Except… it had been months. And he still got the feeling.
Then there was the construction outside his new apartment. That was the kind of thing that could throw anyone out of whack. Starting the day to the dulcet tones of jackhammers might make anyone feel a bit scattered, wouldn’t it?
But then the construction had ended. And he still got the feeling.
He was starting to worry that the thing he was missing was the one thing he couldn’t get back.
With a sigh, Tyler heaved himself up into his car. Just as he was about to start the ignition, his phone buzzed in his pocket. He pulled it out, only to be mocked by the background image that he really, really needed to change.
Him, Cadence, and Izzy, about four years old. They’d gone out for professional photos on the beach. It had been for their Christmas card, if he recalled correctly. This shot had been one of the outtakes. Cadence was making a silly face that had sent Izzy into uncontrollable giggles. And he was looking down at them, his girls, like they were his whole world.
Every time he looked at that photo, it felt like a punch in the gut. Every time he thought about changing it, it felt like the second swing, another punch from another fist.
So, he did what he always did and swiped off the main screen. He’d deal with it later.
When he opened his messages app, he saw the incoming text had been from Cadence.
And, right on cue, there it was, that horrible spark of hope that this time, Cadence would reach out the way she used to. That this time, she’d share a random thought, some detail about her day. That she’d make a joke. That she wouldtalkto him.
But as usual, it was no more than mechanics.
CADENCE: Pickup tomorrow at 9? Can’t remember.
And, really, could he blame her? Because here was his opportunity to make a joke about that time, their first year dating, where she’d had a flight that left the airport at seven in the evening but had mistakenly shown up at seven in the morning. His opportunity to connect, to tell her that he’d felt so scattered lately, like he couldn’t remember anything.
His chance to say,I’m sorry how it all turned out. I miss talking to you.
He did none of that.
TYLER: Yeah.
He tossed his phone on the passenger seat, hoping he would be interrupted by a response.
He wasn’t.
The feeling of waiting, of knowing that he was waiting for something that wasn’t going to happen… it got heavier and heavier as he drove. It was a short trip, but by the time he pulled into his designated parking space at his apartment building, the idea of climbing up to the third floor of the little building felt close to impossible.
He wanted to go home. His real home. With Cadence, with Isabelle.
He took a deep breath and ground a knuckle into his forehead.
It didn’t matter what he wanted. This was the way things were now.
He had no choice but to get used to it.
CHAPTER TWO
“This,” Cadence said to the empty gallery, “is not right.”
The paintings didn’t talk back, although she supposed it would be worse if they did.
She backtracked through the front doors, then entered, trying to put on fresh eyes, the way a customer would when they first came in.
Nope. Not rightat all.
It was all going to have to go.
She had about forty canvasses down, propped here and there around the perimeter of the room, when her friend Diana Madsen breezed through the front door and then froze.
