My knees go a little soft.
He was just on the phone with me a few nights ago. He didn’t say he was coming. He didn’t even hint at it. And now he’s here asking me to meet him.
Excitement fizzles, accompanied by a thin line of dread. I don’t know what my heart is going to do when I see him again in person.
I drag the package closer and start tearing at the wrapper. As the brown paper falls away, my hand flies to my mouth.
It’s the wolf sketch. Except this time it’s not the crinkled pencil version I keep in my desk drawer and it features three wolves—a small pack. This one has been recreated with clean lines, soft watercolor wash behind it, and the moon fuller and brighter, like it’s actually glowing. And it’s been framed. At the bottom, in neat lettering:
A wolf always finds the moon again.
B. & M.
A tear slips out before I can stop it. I swipe at my cheek and laugh at myself.
Of course he’d send the one thing that would hit straight to the softest spot.
I stare at the note again.Dinner tomorrow?
I already know the answer.
I press the card to my chest and whisper, “You’re a menace, Worth Miller.”
Worth
I wake up with an annoying little reminder in my brain: today would’ve been mine and Mya’s first anniversary.
But I don’t dwell on it.
We detonated that date so no point sitting in a hotel bed getting sentimental over a marriage that got ripped apart in public. Besides, I’ve got Bri today, and my daughter doesn’t do brooding.
“Dad,” she calls from the other room, “are we going to the office or are we just pretending to work and going around Paris instead?”
“Both,” I call back. “Get ready.”
We head to the Paris office late in the morning. Before we leave, I text Dre.
Mya in the office today?
She replies in under a minute.
Dre:
No. She will be on site all day.
Good. Not because I don’t want to see her. I don’t want to crowd her or ‘invade her territory’ when she asked for space.
We take the company car over. Brianna is glued to her phone the whole ride, thumbs flying, making those half-smiles she makes when she’s trying to be cool.
At the office, I set up in one of the glass conference rooms with a view over the courtyard. I pull up financials; Bri pulls out her sketchbook and a pack of markers. Every few minutes, her phone buzzes.
Finally I look over. “Who are you talking to?”
She goes pink immediately. “My friend.”
I raise a brow. “Which friend?”
“Just… a friend.”