Riley offered an abbreviated version of the kiss they’d interrupted. “Have fun.”
“Yeah, don’t worry about us,” Trevor called from the kitchen. “We’ll make ourselves at home.”
“That’s what scares me.” But one step outside made it hard to think of anything other than how much I loved it there. Jaycee sat on the steps and changed her shoes.
An hour later, I collapsed in the same spot. “Man, I forgot how steep those hills are.”
Jaycee stretched out her hamstring. “It’s good for the glutes.”
I fanned my shirt away from my body and the rivulets of sweat rippling down my chest. “Yeah, well, my glutes might argue otherwise.”
“You’ll feel better after a shower. C’mon, I’ll pick out some clothes for you to wear to dinner.”
I stopped on the porch. “Are we going somewhere?”
“No, but we’re on vacation. Every night is an excuse for a makeover.”
“Ah, Jae, you know how I feel about you turning me into a dress-up doll.”
“I prefer the word masterpiece, thank you very much.” She batted her extra-long lashes. “Humor me. It’s not gonna kill you.”
“Fine.”
She clapped her fingertips together and prodded me down the hall to the bathroom for a twenty-minute treatment of steam relaxation.
I pulled my hair loose from its band as I headed for our room. Two steps inside, I stopped. A spaghetti-strap dress, coordinating accessories, and high heels stared at me from the bed. You’ve got to be kidding me. I lifted the dress up. The effects of my shower therapy? Gone. Slid right out of my grasp with the satiny fabric gliding through my hands.
I shook my head. The things we did for friends. She was definitely going to owe me one.
Inside the kitchen doorway, my ankle bent sideways to the floor. Jaycee glanced up from a tray of fresh fruit she was preparing. Regaining my balance, I sashayed on display.
Her whistle nearly drowned out the sound of my heels screeching across the tile. She kissed her fingertips like an Italian chef. “What did I tell ya? Masterpiece.”
I glared at my spiky shoes. “I was thinking more along the lines of a train wreck.”
“Oh, never mind about your shoes. You look stunning.”
More like half-naked, but who could disagree with the What Not to Wear queen? I slumped over the countertop and snagged an oversized strawberry. “Where are the guys?”
“Trevor ran up to the store, and Riley’s out back waiting for you.”
My last bite of fruit lodged halfway down my throat. “What do you mean, waiting for me?”
“Waiting, Em. As in, he’s standing outside. Alone. Wishing you would hurry up and go to him.” She pushed me toward the dining room.
The back door glided smoothly on its tread at first. Halfway open, it jerked to a stop along with my entire body. Jaycee and I weren’t out that long. How did the guys have time to transform the deck into a scene from a movie?
A light summer breeze flickered over wild flowers and candles dressing the patio table. Flames in the granite fire pit danced with the cylindrical paper lanterns draped along the arbor’s edge. In the center of it all, Riley stood, facing the lake.
He turned at the same time I stepped through the doorway. Another warm breeze skimmed across my shoulders in an invitation to join him.
My hands trailed down the lapel of a suit that fit him flawlessly. “You look dashing.”
He curled me close to him, eliminating the last few inches between us. “And you are absolutely breathtaking,” he whispered just before his lips embraced mine.
I breathed in his Nautica cologne and hung on to his lapel until my legs solidified again.
His hands glided down to my waist. “Dance with me.”
Other than water lapping in the background, stillness hushed over the deck. I glanced at Riley’s demo CD lying on the table and scanned for any sign of speakers. “Here? There’s no music.”
His smile said otherwise. “There’s always music.”
I couldn’t deny those eyes, let alone this enchanted dance floor. I tossed my heels to the side, and Riley guided me across the deck. My cheek settled over the melody of his heartbeat—a song I couldn’t lose.
Thoughts of Riley’s record deal swept in with questions on where that’d take him and what it meant for our future. Our future.
My throat turned to sandpaper. I clung on to him even tighter. Right now, Em. Just live in right now.
