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"It’s all crap. I was being too ambitious to think I could have everything ready in such a short period of time." I tear the canvas off the easel and fling it aside.
"Hey, don’t do that." Zoey grabs the canvas and eases it back on the easel. "This thing is heavy."
"That’s probably because the painting on it sucks."
She laughs. "You’re selling yourself short. I think you have something here."
I stare at the outline of the face I’ve begun to draw but haven’t been able to continue with. "I thought I’d broken my dry streak. I managed to complete one painting. Then I started this one and couldn’t keep going."
She pats my shoulder. "You’ll figure it out.”
"Right." I roll my shoulders, trying to work out the tightness in them. "Meanwhile, I’m going to spend days here unable to go forward, something I hate."
"Maybe you should get out of the way and let yourself paint?"
"Is this the advice you give to all your authors?"
She laughs. "Something similar. I’m not a writer or a painter myself. But I have spent time around enough creatives to know that, often, you are your own worst enemy. Often, the best words or the best brushstrokes arise when you stop judging yourself and let it flow. Don’t hold back, Vivian." She squeezes my shoulder. "Don’t let your fears hold you back."
The buzzing of a phone reaches us, and she pulls it out from her bag. "It’s Summer." She answers the FaceTime call.
"Hey, you."
"Hey, guys." Summer smiles wanly.
"You okay?" I take in her wan features. She looks like she’s lost weight since I last saw her.
"I’m holding in there." She half smiles. "But when I think of Karma’s kids…" Her chin trembles.
"Oh, honey," Zoey cries.
"Is there anything we can do to help?" I swallow.
She shakes her head. "You guys are doing a lot by being there for me. I’m upset because Michael doesn’t want to hold a funeral for her."
"He doesn’t?"
She shakes her head. "He’s thrown himself into work and refuses to meet his brothers. He’s also decided not to hold a funeral. Instead, there'll be a private burial, with only him in attendance."
"That’s unusual."
Her forehead scrunches. "He’s not allowing himself to mourn. He’s moved, with the kids, out of the Primrose Hill house he shared with Karma. He’s not answering his brothers’ calls. Sinclair is the only one who's managed to speak with him, and only because he staged an intervention at the office. He said—" She squeezes her eyes shut. "He said Michael’s not in good shape. He’s barely eating; he’s lost weight. Only good thing is, he’s hired a nanny for the children, but he doesn’t want to see them. And he's refused to let me into their new place, so I haven’t seen the kids at all! It’s like he’s shut himself off from the world." A tear runs down her cheek, and she dashes it away. "I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to offload on you guys like that. Karma was the person I’d call first but"—she shakes her head—"I need to get a grip."
"It must be so difficult for you. I can only imagine how you must be coping. If something happened to my sister, I’d be wrecked, too," I offer.
She rubs at the moisture on her cheek. "Enough about me. Distract me. How are things going with you and Q?"
I shake my head. "Honestly? Not great."
"When I saw the two of you at the hospital, it seemed like he only had eyes for you."
I lower my chin. " I thought so, too.” I swallow around the knives that seem to be stuck in my throat. “I thought this thing between us was real. I thought he loved me. Maybe he does love me, but it seems like he’s running scared. He’s trying his best to push me away. He’s trying to hurt me. He’s trying to see how much I’ll take before I snap and leave him. I think he’s doing it so he doesn’t have to break up with me.” I shake my head. “In short, it’s a mess.”
“What are you going to do about it?” she asks.
“What do you mean?” I curl my fingers into fists. “What can I do about it when my husband seems to not want anything to do with me?”
She inclines her head, a considering look in her eyes. "You know, the one thing I’ve realized is that time is fleeting. One day, you're a little girl taking care of your sister in foster care; the next, both of you are grown up and having babies of your own. I’d give anything to have one more conversation with Karma. To hear her laugh. To go to her favorite bakery on Primrose Hill High Street and split a chocolate cookie, but it’s not going to happen. And that’s the worst thing. I took it all for granted, and it is gone. I knew Karma had a heart condition. I knew chances were she wouldn’t grow old with me, and yet… Somewhere along the way, I forgot that everything could change in the blink of an eye."
