A SHIFT IN THE FRAME
NATALIE
After leaving Will’s house in a rush—hostile, distant, acting like I didn’t care—I told myself it was for the best. I could push him away, and he’d eventually move on. Maybe fall for someone else. Maybe build a life with her in the very home I was designing.
The thought made me nauseous.
But I could fake it. Keep my head down. Finish the job. Pretend the guilt wasn’t gnawing at me every time I opened my laptop or walked through his front door.
The good thing? Design was always a reliable distraction. It gave me something to focus on, something outside myself. I could lose hours pulling together swatches, comparing tones of paint, mixing textures, imagining how a space might feel once it truly reflected the people living in it.
I moved from rugs to wallpaper. Art to accent chairs. Down to the tiny little objects people didn’t think they needed until suddenly, they couldn’t imagine the room without them.
There was something special about helping someone feel like their home was theirs. That when they walked in the door, they could take a deep breath and feel grounded. Home should hold your heart—no matter what your family looks like.
Will’s kids had already been through enough. I wanted their rooms to feel like little pockets of peace. Ivy’s space was especially fun—soft pinks, cozy corners, and a wall she could actually draw on.
Madison was trickier. She was older, opinionated, and probably had strong ideas about what she didn’t want. I treaded lightly, careful not to impose. Just offering ideas when she seemed open to it, and backing off when she didn’t.
Just as I was adjusting a swatch of pale linen next to a brass sconce for the hallway, a soft knock came at the side door.
I looked up, pulled from the quiet buzz of focus I hadn’t felt in ages. The knock came again.
I walked over to the side door off the kitchen and found Camille standing there—head to toe in black ALO, her oversized round sunglasses sliding down her tiny nose. She was holding a brown paper bag and smiling.
“To what do I owe this pleasant surprise?” I asked.
“I was out and about and picked up some bread from Rye,” she said, handing me the warm bag.
“Come on in.”
“Let’s be bad and have a slice with butter,” she grinned.
“You don’t have to twist my arm.”
She stepped inside and paused. Her eyes swept over the kitchen table, now completely overtaken—textiles, wallpaper samples, paint swatches, printed photos, open notebooks, a coffee cup long since gone cold.
“Well, well. What do we have here? The finest bachelor home makeover?”
“Something like that,” I said, feeling my cheeks warm.
Camille smiled. “I think it’s great. I like seeing you like this. You’ve found a part of you that you love again.”
She reached out, brushing her hand over one of the groupings of textiles I had carefully laid out. “These shades of gray are beautiful.”
I looked down at them—soft ash, slate, warm stone, a barely-there blush woven through the palette. All so curated. All so safe.
For a moment, I wondered if my life was becoming one big shade of gray.
Friday morningI got a text from Jason saying he’d have to reschedule our date. He wouldn’t be back until late Saturday because of a last-minute meeting, and Danny was flying in for it, too. They’d decided to catch up.
He said he’d try to fly out again late Monday so we could at least have breakfast together again, maybe even at Beachcombers, a place we really liked. I didn’t even respond. I’d been trying so hard all week to be the perfect wife, but what did it matter? I was always second to his job.
I felt spiteful. So I decided to dress nice for Will this time, even though I was going to his home just to set up some of the décor and furnishings. I could keep my distance while still looking good and professional at the same time. I went with a fitted light blue dress and tall white boots, curling my hair into loose waves.
I was genuinely excited about the things I’d found for the kids’ rooms, Madison’s room especially.
Again, Will opened the door before I even made it up the steps. “Hey, let me give you a hand.”
