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We turn at the same time.

Howard.

Tate scowls at his phone as a war rages in his head. Who’s he going to choose? Me or the man he’s known for all of five minutes. The man who views me as the enemy and the person stopping Tate from great and wonderful things.

After the third ring, he curses under his breath and answers. “Howard, I’m a little busy. Can I call you back?”

I can just make out Howard’s whiny tone. “I’ll be quick. I’ve booked you on a flight tomorrow night for New York. The label wants to get the ball rolling on the promo footage for the tour.”

Our eyes clash, full of ice and fire, the two in constant conflict.

He’s supposed to be here for another week before promotion begins. One week where we should savor each other’s company, making the most of our time together. I should put my foot down and demand he say no to Howard. This is our time. Our goodbye before I lose him to the world.

But what if I’m already losing him?

What if I’ve already lost him?

My parents deemed me inadequate from birth. I should be thankful that it took eight years of marriage to figure it out for himself.

My parents never cared if I stayed or went.

Tate doesn’t want to stay.

The seconds tick by as we stare off.

“Tate?” Howard hollers through the phone. “Are you there?”

Don’t go. Please stay with me. Don’t leave me.

“Sorry, Howard. It’s a bad line.” Tate blinks out of his stupor and walks out of the living room. “Can you email me the flight details?”

I watch my husband walk away. A bleak, foreboding sensation tells me it won’t be the last time. My legs crumple as I collapse onto the couch, next to the spot Tate just vacated. I run my hands over the imprint he left behind.

Everything is out of my control, spiraling toward a black hole.

I don’t know how we’re going to survive this.

THIS IS IT

There’s one road out of this sorry town

One road we’ll ride together

All I need is your hand, my guitar

And the promise of forever

FORTY-FOUR

TALIA

Foxtail Gardens is my favorite spot in Iris Meadows.

The park sits at the top of a hill overlooking the town, giving you a bird’s-eye view of the terracotta roofs lining Main Street. Each storefront stands out with its bright paint and awnings. Yellow and green buntings zigzag over the street, and in the fall, the town will switch them for orange and red.

I pick up my last Baja fish taco and carefully bring it to my mouth without spilling the contents onto my lap.

When I finished work, Tate was out running mysterious errands, and not wanting to eat alone, I sent a message to the girls, asking if they wanted to meet in Foxtail Gardens for an early dinner. Parker wasn’t available after Jimmy called an emergency meeting at the distillery.