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Because it did not, in fact, manifest in a fiery crash.
It manifested in a beat-up heart.
In the pathetic attempts of a deranged man to piece it back together.
T-MINUS 10 DAYS.
Change.
The word sat on the tip of my tongue like a weight, waiting to drop.
I could count every major life event of mine in one hand. Moving to Seoul. Dad’s death. Throwing the competition. Sending Vera and Andras to jail.
And falling in love with Zachary Sun.
When I thought of each moment, I realized I’d never done a single thing for myself. Not intentionally.
Maybe moving to Seoul could be considered an act of self-love, but I’d made the decision after years of begging from Vera, Reggie, and Tabby.
Which brought me to my new apartment.
A tiny studio in Gaithersburg. Safe and picturesque, with flowerpots overflowing with peonies, dahlias, and daisies. They spilled out onto the roof of the Italian bakery underneath.
The red-bricked building brought me a piece of calm in the chaos of my life. It was cozy. Nostalgic. And my first real gift to myself.
I missed Zach.
Every damn day.
Sometimes, I even hopped on YouTube to watch his old interviews, clinging to the huskiness of his voice. The way his square jaw set when he received a tough question. And the lopsided, contemptuous grin he offered when people expected actual smiles.
And yet, I felt happy in my new home.
In the same way I’d fallen in love with a man, I fell in love with the life I realized I could build for myself.
The only thing missing now is him, the devil on my shoulder reminded me.
“Well, girlie.” Dallas patted a cardboard box on the coffee table. A satisfied grin lit up her face. “This one’s the last of it.”
Oliver plopped down on the couch, frowning. “You act as if you carried anything.”
“Idid.” She stroked her stomach. “My child.”
I’d moved most of my stuff into the studio a week ago, in between practices with Anna, while Dallas and the boys helped me with the rest today.
I’d refused her hand-me-downs, though I found them expensive and beautiful. I just wanted to make this place my own. An antique dining table for two. A secondhand curtain made in Paris. My first new mattress. Ever.
Naturally, the place lookedlike IKEA and Goodwill vomited on it.
I freaking loved it.
Electric excitement zipped up and down my spine. Now I understood why people wanted to have things completely of their own.
It was exhilarating.
From outside the front door, footsteps pounded up the narrow staircase. “You forgot one more thing.”
Romeo.
