“Ilovedit! And . . . I have to say, Luke was much more handsome than I thought he’d be. Not only that, but the two of you have some great chemistry.”
Her throat went dry. “Do we?”
“Yes, absolutely. You two have chemistry you could bottle and sell.”
Amayah’s eyebrows shot up at the statement.
Before she could respond, Miranda continued.“How is the interview going?”
“Slowly. We keep getting interrupted.”
“It was good to see you looking so happy.”
She paused. “I don’t usually look happy?”
“You do . . . you really do. That’s not what I meant. This was just a different kind of happiness . . . the kind that’s not focused on other people. When was the last time you did something for yourself? Certainly not when you bought that house.”
Miranda hadn’t approved of this purchase any more than her mom had. “Making other people happy does make me happy.”
“I know. And I love that about you. But . . . you deserve some good stuff in your life also. Anyway, I’m not going to argue with you. I just wanted to touch base and say good job.”
They talked a few more minutes before ending the call.
As Amayah sat on her couch, her mind drifted—uninvited, unwelcome—back to a different doorway. A different man.
Isaac Harding had walked into her life at the height of her career in marketing. He’d been gentle, funny, and charming. They’d talked about forever in soft tones and long drives, dreaming up futures made of tiny houses and cinnamon-scented holidays.
But none of it had been real.
While Amayah had been sketching out their future, Isaac had been slipping through wrong doorways—hidden ones. Doors lined with addictions she didn’t see until they’d coiled around him too tightly for him to escape.
By the time she knew the truth, he was drowning in choices he couldn’t undo. The way he’d treated her had changed.
He’d become the worst version of himself, someone she hardly recognized. Even worse was the denial he’d been in about it all.
Their relationship had suffered, but Amayah had been determined to help him. She’d excused his bad behaviors. Told herself this was a phase. Ignored the things he said when he wasn’t himself.
Then one night, he’d gotten behind the wheel after drinking.
He didn’t hurt anyone else.
But he hadn’t survived the crash.
A door she’d believed would lead to a shared future had turned into one she could never walk through again.
Making it worse was the news article that had been written afterward . . .
She pressed her hand to her chest, steadying the quiet ache that rose whenever she thought of him—not just grief but humiliation. Confusion. The sting of realizing she’d loved a version of Isaac that didn’t truly exist.
She refused to misread another person that way.
She refused to be fooled by charm again.
But most of all, she refused to give in to the feeling that she’d betrayed herself by trusting someone she shouldn’t have.
Her gaze drifted down the small hallway to the extra bedroom she’d set up like an office.
That was where she kept all the information on her secret project. More details needed to be finalized before she told anyone what she was doing. Her plan was risky, but something she’d always dreamed about. The risk would be worth the reward. That was what she told herself.
