The memory of the Christmas boxes flickered through his mind—the ache of sorting through what she’d thrown away. And the flash of red satin.
Red lingerie. New for Christmas. Unworn.
The memory of that slip of clothing burned in him—longing tangled with shame.
What had he ever done that was as open as that? As vulnerable?
He let himself remember her on their honeymoon, toes in the sand, sunlight in her hair. Happy.
Now, outside the window, winter pressed against the glass, hard and grey.
CHAPTER 53
Lauren
Lauren steppedout of The Stockist, the February chill sharp against her cheeks, emails and timelines still dancing in her head. Her tote bag was heavy with fabric swatches Margot had insisted she take and Lauren felt buoyant.
She paused just outside the gallery’s window, looking through the glass. Her wreaths hung in a cluster, each tagged with her name. Barrett.
It still startled her sometimes.
She adjusted her tote strap—and froze.
Judith Barrett was marching up the sidewalk like a woman who owned the block.
Of course.
Her hair was perfect. Her coat was cream. Her heels did that precise, purposeful click.
A familiar tension pricked between her shoulder blades, ingrained memory of every dinner table where she’d tried and failed to impress this woman. Lauren braced.
“Lauren?” Judith’s brows rose, her tone sliding into that polite disdain she’d perfected. “What are you doing here?”
Lauren swallowed her first answer—being successful—and kept her voice even.
“I had a meeting.”
Judith’s eyes flicked to The Stockist sign above the door. “Here? Really?” The disbelief was palpable.
Lauren felt the old sting—a phantom reflex—but it didn’t reach her deeply anymore. For so long, Lauren had chased this woman’s approval. Chased and failed and twisted herself into knots. And now? Lauren realized that it didn’t matter.
Lauren opened her mouth to answer—but before she could, the gallery door swung open behind her.
“Lauren!” Margot called, striding out with the effortless confidence of someone who curated half the city’s taste. “I’m so glad I caught you.”
Judith turned, her expression rearranging itself into something bright and expectant—oh good, someone important has arrived.
Margot reached Lauren, touching her arm warmly. “I meant to give you these before you left.” She handed over a sleek envelope. “The client adored your concepts. Truly adored. We’re thrilled.”
Lauren felt heat rise in her cheeks—not embarrassment, but pride. “Thank you,” she said.
Judith stepped forward, smile sharpening. “Margot. How lovely to see you again.”
Margot blinked politely. “Hello.”
“You might remember,” Judith continued, eager, “we’ve met. At Evelyn Kent’s holiday fundraiser. I wore the ruby brooch?—”
Margot’s brows pulled slightly together. “I’m… afraid I don’t recall.”
