Chapter 8 The Art of Falling

Ethan Blackwood was not a man who took his time. In business, he was decisive, his instincts sharp, and his confidence unshakable. But with Clara Hayes, he found himself wanting to savor every moment, like lingering over the final brushstroke of a masterpiece.

Their kiss beneath the stars haunted him for days. It also fueled an idea. Ethan wanted Clara to understand that she wasn't just a part of his life; she was his life. And this time, he was going for it.

Clara stood in front of her easel, her fingers smudged with paint, her latest piece coming to life in bold, sweeping strokes. She had no idea what Ethan had planned, but the cryptic text he sent her earlier had her curious.

Ethan: "Dress casually and bring your sketchpad. Tonight's all about you."

She smiled to herself, shaking her head at the mystery. Ethan had a knack for keeping her on her toes, and while she loved that about him, she was also a little wary. His version of "casual" sometimes involved private yachts or exclusive events that felt anything but relaxed.

By the time she reached the address he sent, the sun was dipping low in the sky, painting the city in soft shades of gold and pink. She found herself at a sprawling park, a hidden gem just outside the bustling heart of the city. The trees were alive with the sound of rustling leaves, and a path wound through them, dappled with the light of lanterns strung along the way.

Ethan was waiting at the entrance for her, resting casually against a wooden post. He looked better than she ever remembered him relaxed, almost casual, wearing dark jeans and a simple white shirt.

And that boyish grin that erupted across his face when he spotted her made her heart skip.

"You clean up nice," she teased as she approached, the glint of playfulness shining in her eyes.

He chuckled, holding out his hand. "And you're stunning, as always."

Clara's hand went to his, a well of questions building inside. "So are you going to tell me what this is all about, or am I left guessing?"

Ethan's grin spread wider across his face. "Patience, Ms. Hayes. All will be revealed."

As they made their way along the path, Ethan pointed out little surprises he'd arranged along the way. There was a cozy wooden bench with a small bouquet of wildflowers resting on it a nod to the ones she always sketched at the café.

Farther along, an old oak tree was strung with tiny lights that twinkled like fireflies, casting a soft glow over a wooden table set for two.

Clara's eyes widened. "Ethan, what is all this?"

He rubbed the back of his neck, a rare hint of nervousness crossing his features. "I wanted to do something different. Something that feels... us. No flashy parties or crowded restaurants. Just this."

Clara's heart swelled as she took in the scene. "It's perfect."

They sat at the table, sharing a meal of simple but delicious dishes Ethan had personally chosen. Clara laughed as he recounted a disastrous attempt to cook in college that ended with him accidentally setting off the fire sprinklers.

As the night deepened, Ethan leaned forward, his expression softening. "Clara, I've been thinking a lot about us lately. About how much you've changed my life."

She cocked her head, tracing the rim of her glass with her fingers. "Oh yeah? In a good way, I hope."

"In the best way," he said, his voice low and steady. "You've shown me there's more to life than deals and deadlines. You've reminded me what it's like to feel. alive."

Her cheeks grew warm, but she didn't look away. "You've done the same for me, Ethan. Made me believe in myself in ways that I never thought I could."

They sat there in silence for a moment, the unspoken between them filling the air. Finally, Ethan stood and raised his hand. "Come with me. There's one other thing I want to show you."

Clara hesitated, curiosity piqued, before slipping her hand into his. He led her down a narrow trail that opened into a clearing overlooking the city skyline.

The view was breathtaking thousands of lights twinkling like stars beneath them, the city stretching out endlessly.

In the center of the clearing was a small, portable easel with a blank canvas set up. Next to it was a table holding paints, brushes, and her favorite charcoal pencils.

Clara gasped. "Ethan, did you...?"

He smiled, moving closer to her. "I understand just how much your art means to you. And I wanted to give you a space where you could just be you, to create.

No pressure, no expectations; just you and your talent."

Her eyes welled up with tears as she turned to him. "This is incredible; I don't even know what to say."

"Then don't say anything," he said, his voice soft. "Just paint. Or sketch. Or do whatever makes you happy. That's all I want."

Clara took a deep breath and picked up a brush, dipping it into a vibrant shade of blue. As she worked, Ethan sat nearby, watching her with a look of pure admiration.

"You know," he said after a while, "you're kind of amazing."

Clara looked over her shoulder, a smirk tugging at her lips. "Flattery will get you everywhere, Blackwood."

He laughed, standing and walking over to her. "I'm serious. Watching you like this-it's like seeing a part of you that no one else gets to see. It's beautiful."

Clara set the brush down, her heart racing as Ethan moved closer. He reached up, brushing a strand of hair from her face, his touch sending a shiver down her spine.

"I don't think I've ever loved anyone the way I love you," he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

Her breath caught, her eyes locking with his. "Ethan."

He cradled her face in his palms, his lips ensnaring hers in a kiss that was both tender and passionate.

The world around them melted away; only the now seemed pertinent where they stood now, touching each other.

When they finally broke apart, Clara rested her forehead against his, a soft laugh escaping her. "You really know how to sweep a girl off her feet, don't you?"

Ethan grinned. "I had a pretty great muse."

They spent the rest of the night in that clearing, painting and talking and stealing kisses under the stars. It was one of those nights Clara would never forget and remind her how much love can do.