he’d wound up buying wasn’t her dream appliance with five burners. There was no clutter or traces of crumbs on the counters, as there always had been if Noelle had been making something. Relief began seeping into his veins as he headed toward the bedrooms.
She wasn’t back here, either. Though Cale hadn’t done any structural work to the bedrooms or bathrooms, the blinds and a different comforter changed the vibe. He could look at the bed now and not see her sprawled across it with her blond hair spread across the pillow, sound asleep when he came home from work.
Cale went to the window and opened the blinds to let in the sunlight, then did the same to the rest of the windows and the vertical blind at the sliding glass door. The bright light brought the place back to life like it hadn’t been in months. It made the condo look appealing, homey.
But not for him.
The set of keys felt heavy in his hand, still buried in his pocket as he jingled them. He gave the living room a critical perusal, searching for anything out of place. The Sports Illustrated was long gone, tossed into the Dumpster he’d had to rent to dispose of all the remodeling debris. He’d packed away the pictures and stowed them in a box in the top of the closet. It looked like a picture-perfect layout that would appear in a home magazine.
The Realtor would love it.
He took the keys out of his pocket and removed the one to the condo. Clenching the single key in one hand, he held up the keychain in his other, a gold letter J for Jackson on a black background that Noelle had given him when he’d closed on this place.
The key would go, the condo would be sold, but that didn’t mean he was “getting rid” of Noelle.
Certain now that his moment of clarity had been accurate, Cale walked out of the condo one last time and headed to the real-estate office one block over, next door to the Chinese restaurant.
No matter what happened in his future—if Rachel gave him a chance, if he one day had a family of his own—he’d always have the keychain, and he’d always have Noelle in his memory and in his heart.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
CALE HAD LOOKED everywhere for Rachel and was beginning to wonder if she was standing him up—or at least avoiding him.
Instead of letting him pick her up, she’d insisted on riding to the concert with her mother and meeting him here on the patio of the Silver Sands Hotel, at the preparty they’d organized for all the volunteers. As he stood on the threshold between the lobby and the patio, he scanned the crowded area for her familiar blond head. Unfortunately, as short as she was, his chances of seeing her from afar were not good. He began a meandering path toward the long buffet table that was covered with finger foods and desserts, keeping an eye out for Rachel.
“Hey, Cale.”
He turned to see Captain Joe Mendoza, who slapped him heartily on the back.
“It’s the big night, huh?” Joe said.
“Long time coming,” Cale responded. “Figured you’d be home with that new baby. How’d you get out of the house?”
Joe whipped out his phone and showed Cale a photo of his wife, Faith; their two-week-old daughter; Derek’s wife, Macey; and their tiny baby girl. The two women sat side by side on a couch and held up the infants as if they could smile for the picture.
“I made sure she’s got sympathetic company tonight,” Joe said. “Derek’s on duty, so it worked out well.”
“Look at them,” Cale said, grinning. “Yours has her mama’s eyes, doesn’t she?” Her eyes were open and alert, while the Severson baby snoozed on.
“Yep. Amaya is one beautiful little girl. Gonna be a knockout someday,” Joe said, pride dripping from his voice. “I’m completely unbiased, of course.”
“When she hits the knockout stage, you’re gonna have your hands full.”
“Oh, she’ll be locked in the house till she’s thirty.”
The two men laughed and Cale excused himself to search for Rachel. He made it to the buffet table without a glimpse of her, so he picked up an appetizer plate and filled it with mini sandwiches, nuts and butter mints. As he glanced back in the direction he’d come from, still searching, really starting to wonder if Rachel was okay, he became aware of someone to his left, near the makeshift bar, staring at him. He turned his head