The last of the guests disappeared through the door. Isla locked it behind them, giving Tiffany a thumbs up before beginning the task of sorting paperwork at the front counter.

Tiffany scanned the gallery, noting the rapid and efficient dismantling of the catering set-up. Her practiced eye assessed each art installment in turn. Satisfied all was in order, she retreated to her office and sank into the plush leather chair, kicking off the high heels and wiggling her toes. She loved these shoes, but they were murder on her feet by the end of a busy evening. She'd barely had a chance to sit since her brief lunch break, and it was now after ten.

"It went well." Her assistant strolled into the office and dropped a thick folder onto the pile on Tiffany's desk. She picked up the stack of invoices, flipping through them. "Leave me a note on which works you want for permanent display. I'll hang them tomorrow and ship the sold pieces."

"Will do." Tiffany leaned back and stretched her arms high above her head while she attempted to contain the yawn. "Thanks for the good work! I couldn't have done it without you."

"You're welcome." Her assistant gave her a warm though tired smile. "Anything else?"

"You look exhausted. I'll organize the invoices while the caterers finish." Tiffany waved toward the door. "Head home. We have a lot to accomplish tomorrow."

"Which is amazing! It's great to see that appointment book filling with names." Isla paused in the doorway. "You sure you don't want me to wait? We could go for a drink to celebrate our success."

"No, I'm beat." Tiffany offered her a smile. "I'd probably fall asleep in my drink. How about a rain check on that?"

"Deal! Night, Boss!" Her assistant disappeared into her own office to collect her things.

Tiffany closed her weary eyes, sighing in contentment. Boss. That word had a magical ring. She'd opened this gallery in downtown Chicago four years ago, and it had been a labor of love. Now, at long last, her hard work was paying off. The profits were slim, but she persevered. Every time she stepped through the door, a sense of pride filled her at all that had been accomplished.

Forty-five minutes later, Tiffany pulled on her comfortable walking shoes, set the alarm, and locked the front door, taking a moment to enjoy the light summer breeze fluttering through her long hair. It felt refreshing after hours of being cooped up indoors.

The sidewalks were quieter at this time of the evening, but the traffic never seemed to cease. She enjoyed the beat of the city and the bright lights as she strolled toward her home.

A mix of emotions overtook her as she crossed the lobby and rode up the elevator to her floor, letting herself inside the dark and quiet apartment. She'd fallen in love with the cozy space and purchased it only a year before she'd opened her gallery. Though small, it was the first home she could call her very own.

Ever since she'd broken her engagement to Harrison Taylor, she'd led a solitary existence. Some days were lonely, and she longed for someone to come home to, but... none of her relationships had worked out as planned. Men asked her out on occasion, but this past year had been rough. Her life had become complicated, so she embraced the advice from her therapist, Liz. Take your time and learn to be alone. It's not healthy to need a man in your life every moment of every day. Don't rush into anything. Deal with your immediate issues first. It tested her resolve. Tiffany hated being alone—something she'd discovered at the tender age of thirteen.

She padded through the dim and silent apartment, pausing at the bank of floor to ceiling windows. The full moon hung low over the lake, but the stars were obliterated by the glow of city lights. Tiffany closed her eyes, picturing the Milky Way as seen from the beach in the Vineyard, remembering those precious nights she'd spent with Aiden alone. Nights when she hadn't had to vie for his attention. Hours of time where she'd become the center of his universe. Incredible nights when the rest of the world ceased to exist, and she felt safe and loved and needed, cocooned in his arms, talking, watching the stars appear, or making love in front of the fire. She wrapped her arms around herself, wishing she could transport back in time and recapture the pure happiness that now eluded her.

There had been a time when her involvement with Aiden seemed anything but certain. Tiffany had only been at the boarding school a few months and far too shy to approach the larger-than-life Aiden or engage in the shameless and endless flirtation bestowed on him by other girls. Instead, she'd coveted him from afar. How could an awkward girl compete with the bevy of lovely teenage girls who surrounded him daily? Envy filled her as she witnessed the comfortable, easy friendship her roommate, Alexis Carr, shared with Aiden. She longed to be part of their tight-knit group.

Then, during those last months of school before summer break, Alex had intervened, tired of Tiffany's inability to act on the mad crazy crush she'd been nurturing on the adorable, dark-haired, brown-eyed teenage boy. An invitation to join them on one of their escapades, along with a little finagling from Alex to allow her time alone with Aiden, changed everything. That one night had caused a cascade of events that altered the course of her life. She'd blossomed under his attention. Aiden became the man she loved beyond measure, the man she'd marry then betray, the man she'd long for during many endless and lonely nights.

