“What the hell, Ricky,” I said, dumbstruck. By cross-hatching the primary colors together, Ricky had managed to bring a new, shimmering dimension to the garden, merging and blurring the flowers and leaves into a mere suggestion of themselves. And the image of me—it emanated peace and contentment and none of the turmoil I was feeling in reality. He’d made me so beautiful, and so effortlessly. My throat tightened, and I felt my eyes well with tears again.
