The contractors finished the interior yesterday.
Fresh paint.
Repaired molding.
Refinished wood floors that look like honey.
A brand-new kitchen that smells like sawdust and possibility.
New furniture arriving in waves—beds, couches, the works.
Old furniture almost completely redone.
The place looks great.
Like a magazine spread.
Like a house someone should want to come home to.
But it’s not a home.
Not yet.
It’s missing something.
It’s missing someone.
I run my hand along the new banister, imagining a voice drifting from the kitchen, a laugh echoing down the hall, a soft shape curled up on the couch with a book and a blanket.
I know exactly who I see in every role I imagine.
Every corner of this house.
Every future I’m so damn hungry for.
Fuck it.
I wipe my hands on my jeans, grab my keys, and head for the door.
I’m going to the bakery today.
I need to see her.
I need to see Adrianna like I need air in my lungs.
Even if she kicks me out.
Even if she hates me.
Even if I have no idea what the hell I’m doing.
I’m going anyway.
Because the music might not be back yet, but the feeling is.
And it’s screaming her name.
ChapterThirteen
