EMMA's POV :
- - - Two Years Later - - -
"Home is where the heart is."
It had been years since I first put up this framed quote on the wall of our first apartment. Standing in our new and empty bedroom, the framed quote was again, the first thing I put up on the wall. Boxes and un-built furniture were scattered everywhere, but I looked around the room and felt completely satisfied.
Because we are home.
Yes, we had moved from our first apartment to a bigger place. We loved our old apartment just fine, and there were many great memories that were made there. But we had to move since the place was getting a little too small after our family had grown over the years.
Next to the framed quote, I picked up a framed wedding photo of Ian and me and our baby girl Florence. I remembered that day like it was yesterday. Ian surprised me with the wedding of my dreams. No, he took the wedding of my dreams and made it ten times better. It was probably one of the best days of my life. Words would not be enough to encapsulate all the feelings I held in that little picture frame.
Smiling to myself, I picked up another picture frame of my now four-year-old Florence and hung it on the wall next to the wedding photo. Feeling satisfied with how everything looked, I picked up another framed picture, and this one was of our baby boy, William, and he was now eighteen months old.
Our baby boy, William Heath Hayes, was born about two years after we got married. I actually won our little wager on who got to name the baby, but I decided to name him William because it was a meaningful name. William was my dad's name and also Ian's middle name and Ian's dad's middle name too. And then I couldn't help myself and added Heath as his middle name, just for kicks.
After I finished putting up the collage of pictures on the wall, I took a step back and admired the view. Aside from our family pictures, I also added photos of my parents, Ian's parents, and all our closest friends. I couldn't stop myself from grinning like a Cheshire cat as I stared at it. This wall was filled with all the important people and milestones that made our story a reality.
Every home tells a story and this is ours.
Speaking of our story, another big thing that happened in the past year was that I became a published book author. I published two books inspired by my journey with Ian. It was so crazy to know that so many people related to our story and found our story inspiring.
Next to the wall was a tall shelf filled with all my favorite books. Picking up my published novels from the box, I slid it snuggly right next to Emily Bronte's Wuthering Heights. Since my attention was focused on tidying up the bookshelf, I almost didn't hear Ian coming into the room.
"The wall's looking great, baby," he said as he leaned on the doorframe.
My husband was wearing a plain white t-shirt and it was covered in paint. He was working on the nursery, but then he stopped to help put our kids to bed.
"Thanks. Are they asleep?" I asked.
"Yup, it's all good," he said as he strode towards me. He linked his arms around my body and his hand rested on the little bump on my stomach. "You feeling okay? Is the baby giving you trouble?"
Shaking my head, I told him, "No, I'm feeling great actually,"
"That's good," he said as he kissed me on the cheek. "So, I'm gonna paint the nursery while the kids are asleep. You wanna come help me?"
"Sure,"
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This time, we didn't want the doctor to tell us the gender of the baby, so we were painting the nursery with all sorts of random colors. Oh, right, I forgot to mention I'm pregnant again! We were sixteen weeks along in our third pregnancy.
So yay, sweet sixteen.
Ian had this idea to paint one side of the wall in rainbow polka dots and I thought it'd look cute. He was busily working with the purple paint and I was doing yellow. I stole a glance over at him and saw how serious he looked as he painted the little circle.
Dang, he looks so sexy when he's serious about something.
I couldn't help myself. A playful smile was splashed across my face as I dipped my little paintbrush in paint and slid the paintbrush along his arm. He gaped at me once he saw the streak of yellow paint running down his tattooed arm.
Shaking his head at me, he smirked, "Still like to play dirty, I see,"
With a menacing look on his face, Ian began to stalk toward me and I found myself walking back. He stirred his paintbrush in his can of paint and held a threatening look, as if to say revenge is sweet.
"Truce, truce!" I said quickly with my paintbrush up in the air, making a surrendering gesture.
Ignoring my pleas, Ian lunged himself at me in one swift move and suddenly his arms were wrapped around my body. I squirmed and squirmed, but to no avail. His grip was firm and strong.
