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Maybe he could try again.
What followed that night was unknown to all but himself and whoever had answered the phone.
He’d gotten wine drunk and had called her.
Yes, he’d drunk dialed his ex on Christmas Eve like the complete numpty he was.
He didn’t have a very clear memory of what he’d said.
She’d answered. He remembered that.
And his phone said the call lasted twelve minutes.
What had he said to her in twelve minutes?
Oh, he could think of a lot of things.
The problem was, he wasn’t sure which things he’dsaidand which things he’d managed to keep inside his big mouth.
It could have been anything ranging from “I still love you,” to “I miss your tits.”
He groaned audibly as he made the left turn.
God, he hoped he hadn’t told her he missed her tits.
He did miss her tits. They were glorious. Best tits in the world.
But he hadn’t spoken to her in two years and that’s not what he’d wanted to say to her the next time they spoke.
What he’dwantedto tell her was he was sorry.
He was so damn sorry some days it was all he could focus on.
Hopefully he’d at least managed to apologize. It would make the next part of what he was about to do that much easier.
He turned the car into the alley entrance.
The studio was sandwiched in between a row of walk-up townhouses and an apartment building. It looked like nothing. No signage; no obvious indicators of what happened inside the brick walls.
Most of the people who worked there and the bigger artists used the back entrance because the parking off the alley allowed more privacy.
At least, that’s what he’d been told once upon a time.
And Nicole used the front door because her house was across and down the street.
It was late enough in the day that she should already be gone. He wanted to secure the job before seeing her.
His mind swam with vivid potential scenarios of how they’d meet again. He’d impress her with his growth, and they’d laugh about what an idiot he used to be.
“Your destination is on the right,” his GPS told him.
This was going to work. He could feel it in his bones.
It had taken him two years to apologize, and another seven months after that for him to have a reckoning in his own soul that came in the middle of the night in the Badlands of South Dakota.
But when Johnny Torres had called him and offered an open door, he knew it as surely as he knew the Jurassic Period was his favorite to teach.
He had a chance.
