Elle gave her a sympathetic look. “That must be really hard for him. And for you too, probably, knowing how to help him through it.”
“Yeah, both,” Megan said. “He’s going to visit her grave and spend some time with her parents.”
Elle sat next to Megan, and they ate croissants together before serving breakfast to their guests in the dining room. After a year in operation, the routine was comforting and familiar. Afterward, Megan went down the hall to their joint office to get her photography equipment for a scheduled portrait session with a young couple staying at the castle.
She met them out front. “Hi, I’m Megan.”
“Carolyn,” the woman told her. “And this is my husband, Alex.”
“Hi,” Alex said, reaching out to shake Megan’s hand. His gaze met hers briefly before darting away in that all-too-familiar way that made her cheeks heat and her fingers itch to shake her hair down over the scar. Would she ever get used to it?
“Nice to meet you both,” she told them, turning to lead the way down the castle’s front steps. “It’s a beautiful day for photos. Before we get started, did you have any specific shots or locations in mind?”
She might not ever get used to people flinching at her appearance, but she could control her reaction to it. She could resist the urge to hide behind her hair, because this was still her face, dammit, and she wasn’t ashamed of her scars. So, she held her head high as she led Carolyn and Alex through their portrait session. She didn’t let the tears fall until she was locked safely in the bathroom after they’d left.
* * *
Megan watchedthe timer on the oven, adjusting the temperature to make the lasagna cook as slowly as possible. She’d thought Jake would be home by now, thought she’d have a hot meal waiting for him, feed him and hold him and do what she could to make this day easier for him. But the lasagna had simmered so long the edges were starting to burn, so finally she pulled it out and left it to cool on the stovetop.
If he wasn’t home soon, she’d put it in the fridge for tomorrow night. Why hadn’t he at least called to check in? Maybe if he’d let her know what time to expect him, she wouldn’t have an uneaten, overcooked lasagna sitting on the stove. She pressed a palm to her forehead. She was getting herself worked up over nothing. This was an emotional day for him. He was with Alana’s parents. It’s not like he was out with another woman.
But deep down, she wished she were with him. It would have been hard and maybe even awkward at times, but wasn’t this what couples were supposed to do for each other? Be there for each other, even during the difficult times?
As the lasagna cooled in the kitchen, she sat on the couch and tried to read. Oreo and Cookie snuggled beside her while Barnaby sprawled on the floor by her feet. She was halfway through Jake’s fourth book now and completely in love with the series. But tonight, she couldn’t concentrate on Derrick and his crime-solving adventures. Instead, she found her attention migrating to the photo of Jake and Alana on the shelf by the window.
She’d seen it before, of course. It sat next to a photo of Jake with his mother and sister and one of him riding Twister that Megan herself had taken last month. Now, she stood and walked over, picking up the delicate silver frame. Alana beamed at her from behind the glass, so young, so innocent, so beautiful. She and Jake had their arms around each other, looking radiantly happy and in love.
Tears welled in Megan’s eyes at the cruelty of it all, for everything Jake had been through and for Alana herself, thinking she had her whole life ahead of her with the man she loved, not knowing she would lose it all on her wedding day. Swiping at her eyes, Megan set the picture back on the shelf.
She picked up the photo of Jake on Twister, admiring his strong profile, his comfortable and commanding stance astride his horse. She’d taken it late one afternoon, with the sun’s amber rays spilling over the treetops behind him, muting the other colors in the photo. She’d always liked to play with light—the sun in particular—in her photography, and this shot was one of her favorites.
The rest of the photos on the shelf were hers. There was a picture of her, Ruby, and Elle at Disney World a few years ago. Growing up in Orlando, they’d spent a lot of time at theme parks. Next to that was a photo of Megan with her parents in a blue glass frame, and a photo of Megan and her grandmother at Megan’s high school graduation beside that.
There wasn’t a photo of her and Jake. Somehow, she hadn’t noticed that before. Why hadn’t he added one? Why hadn’t she?
Why wasn’t he home yet?
She looked at the smiling, unscarred version of herself in the photos on the shelf, fingers going reflexively to her left cheek. Would she ever look that carefree again? Were she and Jake really building something solid here, or were they just playing house together while they both hid from the demons in their past?
She sat and tried to read for another hour, watching as the clock ticked past nine and kept going. Finally, she put the lasagna in the fridge, took the dogs out, and went to bed, alone.
* * *
By the timehe got home that night, Jake was as emotionally drained as he’d been last year this time. He hadn’t meant to stay out so late, but the day had gotten away from him. After he left the Robertson’s, he’d stopped back by the cemetery on the way home. He’d needed to go alone, to sit there and vent the last of his grief by himself.
In truth, the day had hit him harder than he’d expected it to, and he was so incredibly glad he had Megan to hold him tonight. He’d spent so many unbearable nights alone in bed, aching for the touch, the company, the presence of another person. But when he let himself in through the front door of the farmhouse, he was greeted by silence.
The lights were out, and Megan was nowhere to be seen. He glanced at the clock, realizing it was past ten. That was still early for her to be in bed, but maybe she’d gotten bored by herself. Oreo and Cookie stirred in their crates, looking at Jake.
He should have called. It wasn’t like him to get so caught up in his own business that he forgot to check in with her. But nothing about today had been ordinary. He walked down the hall, trying to soften his footsteps in case she was asleep. Sure enough, she was in bed, her back to the door, dark hair fanning across the pillow behind her.
Barnaby hopped up from his dog bed, walking over to Jake while his tail wagged in full loops. Jake bent to pet him. He undressed quietly and went into the bathroom to wash up before climbing in beside Megan. She rolled to face him, eyes glinting in the moonlight.
“How did it go?” she asked softly.
“It went. I’m just so glad to have you here tonight.”
“Me too,” she whispered.
