Page 58 of Mending Hearts

“Well, in five years or ten years when you look back at the months you spent with her, do you want to wonder what might have happened if you’d put yourself out there, or do you want to know you gave it your all? I mean, do you think youcouldlove her?”

I stared at the clouds of balloons in the living room, thought of all the things I’d left at the house for her, at the iced tea in the fridge, at the way my room felt cold once she’d left it each night. “I think I’m half in love with her already.”

“What’s that saying?” Mom called over. “In the end, we only regret the chances we didn’t take? Put your heart out there, Tyler. We’ll help you pick up the pieces if it comes to that.”

“Easy for everyone to say when it’s not their heart, their sanity. Once she leaves, I’ll still see her everywhere. As long as she’s famous, I’ll have to see her all the time—sometimes in places I’ll expect to, and other times, it’ll be like a punch to the gut. How do I…I barely survived Katie leaving me.” I grabbed the back of my neck. “I barely survived, and Ineverhad to see her.”

It was the most honest I’d been with Emily or my mother about that period of my life. When Katie left, I spent months drowning in alcohol, half-heartedly building the thrift shop, and praying she realized she’d made a mistake and come running back.

Lately, I was seeing that I broke off most of my long-term, committed relationships when they didn’t seem to measure up, when the buzz I’d felt with Katie didn’t appear. But maybe I’d also been a bit afraid to risk my heart with the same intensity I’d done with Katie. Maybe there’d always been a part of me I’d held back, meaning I could never experience the same emotional heights. I knew how far that fall was, how much it hurt.

“I guess I need to figure out what regrets I’m okay with having.” I grabbed my keys off the counter and headed for the door.

“I vote none,” Emily called. “For the record, I vote for no regrets.”

Chapter Seventeen

Mia

Mia

The day had been overwhelming. Every time I opened a cupboard or reached for something familiar, I stumbled across a token from Tyler. The gifts started this morning when I opened my bedroom door and found a gorgeous dress hanging in the basement from the ceiling. It was the prettiest shade of blue-green I’d ever seen. So rich, it made my teeth ache. Of course I tried it on, and no surprise, it fit like someone had made it just for me. I was pretty sure Tyler had sewn it in the back room at his shop. Last week when I stopped by to visit, he’d thrown a drop cloth over something this color on his sewing table.

In ten minutes, he was picking me up for dinner.

What would it be like to have him for more than just this birthday? Would he do something like this every year?

The amount of thought and work he put into these little surprises caused tears to pool. I didn’t even know when his birthday was, and he did all of this for me.

Beside me, my phone pinged with a new email. They’d been arriving all day from people all over the world with birthday wishes. When I opened my device, I was only a little surprised to see Laura Malone’s name. The frosty silence was broken for my birthday.

Happy Birthday, my darling daughter. I hope you’re enjoying your time off. Two things—the VISION Gala is coming up, and last we spoke, you didn’t have a designer pegged. Use some common sense and make some calls. We don’t want this opportunity to slide, or you won’t get an invite next year.

There’s an up-and-comer from the label sniffing around trying to get some face-to-face time with you. Avoid her at all costs. She’s a fame seeker. You know the type.

When you remember I’m your mother and I love you, call me. I really do hope you’re having a good birthday. I’ll spend the next few hours reliving my labor pains and wondering what I’ve done to deserve being cut out of your life (however temporary).

At the bottom was a photo of a beaming Laura in the hospital holding me, with my father cropped from the scene.

I rolled my eyes at the last few lines and threw my phone toward the couch. Leave it to my mother to burst my lovely Tyler bubble. That photo only made an appearance when we were having a particularly vicious fight. Still, that was probably the first family photo ever taken. Crossing the room, I picked up my phone and clicked on the photo again, enlarging it. This time, I studied it.

Had my mother really been as happy as she looked in the photo? I never trusted pictures anymore since I was forced to smile in all kinds of situations, sometimes when I really wanted to be screaming or crying at some injustice. Laura probably understood the value of a false narrative even back then. She’d been the one to teach it to me.

Most people believed what you showed them. Very few bothered to lift the veil, to ask the tough questions, to really know the person behind the mask.

When I took in all of the trinkets Tyler had left strewn around the house, I had to admit, he really knew me.

And the dress.

I gazed at it on the hanger. The lace overlay was something called a lavender pattern. I’d looked it up. Wearing it felt like letting him claim me, and I loved the notion while also feeling terrified of it. The halter top hugged my body and slid away. Sometimes, that’s the way I felt about Tyler, too. He was so close, and yet, oddly far away.

Pasha opened the front door and nodded toward the dress. “Get dressed.”

“I’m admiring it,” I said, straightening while my fingers trailed along the fabric.

“He think you no like. Get dressed.” He threw his chin in the direction of the small two-piece bathroom.

A valid point. I should get it on before he arrived. My mother’s email had distracted me, and then my scattered feelings were also hard to pin down. All of these baby hormones were playing with my head.

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