I ran a hand all the way to the edge of the bed before opening my eyes to confirm the fact that my bed was empty. I sat up, my heart thudding at a pace that was pure anxiety. She’d left. The apartment was way too quiet for her to be in it.
I ran a hand over my short hair, the bristles so unfamiliar to me.
The sun was barely peeking out, and the room was still half in shadows.
Had she left to be home before Hannah woke? My eyes settled on the dresser and the trunk that Elana had left me. I’d come home from the party yesterday and pulled out the albums, looking for the one from Elana’s father. There’d been a pattern of notes in one of his songs that I’d suddenly needed to hear again. In doing so, I’d left the letter Elana had written out on the dresser.
I stood and walked over to it. The letter was opened. I’d left it that way. Her words of finding someone for me had hit me all over again when I’d thought I might have lost Tristan. Now, I was worried for a different reason.
Tristan hadn’t wanted to be an obligation. Nash had watched over her for so long at Darren’s request, and now, this made it seem like I was doing the same—taking care of her for Elana—when it was absolutely not the truth. I loved her. This was a first for me. A first and, hopefully, a last because I wanted to be there for her until we were both too old and gray to move.
I pulled on jeans and a T-shirt and then went to the other room to find my phone. I’d left it on the coffee table while I’d been recording last night. More notes I was still trying to figure out with Ava.
I debated what to send. “I miss you” seemed overly needy and slightly stalkerish after one night tangled together. “Where are you?” seemed demanding and more alpha male than I’d ever been. But both were true. The demand. The aching need.
I settled for, “Are you okay?”
Then, I stared at the phone, willing for her to text back.
She didn’t.
Fear started to replace every other emotion. If I hadn’t lost her over memories of a dead husband, I certainly wasn’t going to lose her over a note from her dead grandmother.
I threw on a pair of shoes, my beanie, and my sunglasses and left. The man on watch outside the gate was one of Waterton’s men. Someone I didn’t know.
“Hey, the woman who was here…do you know when she left?”
“About twenty minutes ago,” he said.
“Which direction did she head?”
He pointed south toward downtown, andI took off in that direction, hoping she’d just gone to get coffee or donuts or just to get fresh air. Hoping she wouldn’t think I was ridiculously clingy and needy when I did find her.
Main Street was still shuttered and dark. Sunday meant later starts except for Sweet Lips Bakery. Their warm glow hit the sidewalk with a welcoming light and smell. When I peeked in the window, there was no Tristan, and I moved on before anyone saw me.
Three doors down, the windows ofLa Musicawere softly lit. The main lights hadn’t been turned on, but the stain-glassed ones over the counter were. When I tried the door, it opened easily. I wanted to curse at Tristan for leaving it that way where anyone could have walked in, but the curse flew out of my lips when I saw her.
She was in the dress from yesterday, arms around her hips, swaying, tears pouring down her cheeks. My heart couldn’t stand it. In two steps, I was behind her, enveloping her in my embrace, and I was grateful when she didn’t fight me or pull away. She rested her head back against my chest instead, and some of my worries eased.
“Cariño,” I breathed out, tortured because she was tortured.
“I’m sorry, I read the note,” she said.
My throat tightened, making it hard to swallow the lump that rose immediately at her words. The note.
“I need you to know I’m not with you because of that note.” I hoped she heard the sincerity in my words. She turned in my arms, putting her hands on my cheeks.
“I know.”
Relief rushed over me.
“Then, why did you leave after reading it?” I asked, puzzled.
“It was the line she wrote.You both have new memories to make,” she said. I gulped. Elana hadn’t wanted us to hold on to the store, but I couldn’t imagine Grand Orchard without it.
I nodded.
“So, it made me wonder…” She turned back to the rows of albums and CDs. “Could we turn this into your studio?”