Riley lowered his lips to my ear. “I love you.”
I nestled my head between his neck and shoulder. Time bowed with a smile as it extended me one more dance outside its reins. And before inertia set things back in motion, I fell in love a little more.
Riley kissed the backs of my fingers. “There’s still one song I haven’t played for you.” He led me to a patio chair and retrieved his guitar from the corner behind the table.
“Am I your audience?” I asked, teasing as we used to.
Riley didn’t look up from the deck. “My audience of one, Emma.”
He rested his guitar over his leg propped up on the chair beside me. Similar to the way everything used to stop when Dad played, the entire lake paused to listen to Riley the moment his fingers caressed the strings. He began the same song he had on the day we first kissed.
“This song means more to me than any I’ve written. I want you to really listen to the lyrics. It’s something I’ve been working on for quite a while. Since the day I first saw you.”
Heat pricked the tops of my cheeks, but I couldn’t unlock my gaze from his.
“It’s called, ‘Unveiled.’”
Just like the art we drew together. He said the title with such emotion, his voice gripped me before he sang the first word.
“Whose eyes are these, searching helplessly for joy?
“Eyes that stir a forgotten desire and unveil a hidden void?
“How do they awaken things, things I thought I’d lost?
“And revive my fragile hope in a love worth the cost?
“Why is it a mystery to me? Why does it have to be?
“I wonder if she sees what I see—this hidden treasure, whose eyes unveil me.
“If she could only see what I see.”
Leaves rustled in the gentle breeze. The cylindrical lanterns rocked beams of light across the grains of the deck and clothed Riley in a spotlight he was made for.
“Whose eyes are these, whose power I can’t fight?
“In a crowded room, I search for only her eyes tonight.
“How do they see inside me, every defense shattered from the start?
“And find their way deeper into every part of my heart?”
I gripped the chair. Memories of watching him play that night at Nuts and Jolts blended into the picture of him in front of me now. Artistry clung to his fingers, every feature one with the music.
“Why are these eyes bound by doubt and insecurity, veiled behind a mask of fear, trapped in lies of forgery?
“How can I make her see her life’s own tapestry, woven with layers of art and beauty?”
The chords rang with every bit of passion teeming in the way he looked at me.
“Why are these eyes unaware of the courage they’ve given me to believe in the person she’s helped me to be?
“How can I make her see how every part of the journey is leading her closer to her dreams of expectancy?
“Why is it a mystery to me? Why does it have to be?
“Why doesn’t she see what I see—this hidden treasure, whose eyes are veiled to me?
“If she could only see what I see.”
The chair pressed into my back, his words into my soul. The emotion wrapping around me brimmed above my bottom lashes.
“Help me find a way. There’s got to be a way.
“To unveil these blinded eyes, to see what I see looking back at me.
“I will be here waiting—until you find the faith to see—until you see what I
see.”
The ending to Riley’s song resonated across the quiet deck.
He set his guitar aside and brushed his fingertips to my cheek. “Without even knowing it, you’ve given me the courage to look past the fears holding me back to risk a dream I’d given up on. You helped me see myself through your eyes. To see life through grace. Taught me what it means to be brave. Through doubts. Even failure.”
He lifted my hand and set it over my heart. “There’s nothing missing. There never has been. This is who you are, Emma.”
My body trembled with the earnestness in his words. Words I desperately wanted to believe. A familiar grip tightened across my chest with the sound of my own voice echoing what I’d spoken to Riley months before. “It’s kind of sad, but the longer you give in to the label people place on you, the easier it is to believe.”
Whose eyes had I been looking through?
As if hearing my friends and family for the first time, the words they’d spoken over me whispered to my heart, stripping away labels until one final voice broke through. “Being an artist has less to do with mastering technique or theory and everything to do with risking the cost of opening your heart to the song you’re meant to share.”