Her cheeks grew damp, and she dabbed at them as she continued her journey through to the bathroom. She avoided the mirror as she washed her face as most days she couldn't bear to see what she'd become. Instead, she left the lights off and donned soft pajamas before crawling into bed.

She lay in the dark for some time before she turned on the bedside lamp.

The ornate silver double picture frame on her nightstand brought back memories. Aiden had intended for it to be one of Tiffany's gifts for their second Christmas as a married couple, but things hadn't gone as planned. Her heart ached as she recalled peeling off the colorful bow and wrapping paper while sitting alone on the hard wooden floor. She'd spent that holiday in a half-empty apartment, weeping and mourning the careless actions that had driven her husband into the arms of another woman.

As painful as the memories were, she'd never had the heart to dispose of the frame. It seemed fitting it now held a picture of a red-faced baby bundled in a pink blanket, her dark, serious eyes staring out at the world. A photo of a teenage girl occupied the second spot. Tiffany traced a fingertip over her daughter's face. Savannah's long blonde hair whipped in the breeze as the girl gazed down the beach.

It had been irresistible. Tiffany's artistic eye framed the picture in her viewfinder, snapping it without thinking, along with an entire roll of pictures. She'd tucked them away, not knowing quite what to do with them. She couldn't display them, nor could she admit to anyone that she'd lurked on the outskirts, spying on Aiden's happy family.

Sadness overflowed, squeezing her heart. That day her own eye had been drawn in the direction of her daughter's focus to where Emily cuddled Aiden's tiny precious son in her arms. The couple had looked so content and fulfilled, the perfect family Tiffany had dreamed of, but never had. Perhaps the elusive wish would forever remain out of her grasp.

She brushed the heartbreaking memories aside and concentrated on the girl. Apart from those deep brown eyes that reminded her of Aiden, it could be Tiffany herself standing on that beach. The resemblance and the reality her daughter had grown up without her caused a pang deep inside her chest.

A tear trickled down her cheek. Her daughter's final rejection had torn something loose deep inside. The girl refused to give her a chance to make amends, and even worse, Aiden allowed it to happen. He hadn't fought for her. The familiar rush of anger flooded through, but she pushed it down and flicked off the light, settling against her pillow and closing her eyes.

Tiffany tossed and turned, unable to sleep while the tangled emotions ran rampant, crushing her under their weight. In such times, her mind refused to shut down, constantly seeking the answer to the never-ending question; how to make things right?

✵ ✵ ✵

Tiffany looked up from her perch on the edge of the chair as the door opened.

Liz beckoned. "Come in, Tiffany."

Setting the magazine onto the table, she rose from her chair and followed the dark-haired woman into the inner sanctum, a space dominated by overstuffed chairs and a comfortable sofa decorated with bright throw pillows. A flowering plant with vibrant fuchsia blooms, long graceful stems, and lush green leaves sat in the middle of the coffee table. Tiffany wondered if this token effort cheered up the numerous depressed individuals who filtered through this office daily.

Lowering herself onto the couch, she straightened her back and clasped her hands in her lap, uncomfortable with the whole process. She hated talking about herself, and always had.

Liz folded her own hands on top of her notebook, her keen eyes scrutinizing every movement Tiffany made. After several moments, her therapist broke the silence. "You're on edge today, and you look tired."

"I didn't sleep well last night." Tiffany shrugged. "And I had a busy evening."

"How did the art show go?"

"I'm thrilled with the results. Not all shows have such an amazing turnout." She forced a smile.

"Uh-huh." Liz gave her a searching look. "But you're unhappy."

"It's been a year since she refused to see me." Tiffany tucked her feet beneath her and curled into a ball. "I'm stupid to obsess over it."

The other woman tilted her head. "Why do you think it's stupid?"

"Why would she want to know me? I'm nothing to her! She has Emily, the fantastic mommy replacement, and Aiden didn't help my case. My daughter doesn't need me. She never has."

"Tell me how you feel about that."

Tiffany met the woman's eyes. "We've been over it so many times!"

"And yet you're still holding it all inside. At some point, you need to forgive yourself... and him."

Tiffany bowed her head, shaking it as she traced the floral design on one of the pillows with a manicured fingertip. "How can I?" she whispered. "I let them take her away and never even had the opportunity to see her again until she was almost fifteen."

"You were only fifteen when they took your baby away."

