Page 149 of Before Now

My eyes close for a long moment, lips pressed together. “Please tell me you got pictures of at least one?”

“The first,” he confirms, shifting to show me.

The idea of Foster snuggling an almost-two-year-old should not be so sexy to me or my ovaries. But it very much is. Then I see Imane on his lap, and I am unrecoverable. Her face is smooshed into the front of his hoodie while her little hands hold the strings, and he’s looking down at her with a bewildered smile.

“Where are we at with Foster now?” Roman asks as he tucks the phone away.

“I love him.” I sigh. “I have loved him, probably all along. But I think I’m finally ready to admit it. At least to you.”

Roman gives a long nod. “I’m glad you said that.”

My glare narrows, my curiosity piqued by his response. “Why does it feel like there should be more to that sentence?”

“Because there is.” He roughs up my hair before standing. “Let’s grab dinner.”

“You’re not going to tell me?”

“Nope.” On his way to the door, he glances over his shoulder and cracks a grin. “You’ll find out soon on your own.”

* * *

In the fourdays after Roman appeared at my door, I’ve received something from Foster every day. Flowers, a hoodie that smells like him, and a mug with a camera on it that says,Keep It Reel.

Then on Christmas Eve he sends an empty film canister which holds a key. No explanation, no indications of its purpose. I message him a picture of it with question marks, but he only sends more back.

Always cryptic and vague.

Roman convinces me to spend the holiday at his and Bea’s house. And of course, Foster shows up in parts.

His gifts are already under the tree when I arrive. He sent a toy guitar for Imane—red and black like his—to go with the drums he sent her after his visit. So I guess a bass is next on his list.

Bea and Roman receive tickets to a theater in the city for next month, along with Foster offering up my services to babysit when they go.

I want to have an opinion about it, but honestly, I’m already looking forward to it.

After I return to my apartment, my Christmas gift shows up. A delivery guy hauls in three vintage cases that scream movie set. Once he vacates with his cart, I flip the latches on the first and turn all giddy, seeing the packed-away mount. I scramble for the next and actually squeal at the studio camera from the 1930s. The third is accessories, lenses, and the original manual.

Foster’s present sits wrapped in the corner where our tree leaned last year, and I lug the cases over beside it.

The mysterioussoonreveals itself the following day. Or what I’m guessing is thesoon.

I’m reviewing the latest footage from the crew when there’s a pounding at my door. But when I check the peephole, rather than a delivery, I see the back of a chick’s head. A long black ponytail over the hood of her winter coat, and her arms crossed.

Figuring she’s here for Xander—not the first time someone’s shown up when he doesn’t respond—I smother a groan and open the door to tell her he’s not here. And not interested since he clearly hasn’t talked to her recently.

“Can I help you?” I ask, already knowing the answer.

Except then she turns around, and the entire world folds in on itself.

“Oh my God, it’s really you.”

Sage rushes me, locking her arms around me. It would knock the air out of me if I had any, but it vanished the second I saw her face. I slip back into my body after a second, a quiet sob escaping as I embrace her back.

“How…?”

“Foster,” she chokes out, pulling back and grasping my face, tears falling. “Or Adams? That’s a mind-fuck on its own.”

I scan her over like I do Imane, seeking out every change. She’s the exact same yet wildly different, and I drag her back for another hug. We stand just inside the door for a long time, not talking while we cry.

---