her anyway. She probably deserved it, the way she’d turned him away, refusing to give him anything.
But for God’s sake, she was no coward. It was time to be real—with herself and him—and she was done with her old bullshit wrapped up in lame excuses.
It was time to bring it.
“Good, then my work is done here. Are you going back to Paris?” Avery asked.
“Yes. I’ll need to do some work there before I’m ready to come back for him. And to be honest, I think he was right about one thing. We both need a little bit of time apart. Some breathing room.”
“Agreed,” Bella said. “Sometimes, space makes people realize nothing is worth losing the person they love.”
They said goodbye to Avery and clicked off.
“Do you need help with anything?” Bella asked.
“No. This is something I need to do on my own. But thanks for being here for me, Bella.”
“Anytime. That’s what sisters are for.”
And though Taylor usually avoided big displays of sappy emotions, this time, she hugged her sister tight.
Chapter Twenty-Six
One Month Later
Pierce looked at his new collection. Satisfaction surged through him. It was a good start to his current theme: the effect of setting on mood. After developing the set of photos of the Eiffel Tower, he’d been struck not only by the glory of the structure itself but by the reaction of the crowds looking on.
He’d shifted his attention and discovered that couples became closer and families bonded, and that the instant of studying something either beautiful or ugly or shocking stripped the civilized surface of a person to expose the real stuff. The treasure. He was on a journey now where he knew what he searched for, and the quality of his work had jumped to a new level.
He shuffled through the pile of discarded prints that weren’t up to the new standard he required, then froze as his hand slid one across the table. He studied her face, noting the light dancing in her golden-brown eyes, the curve of her cheek, the stark pink of her hair against the encroaching night.
Pierce ran a thumb over the purse of her red lips and remembered that perfect day in Paris. The night he’d realized he loved her too much to walk away. This time, the pain tumbled through him a bit slower, a tad duller. It was there every day—a knowledge that the woman who owned his heart and mind was across the world, making her own life away from him.
Just like he’d requested.
He snatched back his hand and turned to look at the empty, mocking space behind his desk. He still hadn’t been able to put another painting up on the wall. Perhaps it was good to be reminded on a daily basis that he needed to stay away from her.
In the past month, he’d worked hard to focus on his career. He liked writing the blog for Escape and found peace in the days spent searching for that one picture that would help him understand things—to connect with humanity and the good parts while struggling with an intense loneliness and grief he feared had become a permanent part of him. But he embraced it all and found he was a bit stronger in himself.
He sighed and began straightening out his desk. It would be hard not to see Taylor for Thanksgiving. She was supposed to arrive Wednesday, and though he always spent the holiday with his parents and the Sunshine family, he’d convinced his parents to stay in Florida this year. He’d fly out and be there for the week. He just couldn’t bear to sit next to her at the dinner table and pretend he was okay.
Not yet.
The bell tinkled.
Muttering a curse under his breath, he called out, “Sorry, I’m closing up!”
Silence.
Pierce shook his head and trudged to the outer waiting room to get rid of his five-o’clock walk-in on a windy November evening.
He stopped cold.
“It’s me.”
Pierce stared. His throat dried up and his skin itched, every part of his being crying out to touch her. At the same time, a helpless frustration and anger rose up. Why was she here? Did she want to torture him by offering more excuses of why they couldn’t be together?
His voice sounded like gravel and grit. “What are you doing here?”
She gave a half laugh, then began to pick at her thumbnail. “I . . . I flew home early. I wanted to see you. I brought you something.”
“I can’t, Taylz.” He shook his head, his insides