Then Theo cocked his head to one side. “I also thought about how it felt to be the subject of your work.”
“And?”
His voice dropped. “It was like being held, even when I wasn’t in the room.”
I reached out, brushing my thumb over Theo’s knuckles. “That’s exactly how I meant it.”
His fingers curled around mine, and he let out a breath. “You know what? Being seen didn’t break me.”
Relief flooded through me in a slow tide, and I didn’t hesitate. I took him in my arms and held him.
Theo sought my lips and we kissed, unhurried, tender, a connection without words.
“Can we do this in bed?” he asked.
I smiled. “I thought you’d never ask.”
Theo
It was strange how quickly the noise faded once the lights were low.
I lay on my side, Cameron warm and solid against me, the steady rise and fall of his chest a rhythm I could finally match. The world had been pushed gently but firmly to beyond the bedroom door.
For once, I wasn’t braced.
More often than not, my mind was a crowded room of contingencies and corrections, but now it felt still, not empty but settled, like a piece of music resolving into a chord I hadn’t known I’d been reaching for.
Being seen didn’t break me.
That thought echoed again, less like a revelation and more like a truth I could carry.
I’d spent so long believing that exposure was damage, that letting someone see me fully—body, heart, fear and all—would cost me something I couldn’t afford to lose. Control. Dignity.
Myself.
But Cameron hadn’t taken anything.
I shifted slightly, careful not to wake him, and let my fingers rest against Cameron’s wrist, feeling the pulse there, proof of his presence.
Proof this was real.
Whatever tomorrow might bring, I knew one thing for certain.
I wasn’t alone in it, and for the first time in my adult life, that didn’t feel like a risk.
I closed my eyes, Cameron’s warmth anchoring me, and let myself believe, if only for one night, that everything was going to be all right.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Theo
I glancedat Cameron’s text.
I’ll be home soon. Just getting ready for tomorrow night.
I had to smile. I didn’t know which of us was more nervous about the opening of the exhibition. I typed:Don’t worry. Pizza for dinner. Can you pick it up on the way home?
No problem. Meat Feast gets my vote.