But…right in the middle of that ugly, patchy, pockmarked wall was a beautifully framed picture of a cocky, comical pigeon. Slightly to the left of it, was a picture of Dylan, holding his newborn baby girl. Just above it, Ty’s favorite picture of his parents, smiling and in love. And—finally—a picture of Tanner, seated on a bar stool, head down, and shoulders hunched, as he plucked away at the strings of his vintage Hopf guitar.
Ty took a thirsty gulp of beer and made a mental note to get crack filler and paint tomorrow. Maybe some green paint, it would make the pictures pop more. And an album for the photos he had removed from the wall.
He tugged his phone from his pocket and brought up his recent pictures album. He had—quite some time ago—emailed the pictures of his and Vicki’s date in South Bank to himself, so that he could have them on his phone. But he hadn’t had the courage to properly look at them since the night he’d taken them.
He was ready to look now.
And truly see.
Chapter Twenty-Five
It was cold.
Okay, more than cold. It was freezing. The temperature had dipped into single digits these last few days, with a low of just three today.
Perfectly awful weather to match a perfectly terrible Monday morning.
The short walk from the Tube station to Bloomin’ Paradise wasn’t pleasant. Not when the cold was accompanied by icy rain. Vicki longingly recalled the warm, luxurious car within which Ty and Chance had chauffeured her to work every day and—not for the first time—acknowledged that it had been a definite perk to have her own personal protector/driver on days like today.
It was hard to think of the car without also conjuring the memory of that penetrating violet stare boring into her eyes in the rearview mirror. Impersonal at first, then curious, then intense and—ultimately—hot as hell. When she thought about those stares, Vicki’s mind inevitably went to that last day in the Cape. How those same eyes had been filled with pleading, desperation, and regret. As always—when her thoughts strayed to those memories—her brain skittered away from them, like a small, frightened creature cowering from the light.
She shook her cold hands and stomped her feet before unlocking the store’s new security gate and door. She stepped inside and quickly punched in the security code to deactivate the alarm. The new security system was definitely extra, but it did give her peace of mind. With the added bonus of making Miles happy.
Linda arrived five minutes after she did, full of complaints about the weather, while she set up the window displays. It was too cold to put flowers outside at the moment.
By the time Jazz and Josh arrived, Vicki already had the coffee brewing and was doing her accounts. Her least favorite part of the job. But the task wasn’t going to complete itself. It also required all of her focus and—happily—kept her thoughts from straying to Ty.
Vicki missed him.
She knew that—as promised—he probably didn’t even think about her. She felt silly for still pining away for him like some mopey teen schoolgirl. He occupied too many of her waking—and sleeping—thoughts.
She wondered if he liked her gift. It had been three days since she’d left it on his doorstep. And she hadn’t heard from him.
Not that she wanted—or expected—to hear from him. That would be counterproductive. She had to move on. But he had been a prominent part of her life for nearly a year and a half. Those last few weeks had been wonderful and unforgettable. Not saying goodbye—thus depriving them of the closure they needed—had been petty and mean. She’d regretted it as soon as she’d boarded the plane.
Hugh’s quiet, non-judgmental support on that long, emotional flight home, had meant the world to her. He had stoically held her hand while she cried, listened while she talked, and offered advice or an opinion only when asked for one.
Ugh, she was doing it again. Her thoughts had strayed to Ty, and that’s where they would remain if she didn’t force herself to shift focus to her accounts. She shook herself impatiently, shoving him to the back of her mind, and cracked on with her work.
Around noon, her phone chimed, breaking her concentration. She stretched the kinks out of her neck and back, before checking to see who had messaged her.
She froze when she saw Ty’s name on her screen. It took a few long moments before she warily dropped her eyes to the message: Thank you for framing that picture. I found the perfect spot for it.
He had attached a photograph, and Vicki gasped when she recognized the significance of what she was looking at.
“Oh, Ty,” she whispered shakily into the hand she’d lifted to her mouth. The pigeon took pride of place in the center of his—seemingly dismantled—remembrance wall. Three or four pictures remained, but it was vastly removed from the overwhelmingly sad shrine it had been before.