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I did my best to extract myself from the conversation without being rude before walking over to a wall that had two larger pictures but also several smaller ones. The one that drew my attention was of Joe Louis Arena. The image showed many decades: from before the arena existed to its construction on to its heyday and the more recent demolition.

My chest tightened and goose bumps crawled over my arms. I blinked back a tear. The picture was gorgeous and brought such a mix of happy and sad.

I reached out and stopped just short of touching it. The amount of texture and materials she used gave the image incredible motion—like a time lapse.

“You like it?”

I jerked, and the cider in my mug sloshed out onto my hand. I looked at Adriana, embarrassed.

“I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to startle.” She put her hand on my forearm and smiled. I returned what had to have been the most sheepish grin ever.

“This is stunning.” I struggled to find more to say, but I was afraid I’d sound lame.

“You’ve been standing here for quite a few minutes.”

“I played my first pro game there. I played in our last game there.” My words got caught on an unexpected lump in my throat. “My dad took me there when I was five to see the Arsenal.”

I took a minute to compose myself, willing tears not to fall. Adriana simply stood there, and we looked at the picture together. This captured all of that and the before and after. To the right of the picture, a small card showed its name, “Remembering the Joe,” and cost, thirty-seven hundred dollars.

“I remember seeing Terry in a game there shortly after we started dating. The incredible energy of the crowd was nothing like I’d ever experienced. I barely knew hockey, but I loved watching him skate. After so many years spent in that building, it was an obvious choice to create an image. I hope I did it justice for anyone who’s been there.”

“You have.” Damn it. I had to wipe at my right eye.

Adriana hugged me across my shoulders. “It means a lot that it’s moved you this way.”

I looked at her, and we traded small smiles. “Who do I talk to about buying it? I would like to hang this in my house.”

FOURTEEN

AUSTIN

KYLE HAD every right to be pissed. His message came through loud and clear in his text.

When it came to business, I was on time or gave a heads up that I’d be late and if the meeting could start without me.

While I should’ve extended the courtesy to Kyle that I did to my work colleagues, I probably should’ve begged off for the night because I still had things to review. Coming off last week’s presentation, we had follow-ups due at the end of the week. Plus, Chevy came forward and said they wanted a review of our plans for the two years remaining on our contract, which didn’t seem like good news.

My need to see Kyle and apologize overrode the urge to work.

As long as I had feedback to the team by morning, it’d be fine. Truth be told, I could probably take care of everything first thing, but as usual, I didn’t want to be a holdup if anyone wanted to get started early.

Looking inside once I’d passed off the car to the valet, I took a deep, steadying breath. I didn’t see Kyle but the place was packed. Crowds weren’t my favorite, especially social ones. Managing strangers in a business setting came easily. When I had to interact with people I didn’t know among a sea of others, it stressed me out. Words escaped me, I got jittery. I didn’t like it, but I’d get through it like I had at the auction.

I turned on the charismatic, confident person I am for work gatherings. I’d be worn out later, but Kyle needed to know his importance to me.

Despite the chill, I stayed outside to scan the crowd. I hoped to spot Kyle so I could go directly to him but not all of the gallery was visible from the front windows.

I took out my phone and brought up his text screen. He hadn’t even seen my last couple of texts. Was he ignoring me or simply not checking because he was busy in there?

The longer I stayed outside, the more my nervousness increased exponentially. So many butterflies swirled in my stomach, I considered leaving to make it stop.

I needed to take the leap and get in there, join the party, and take whatever lumps I had coming for being a late jerk.

Entering, I immediately warmed up and held back a sigh as the air felt good on my face. I still didn’t see Kyle. He had to be here.

“Take your coat, sir?” asked one of the many people working the event. They were everywhere in black pants, white shirts, and black vests. Typical attire. This was a well-managed event.

“Yes, thank you.” As I took it off and handed it over, I spotted a bluish gray peacoat that I’d seen Kyle wear on one of the racks. Fingers crossed that it was his.