Lauren smiled, turned up her collar against the wind. Time to get to her day job.
She pulledinto the Muse parking lot and killed the engine.
When she angled the mirror to check her reflection, she looked the same as ever: cheeks flushed from the cold, hair still pinned up with a pencil.
She’d thought she would have looked… different.
The Stockist. Her wreaths. Her name on that plaque.
Her building’s glass façade reflected the pale winter sky, the same way it had a month ago when Tom had been standing there waiting for her.
The day she’d agreed to that “first date”. The second first date with her husband.
That was what she was thinking about now. Not the professional success, not the artistic acclaim.
No.
She was thinking of the man who broke her heart.
Tom’s voice, low and rough:I love you.
His hands, gentle when he’d adjusted her scarf.
The way his arms had wrapped around her. Like he was holding himself together. Like she was the only thing keeping him upright.
Lauren dropped her forehead against the steering wheel.
What the hell was wrong with her?
She wanted to tell him. Wanted to call and blurt out,They’re selling my work, Tom. My work. The Stockist has me on display.
She wanted him to be proud of her.
That scared her.
Because what if he wasn’t. He hadn’t been at Christmas.
The anger flickered up again, sharp and bright.
Because hadn’t this been the whole point? Proving to herself that she didn’t need his approval, or his mother’s, or anyone’s?
And still?—
God, still?—
Lauren blew out a breath and sat back.
It wasn’t fair, the way love and fury kept trading places inside her like warring seasons.
She could still feel the weight of his arms around her—desperate, tight, safe. She could lose herself in that memory.
Her phone buzzed on the passenger seat. A message from Wren:Running late—be there in 10.
Right. Work.
Lauren grabbed her tote, shoved the phone back into her pocket, and stepped out into the wind. The air was sharp and bright, the kind that cleared your head.
She squared her shoulders and looked up at the building, its glass panes catching the sun.
