Page 68 of Lost in the Moonlight

I had a few days to figure it out. A few quiet days with Willow that I absolutely wanted.

Maybe it was selfish. Maybe it was another thing I’d regret. But bringing her joy, touching her and listening to her gasp and moan… Damn, did I want that. And I could have it in the quiet of these four walls.

To stop my mind from whirling in a repeated circle of self-flagellation and hope and back, I turned from thoughts of her to the work I’d been putting off for days—bills, expenses, and new inventory for the D.C. gallery. It kept me occupied for a couple of hours until my phone rang, jingling in my pocket. I was almost surprised I actually had it on me still, and I picked it up without looking. “Yeah?”

“Who’s the woman?” For half a beat I thought the husky, sensual voice was Felicity, and panic reared, but then Lyrica cleared her throat and added on, “Is she the reason you moved to Cherry Bay?”

My tension released once I realized who it was.

There’d been a few times last year when I’d been photographed with someone, an artist I was courting for the gallery or a random person at one of Dad’s fundraisers, and Felicity had instantly called and demanded to know who the woman was that I was with. It had happened even before the breakup and restraining order. I hadn’t understood how quickly she’d seen me with people until we found out she’d been having me followed.

Still, unease crept over my spine at the idea of anyone knowing about Willow, especially after I’d just convinced myself we were safe within these four walls.

“Exactly how did you find out about her?” I demanded.

“When I didn’t hear from you after the meeting with Trinity this morning, I sent her a text. She said you ran out of the studio, chasing some blond apparition.”

I swiped a hand over my face as thoughts of Sienna’s ghost lingered in the room.

When I didn’t respond, Lyrica apologized. “I’m sorry. That was a bad choice of words. You know I don’t believe you see ghosts, right?”

I closed my eyes. All my secrets had come out because of fucking Felicity. For so many years, I’d thought it was just a shame-filled hallucination. But now, with Sienna back, demanding new things of me, I didn’t know what it meant. Maybe the truth was much simpler. Maybe she was real—a ghost coming and going in my life.

I cleared my throat, ignored her question, and said, “You were right about Trinity’s work. It’s incredible. And, oddly enough, it’s exactly what I was starting to envision for this gallery.”

“You’re changing the subject, but I’ll allow it for now. Just know the conversation isn’t over.”

“You sound like Katerina.”

Lyrica laughed. “I’ll take that as a compliment. Now, tell me this vision you have.”

I told her about the blend of photorealism and surrealism I was considering, the hint of fairy tale that this town seemed to bring to life. She listened, dropping a question or two here or there. “It’s what I’m painting,” I told her honestly. “Nothing I’ve ever done before. Might be crap. You’ll have to be the judge of it, but regardless of whether I display my art or not, it’s the vibe I want here.”

“I can’t imagine anything you created being crap, Lincoln, but I also know you sensitive-artist types need to have your egos stroked. I’ll come down next week.” She said the last part as if she was being forced into hell. “Now, tell me who the woman is.”

My eyes went to the doorway and the sounds of the stand mixer I’d never thought I’d use but bought with the vision of family holidays in mind. The whirring noise was strangely and pleasantly calming.

“I’m not ready to share Willow with anyone yet.”

There was silence over the line for a beat before Lyrica said, “Well, fuck. That means it’s actually serious. Why didn’t you tell me?”

I was caught between a rock and a hard place. If I told her I’d known Willow for mere days, I’d never hear the end of it. But if I let her think it had been longer, she’d be hurt I hadn’t told her before now.

“I didn’t know her before I moved here,” I finally said. I’d lived here for over a week, hadn’t I? Wasn’t that enough time to find someone and date them?

She huffed out a laugh. “Now, that’s my Lincoln. Always feeling too much, too quickly. I hadn’t even recognized that you’d whirled me into a relationship until the rest of the world proclaimed it.”

“This is different,” I snapped.

“It’s not a negative trait,” Lyrica said softly. “You stick your heart on your sleeve, and it’s beautiful to watch. It worked its spell on me until I realized I loved you but wasn’t in love with you. You’ve been hurt a lot, by me and others. I just don’t want to see you get trampled again.”

My jaw ticked. “You were the only one who got hurt.”

She sighed. “How many times have I told you—”

“It’s not my fault. Believe it or not, I’m getting there.”

Surprise drifted over the line. “Really?”

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