Page 120 of All The Ways to Miss You

I lift the photo to my eyes. Melancholy spreads through me when I stare at the happy couple. In the photo, we’re snuggled under the hood of a blanket like a burrito. My arms are linked around his shoulders, tugging him close. I’m kissing his cheek but looking at the camera mischievously. He’s leaning into me with a grin plastered on his face, one arm reaching forward, holding the camera for the selfie.

When I consider what may have happened before this image or right after, tingles prick at my core. They wash over my heart and up my neck. I know for sure, because the photo reflects how I felt after the night Evan and I spent together. My face warms. The love couldn’t be denied, even if I thought it fake at the time.

I flip over the photo and search for a date. Instead, I’m surprised to find writing that’s newer, not faded. I use the flashlight on my cell to read it. When I do, I hear Evan’s deep voice in my mind.

Cait,

I can’t even begin to explain all the ways I’ve missed you.

—E

I memorize those words, searing them into my soul. A gust of wind whips past, almost tearing the photo from my hands, but I tuck it back into my coat pocket for safekeeping.

Considering his note, I stare at the sky and make a wish, the same wish I’ve had for years—to remember.

I pick out a few constellations, but the more I stare, the lights sear brighter into the dark indigo sky. I blink several times, but each sparkling star continues to throb and pulse until their brightness grows larger.

I lift my hand to shield my eyes, but what’s happening isn’t outside; it’s inside my mind. Even with my eyes closed, the illumination intensifies until each spot blinds me with vibrant, blazing light. The sky melts like a curtain that’s been hiding secrets. I squint to focus. My vision blurs and adjusts, and that’s when I see Evan.

He’s laughing. Smiling. We’re wrapped in a blanket on my bed. He lifts the cell above our heads to take a selfie, but drops it. It crashes on his cheek. He yowls and winces from the pain. I can’t help but snicker and reach over to rub his reddening skin. The moment is light. He tries for a photo again. He lifts the cell and adjusts the shot on the camera as I kiss the bruised spot. There’s a snap and a bright flash, capturing the moment after our first time.

One gleaming thought supersedes every other. I loved this man dearly, completely, and endlessly.

When the meaning of these words seep into me, I recall all the reasons why. Images of our life unfold in the quick flashes I’ve become accustomed to. Of the memories I see, I determine our life was beyond beautiful; our friends, caring and loyal; his family, loving and welcoming; and Evan was thoughtful, confident, funny, and sexy.

Another realization unfolds clearly in my mind.

I ache to have it all again.

fifty-nine

“You were right. I’m in a much better place for being here. Thanks for hiring me.” I lean against the door frame of Linden’s office.

He glances up from his computer with a smug expression and sits back in his chair. “Damn right.”

I step inside and hold up a stack of papers before tossing them on his desk.

“What’s this?” He glances down, taking a few seconds to understand. “You closed the Rosemary deal?” He flips through to the last page to confirm the signatures. His attention pops back to me with wide eyes.

“And . . .” I slap another stack of papers on top.

“Lakeman too?” He pounds the desk with the palm of his hand and stares in disbelief.

Now I’m the one who appears smug. My hips swing triumphantly back and forth.

“Looks like you owe me a new office.” I pace in a circle, surveying his office, and point around the room. “I’m thinking lavender walls. I’ll hang my favorite art print over there. And I’ll sit the Eames chair in that corner so I can enjoy my river view.”

“I guess a deal’s a deal.” He huffs and leans back casually, spreading his jacket open. His navy necktie falls askew.

I try not to gloat, but I can’t help but yelp at his agreement with clapping hands. I hurry for the door, wanting to leave before he can rescind his offer.

“Hold on,” he says.

I pause in mid-stride and warily turn to him.

“You’ll be attending the event tonight.” He sits up straight, rolling a pen between his fingers. This isn’t a question. It’s a demand. Despite this small victory, he’s still in charge.

I nod in agreement, but mostly because Aggie’s been working hard with the charity event, and I wouldn’t miss the opportunity to support her.