Dad had never doubted I’d discover that song. I’d been the one afraid—afraid of what it would sound like, afraid it wouldn’t be good enough. But sitting here now, with all my vulnerabilities exposed, the song in my heart erupted with an assurance it’d taken my entire journey to learn. Even broken strings have a song worth sharing.
Riley’s hand ran down my hair and onto my cheek. “I’m in love with you, Emma. More than I thought was possible. There never has been and never will be anyone for me but you,” he said, repeating words I’d spoken to him many nights before.
“From the day I first saw you on campus, you’ve opened my eyes to a world filled with hope. You’ve taught me to believe in a love worth waiting for. A love I want to spend the rest of my life sharing with you.”
Bending to one knee, he lifted up a tiny box with an emerald-shaped sapphire ring seated inside. “Emma—I’m a tea kind of girl—Matthews, will you do me the honor of marrying me?”
Underneath the glow of the stars and the light of Dad’s promise, I looked into Riley’s eyes and into a future I no longer needed borrowed faith to believe in. His words were more than an invitation to ever after. More than simply a feeling. Beyond the borders defined by movies or fairy tales. Into something that exceeded what I ever thought, hoped, or dreamed love could be—something Mom and Dad had shared.
And lost.
The sight of Riley’s demo CD on the table reignited a fear during a moment in which it had no right to exist—unbidden and unjustified, yet equally inescapable. My chest rose and fell with an irrepressible sense of urgency. Every sound competed with the drumming of my pulse.
Riley’s eyes met mine again, offering the same assurance that never wavered.
“You’re braver than you think you are.” Brave enough to trust the promise of always?
Breathing in, I grasped for the courage to remain unshaken and spoke the single word that was about to change everything.
“Yes.”
Thanks for reading Eyes Unveiled. You’ve just completed Book One of the Unveiled Series. If you want to be the first to hear when Crystal’s next book is released, sign up for her New Release Email List at: http://crystal-walton.com/new-release-mailing-list/
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ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Crystal received her bachelor of arts from Messiah College in PA, married her exact opposite in upstate NY, and earned her master of arts from Regent University in VA, where she currently resides with her husband, David. Crystal writes contemporary new adult fiction fueled by Starbucks’ venti green teas. Connect with her at http://crystal-walton.com.
acknowledgements
Dave, without your faith in me, this book would still be an unrealized dream. Thank you for your unswerving support, for all those Saturdays you gave me space to write, and for reminding me it was going to be okay in those moments when I doubted it the most.
Jessica Patch, where would Emma and Riley be without your brilliant editorial insights? Thanks for brainstorming with me, pushing me to hone my craft, and encouraging me in the trade. You’re amazing.
Erynn Newman, you’re a joy to work with. Thank you for your sharp eye, patient instruction, editorial feedback, and those Princess Bride comments that kept me smiling.
Alisha, thanks for your patience in working with a newbie author on the cover design, and for bringing visual creativity to the words on the page.
Rachel Olsen, thanks for enduring the earliest versions of my manuscripts. Your tears, comments, and edits have sown into these stories and into a friendship I’m blessed to have.
Katie Goldman—girl, what a ride! Thanks for walking with me through the trenches of so many bottom-of-the-bell-curve days and for all those much-needed Starbucks dates and faith-building prayers.
Nora Culley, there was hardly a day I worked on this series without thinking back to our shenanigans in college. Fairly certain I wouldn’t have survived that season without you. Thanks for teaching me what friendship truly means. It’s been a source of inspiration for this story and for my life.
Beth Skaret, thanks for your feedback on the story, for squealing with me in excitement like we were thirteen again, and for being one of your kid sister’s biggest fans.
Mom and Dad, no words to thank you for calling forth the gifts you saw in me, for cultivating a love for writing, and for cheering me along a seemingly endless journey.
All my earliest blog followers, Facebook fans, and word-of-mouth fire starters, your support and encouragement have kept me going in more ways than you know. I hope this book will be a blessing to you in return.
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