"Ha - ha - ha!" I couldn't stop the laughter when I felt his fingers tickling my waist. "Ian, stop!"
I was moving around so much, my bum was pressed up against his lower stomach. Since he wasn't gonna let me go so easily, I decided to play a trick on him. Smiling a naughty smile, I grinded and rolled my hips on the front of his jeans.
"Damn," he hissed and chuckled. "Never a boring day with you, huh?"
I wanted to keep teasing him, but he put a firm hand right on my pelvis area, stopping all movements. I let out a gasp when I felt his finger running down and gripping my core.
"Ah!" the gasp turned into a low moan.
"If you wanna paint something, this is how you do it," he murmured to my ear and let the tip of his paintbrush slowly glide from my neck down to my stomach and down all the way to the front of my shorts.
I swallowed hard.
"Still a great teacher, I see," I said teasingly.
He was smirking a wild grin as he tilted my face to the side. Leaning down, he claimed my lips with his and coaxed me with his soft and tender lips. When I felt his tongue grazing on my lower lip, I completely lost all inhibitions. I turned my body fully so I was facing him and I linked my arms around his neck, deepening the kiss. Our hands and clothes were dirty with paint everywhere, but it didn't stop us from roaming our hands on each other's bodies.
Even after all these years, kissing him still feels like art. It's always new. It's always different. It's always beautiful.
I learned a lot of great things after living with Ian and our little family for the past few years. I learned that love, like art, is a process, and not a finished product. It's a choice we make daily and it keeps reinventing itself. It keeps us humble and it keeps us working.
And I'm so glad to have him as a partner in this work of art.
For the longest time, Ian and I were just making out like we were teenagers hiding inside his apartment all those years ago. Funny how far we've come, and yet some things never change. He still kissed me with the same hunger and passion, and I still giggled like a schoolgirl under his touch.
What Ian and I both failed to consider was the fact that our two kids were sleeping in the next room. We must be making a lot of noises, because the next thing we knew, the door to the nursery burst open and Florence and William raced right in.
"Mommy! Daddy!" Florence squealed. Her eyes lit up at the amount of paint and color all over our bodies. "I wanna paint too!"
"Mamma! Dadda!" William followed right behind his sister.
"Wait, baby-"
Before Ian and I could stop them, they picked up the other brushes and started painting themselves and each other. They were laughing their hearts out. And then they proceeded to paint the walls in this random and crazy pattern.
I turned to Ian and gave him a 'what are we gonna do about them' look. He just smiled and shrugged at me, as if to say, 'let them be, the kids are having too much fun'.
"Never a boring day with these two either," he said as he linked his arm on my shoulder.
"I wouldn't have it any other way," I said as I leaned my head into his neck.
Because this is us. It's our home. It's our life. It's our story.
By the end of the night, there was paint everywhere. Our babies were running around the room covered in paint and they covered every inch of the walls and floor with more paint. Ian and I had given up trying to stop them. We sat in the middle of the room as our kids raced and roll around, giggling and laughing as they went.
What a colorful life we have.
And though we didn't end up with the nursery we had in mind, this one turned out ten times better. This was something else I learned after living with my husband and kids, sometimes the best things in life are the ones you never even see coming. And sometimes, to make art, you have to deal with the mess.
And the same goes for love. If you want love, you have to deal with the mess.
Ian's favorite painter, Van Gogh, once said, there is nothing truly more artistic than to love people. Looking at my husband and kids as they were covered in paint, I couldn't agree more with that statement. Loving people was never an easy task, but with a little paint and courage, you could see an artwork starting to form.
So just do it.
Love. Start now. Start where you are. Start with fear, start with pain, or start with your hands shaking and voice trembling. Just start with what you have. Because our life was like a blank canvas. We could make all sorts of beautiful things with it. We could make mistakes, make love, make art, and make life. But whatever you decide to do, just make sure you paint yourself a lot of colorful days.
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- - - - - The End - - - - -