honestly never known him to be sick or ill before. But what felt like a pulled muscle ended up being Stage IV kidney cancer, and within eight months, it took his life. It was a fast, brave battle, and throughout the good majority of his treatments you’d never have any idea he even had cancer. But it changed me, losing the man that first taught me how to love, losing the person that showed me what it was to be strong even in the face of fear. My dad had always been my hero, but through his journey he became my warrior.
Dad never had the chance to know me as a writer, but his strength and his story have influenced so much of what pours out through my fingers and onto the keyboard. So writing Leo’s story was a cathartic process for me. I needed to write a cancer story that embodied hope. I needed that happy ending.
Somehow, in some way, Julie and Leo’s happy ending gave that to me, and I’m forever grateful for these characters for that gift. It’s my hope that they’ve given even just a small gift to you as well.
If you enjoyed their story, I would love if you would take the time to leave a quick review on amazon.com and Goodreads. And if you would like to read other contemporary romances of mine, please check out Demanding Ransom and The Rules of Regret.
Stay tuned for Walker’s story, Play the Part, available summer of 2014.
quires, Draw Me In
Draw Me In Page 28