Page 17 of Yours Until Forever

In here, I’m not James’s ex-wife, or Sarah’s always-put-together mother, or the quiet woman at school functions. I’m just Amelia, a composer who hears the world in counterpoint and harmony.

My phone chimes at 10:45 a.m., pulling me out of my musical trance. I assume it’s my agent with more contract details, but when I check, it’s an email from Gage.

Holy shit. He actually sent it on time. Earlier, in fact.

When I open the attachment, my jaw nearly drops. This isn’t just a draft for me to add to or improve. It’s comprehensive, thoughtful, and detailed. He’s included everything we discussed, including the things I mentioned this morning, plus aspects I hadn’t even considered like contingency plans for common issues like absences on presentation day.

Without thinking, I text him.

Me:

Did you really write this, or did you have an assistant do it?

His response comes quickly.

Gage:

Hello to you too, Amelia.

I can almost hear his dry tone.

Me:

Seriously, this is extremely thorough.

Gage:

You sound surprised.

Me:

I am. Most people’s idea of “thorough” is not this.

Gage:

I’m not most people.

No, he certainly isn’t.

Me:

The display guidelines are particularly impressive.

Gage:

We can’t have the fair turning into a circus of glitter and vinegar.

I can’t stop the smile on my face and find myself madly texting a reply to that.

Me:

Your sarcasm is noted.

Me:

Thank you. This is excellent. I’ll send it to Mrs. Liu today.

Gage:

---