Page 94 of The Image of You

“There’s that chance. But if it happens, I’ll let you know.”

“I bought your photos before you lived here, you know. We can do that again.”

“If I begin to work again, you’ll be the first to know.”

“When do you want the press release out?”

I wanted to leave fast. To escape and leave the memories behind. “Larry and I will finish the piece today. I need a few days to get my affairs in order.”

“So, Friday?”

“Yes. Release it once I’m gone.”

He stood, extending his hand. “I hope to see you back in that chair again, Adam.” He drew in a deep breath. “And without that haunted look on your face.”

I shook his hand without replying. I wasn’t sure that look would ever leave.

Friday night, I looked around the loft, gazing at the space impassively. My bag was by the door, the case with my new equipment beside it.

I had arranged for the loft to be checked on and cleaned. John would handle my business affairs, and I would contact him when I could.

On the counter was my new phone. The other one still worked, despite the shattered screen, but with the way I was traveling, I changed plans and numbers. Only a few people had the old number, but I had passed on the new one to them anyway, and to a couple others as well.

The only contact who didn’t have it was Ally.

I picked up the cracked phone, which hadn’t rung in days. Now, unless it was a wrong number, the only person who would ever call it was her. I ran my finger over the broken screen and tapped the keys. I hesitated, then cleared my throat and hit voice mail.

“You’ve reached Adam Kincaid. I’m no longer at this number. If it is urgent, contact John Reynolds.” I gave his phone number, then I paused, my voice dropping. “If this is you, Ally, come home. John can find me if you want that. I love you. I’ll always love you.”

I hit save and turned off the power. Opening the file cabinet, I tucked it in beside her ring.

I picked up my bags and walked out.

PART TWO—

SIX MONTHS LATER

CHAPTER NINETEEN

ADAM

I stared at her hand and then her beautiful face.

The woman I had loved passionately—desperately—and still loved to this day.

My former fiancée…who was looking at me with no recognition.

As if I were a stranger to her.

And then it hit me as I took in the emptiness in her eyes.

I was.

* * *

I paced the floor restlessly, stopping only to slam back another shot of scotch or run my hands through my hair in vexation. I didn’t have any answers. I only had more questions.

What the fuck had happened to Ally?