And still, I was gawking at his home.
“Bryan, this is where you live?” I asked.
“Yep. Designed it myself if you couldn’t already tell.”
“I could,” I said, grinning. “It’s beautiful. How big is it?”
“Just shy of three thousand square feet. I didn’t want something too gaudy, but I wanted enough space to eventually expand into.”
“What do you mean?” I asked.
“Well, I don’t plan on staying single forever,” he said.
I looked up at him, and I could see his eyes dancing with his future plans. This strong, chiseled man who’d designed his own house, built his own company, and probably had a hand in building all the projects his company took on, was daydreaming in his spare time of a family. I couldn’t help but watch as the joy of that prospect rolled across his face, and the moment he looked down at me, he smiled.
“Wanna see the inside?” he asked.
“Hell yeah, I do.”
He took my hand and walked me inside. We were dumped into an open foyer with beautiful darkened hardwood floors. A massive staircase led up to a second story, and all I could do was gawk. There was so much room. So much space. I wal
ked down the hallway and rounded around into the kitchen, filled to the brim with stainless steel appliances. Over to the right was a huge living room with a television mounted on the wall and a small hallway that cased the back of the house. It dumped into a guest bedroom, one that was probably used by Drew if he ever came to stay over.
“There’s a basement I think you might enjoy,” he said into my ear.
“Lead the way.”
There was a door in the main hallway that he opened. He flicked on a light that exposed a delicate staircase, and I followed him down it as he continued to click on lights. The basement ran the entire length of the house, easily one thousand square feet on its own as I took in the layout. There was a small living area with a television to my right, a sprawling bedroom area to my left, and behind me in a little caddy corner was a bathroom and shower combination.
He had an entire living space down here, minus a kitchen.
But it was the walls that caught my attention. The walls that were lined with various drawings. Sketches that had been framed and shaded geometric patterns that had been encased and preserved over the years. I saw a few paintings, some scenic pictures and some painted animals. I ran my eyes along each and every one of them, studying them as my smile grew wider. These were all paintings and drawing Bryan had done over the years. He’d painted and drawn every single one of them, and I was standing in awe of the work he was capable of.
The artistic expression that flowed through the utensils he used to create these portraits.
But there was one that caught my eye. One that I knew Bryan hadn’t done. The log cabin painting came into view at the very end of the line, where the wall stopped and took a turn to span the width of the room.
It was the tattoo he had on his lower back.
John’s high school cabin painting.
I was stunned. Rooted to my place. I was standing in front of the original painting. The painting that seemed to be a pervading theme throughout the course of our relationship. This painting seemed to hold a sort of innocence with Bryan, but to me, it seemed to be this thin connecting string that strung all of us together. This idea John had that he’d latched onto, of brotherly love and familial innocence, it had followed him throughout his entire lifetime.
I felt tears rush to my eyes as Bryan’s hand descended onto my lower back.
“I had this picture blown up and put in my original office. It’s now Drew’s office alone, but he wanted to keep the painting up there,” he said.
“It’s...”
I had no words. I was looking at the original painting while seeing the painting I had in my possession in the back of my mind. The painting John did for me back when I was in L.A. was more detailed, more fleshed out, but it was definitely the same cabin.
And he had painted these pictures with the same emotions.
“What does this painting mean to you?” I asked.
“Innocence. A happier time. Positive memories of my brother and I running around,” he said.
“What do you think it meant to your brother?” I asked.