It was another mark of the chasm of time and history between them that he didn’t gloat teasingly about her telling him he was right. Instead, he tilted his head, giving her a contemplative look.
“What made you try it?” he asked. She couldn’t help but wonder if there was something lurking beneath the surface of the question.
She forced herself to stay sunny. “Oh, you know. Just looking for a change.”
Tyler flinched, so tiny it was imperceptible to anyone who didn’t know him as well as Cadence did. She felt that flinch in her heart. It was precisely how she felt whenever she thought about a future without the family she had imagined for so long.
Quickly, both to change the subject and because she realized that she’d been a bit rude, she asked, “And how are you? How’s the apartment? Izzy only tells me about her room, of course.”
Cadence had stayed in the house where they’d all lived together, which was a blessing and a curse. On one hand, moving was a nightmare, and she was pleased to provide that stability for Isabelle. On the other, memories lurked around every corner.
Tyler paused, like he wasn’t sure how to answer. For a moment that felt like an eternity, his gaze searched hers, looking for… something. She didn’t know exactly what. Then he gave a lopsided smile, the one she’d seen so very many times.
“Oh, you know, that’s probably for the best,” he said. “Izzy’s room is basically the only thing that’s done. You know that old saying about how the barber has the worst haircut in town? Well, I know I’m only an electrician, but the concept applies.”
“After a long day of improving other people’s houses, you come home not exactly in a rush to improve your own?” she asked, not without sympathy. It had taken her ages to decide on décor for their—nowher—house for the same reason. She’d worked at the gallery all day, and then had felt that planning what to put on her own walls was an absolutely impossible task.
“Yeah, exactly,” he said. “It’s very… well, I’d say ‘bachelor chic’ but there’s nothing chic about it, I’m afraid. More like ‘somebody really lives here?’”
His expression was sad, although he was trying to hide it, and Cadence found herself suddenly filled with the intense desire to wrap him in her arms, to pull him close to her and tell him that everything would be okay. To tell him to come home, where the walls were a testimony to their family together, not a bleak indictment of how everything had fallen apart.
She couldn’t, of course, no matter how much she wanted to. That wouldn’t fix their problems, and it would only confuse poor Isabelle.
But goodness, how she missed the way the two of them used to be able to lean on one another.
And maybe that was the whole issue, she mused sadly. They’d stopped leaning on one another for too long, had retreated into themselves. And their marriage had paid the price.
She couldn’t comfort him as she wanted, so she did the only thing she could.
“Well, you know the gallery is always there,” she said, the brightness too bright, the cheer too cheery. But she either had to act happy or let her grief over her lost love overtake her. “If you’re looking for something specific, let me know, and I’ll keep an eye out. I just found this great painting for Diana, so I’m sure I can find something that will brighten up your space.”
Tyler smiled, but he looked as heartbroken as Cadence felt.
“Sure,” he said. “That sounds great.”
The easy moment between them was gone, replaced by an awkwardness so thick you could cut it with a knife. It was, for all its unpleasantness, a good reminder, she told herself. This feeling was why they couldn’t be together. There was too much unsaid.
“Okay,” she said. “Well, I’m going to go grab something to eat. I’m starving after that exercise in torture.”
“Oh.” Tyler blinked like he was surprised. She wished she could still read him. “Oh, yeah, of course.”
“I’ll see you around?”
“Yeah, of course. Bye, Cadence.”
It was horrible,horriblethe way things were between them. As she continued past, walking down the street, Cadence’s muscles were wound twice as tight as they were before that wretched yoga class. Why was it, no matter how she interacted with Tyler these days, her body responded by screamingwrong, wrong, wrong!
Despite what she’d told him, she no longer had any appetite for a pastry or otherwise. But the nervous energy that coursed through her wouldn’t let her feet stop, nor did she feel ready to turn toward home, where a whole different set of memory minefields awaited her.
Somethinghad to change.
Just as that thought crossed Cadence’s mind, she passed the upscale hair salon that she’d never ventured inside, although it had been here in the downtown area for years. Cadence had always gone for the same haircut, with a few variations. A couple of layers here, a few inches there. Her long, strawberry blonde hair had been with her all her life, and the braid she wore was practically a uniform at this point.
But in the window was a woman with a bouncing head of spiraling curls. She was laughing, like her energy was a reflection of her hairdo. Beneath the picture, the wordsPerm services available—inquire withinwere written in a bold, black font.
Bold. Happy. Energetic. Those were things Cadence wanted to feel.
It was crazy to get a perm on a whim, right? But… she wanted change. That would be a really big change. Maybe a little bit of crazy was exactly what she needed to feel so she could pull herself out of the rut that her separation had dumped her in.
