It’s never too late to change, Corbin. And it’s never too late to fight.
I don’t hesitate. Instead of texting her back, I call.
She answers on the second ring.
“Hey,” she says, and just like that, my chest tightens, the sound of her voice pulling something sharp and deep inside me.
“I’m still up,” I tell her.
A soft laugh fills the line. “I’m painting.”
The smile comes before I can stop it. “What are you painting?”
“Trees.”
“What kind of trees?”
“Pine trees.”
“Are they symbolic for something?” I ask, curious if she’s trying to say something without saying it.
She clicks her tongue. “No, I just thought they’d be easy to paint as I slowly ease back into it, you know?”
I can see her now—sitting at the table, auburn hair messily pinned up, paintbrush in hand, completely lost in her own world. The image alone might be my undoing.
“Can I see it when you’re done?”
Jules sighs. “If I ever finish it.”
I frown. “Why wouldn’t you finish it?”
There’s a beat of silence before she finally says, “Why did you talk to Gio Gatti two years ago about showcasing my art?”
My breath catches.
Shit.
“How do you know about that?” I ask, though I already have a pretty good guess.
“He told me,” she says simply. “I just don’t understand, Corbin. Why did you do that?”
I exhale, running a hand through my hair. “I knew you wanted to paint full-time,” I say honestly. “So, I started reaching out to galleries to see if they’d be interested in selling your work.”
There’s a pause. “Galleries,” she repeats slowly. “As in… more than one?”
“Five,” I admit. “And three of them were willing to showcase your art.”
She lets out a long breath. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
I shrug, even though she can’t see me. “We were going through a rough patch, and I didn’t want you to feel pressured.”
Another pause. This one heavier.
“I wish you would have told me,” she says quietly. “I wish…" She trails off, and I don’t know if I want to press or if I just want to let her sit with whatever thought she doesn’t want to finish.
There are so many things I want to say.
I miss you.