"Yes." Tiffany hugged the soft pillow to her chest. "I know what you're going to say. We were too young. We were immature. It's all for the best. Her adoptive family gave her everything we couldn't."

"No, I wasn't planning to say that." The slight shake and tilt of her head relayed exasperation, but Liz's expression softened quickly. "Having a child is a personal choice only you could have made. I want to help you find peace with the events that transpired. You've lived with an enormous burden of anger, guilt, and shame for years. But, there's nothing shameful in having a child or in giving that child to a good and loving home."

"Tell that to my family and all the other people who stared, and shook their heads, and talked behind my back. They judged me to be an irresponsible slut for having a baby when I was fifteen."

"No one said it was fair that society is hard on women while giving men a free pass for the exact same behaviors. Anyway, it doesn't matter. You experienced a devastating loss at a young age regardless of what anyone believes. Other people's opinions change nothing. You have to accept it, make peace with it, and forgive yourself."

✵ ✵ ✵

After her exhausting counseling session, Tiffany dragged herself to her car and negotiated the crowded roads. She clenched her hands on the steering wheel, her palms growing clammier with each mile. Finally, she drew up in front of the house with its expanse of manicured lawn. She eyed the vine-covered trellis and beds filled with the fading blooms of summer.

Tiffany took her time trudging up the front steps and through the door.

"Anybody home?" She hung her coat and padded through to the kitchen at the back of the spacious house.

"Tiffany. Good, you're here." Her mother gave her a smile, moving in for a hug. "I've made us lunch."

"Where's Father?" She glanced around. Soft strains of music flowed through the air, but otherwise, the house remained silent.

"He won't be home until dinnertime. Did you need to speak with him?"

"No." Tiffany avoided her mother's gaze. "Just curious."

"Uh-huh." Michelle sipped her wine, motioning to the half-empty bottle. "Would you like some?"

"Please." Tiffany sank onto one of the stools.

Her mother poured her a glass of the rich red liquid and set it in front of her. "Your show went well?"

"We received several orders." Accepting the wine, she swirled the burgundy liquid before tasting it. "This is a nice one."

"How's everything else?"

Tiffany shrugged, staring over the backyard, watching the leaves fluttering in the wind.

"No news to share?" Her mother placed a sandwich in front of her. "You're not seeing anyone new?"

"Nope." She took a bite, chasing her first mouthful with a liberal dose of wine.

"Have you seen her?" Michelle asked.

"Don't call, don't write, and most certainly do not visit. That's what Aiden said, Mother. He refuses to allow me anywhere near him or Savannah. He wishes to have nothing to do with the Baxter family. End of story." Tiffany shoved her half-eaten sandwich across the shiny counter.

"You're wasting away." Her mother edged the plate closer to Tiffany. "You need to eat."

"I'm not a child! I'm fully capable of deciding if I'm hungry, Mother." Tiffany took a large gulp of wine, the crystal ringing as she smacked the glass onto the quartz counter. She extended her index finger, poking at the plate, sliding it away as she curled her lip. "What did you want to talk about?"

"I wanted to see my daughter." Michelle snatched up the plates, making a show of depositing the remains of their lunch in the trash. "You never visit and rarely call. We've gone back to your days as a surly teenager. And don't think I haven't noticed you're avoiding any meal where your father might be present."

"I'm busy with the gallery!" Tiffany rolled her eyes. "Running a business isn't easy."

"No, but surely you could spare some time for your mother." Michelle planted her flattened palms against the counter, taking a few breaths. "Perhaps you'd allow me to treat you to some pampering at the spa on Saturday, with a little shopping in the afternoon."

Fighting it would be futile. When her mother gave her that disappointed look, Tiffany didn't have the heart to refuse. "Fine. Saturday."

"Wonderful! You won't regret it." Michelle patted her knee. "So, how are things with Alex and Jenna?"

✵ ✵ ✵

"Aren't you supposed to be somewhere in about... ten minutes?" Isla tapped on her watch.

"Don't remind me. An afternoon of torture with my mother. Like lunch on Monday wasn't bad enough." Tiffany forced out a fake cough. "Maybe I'm coming down with something."

"Up!" Isla pulled her from the chair. "Go for lunch with your mother! Some daughter you are!"

"You didn't grow up with her." Tiffany sighed as she retrieved her handbag from her desk drawer. "Now she acts like she's been nominated for mother of the year."

"Have you ever told her how you feel?" Isla lifted a brow.

"What's the point? She never listens, yet she always knows what's right for me. Monday I got lectured about not eating enough. I thought she'd threaten to withhold dessert if I didn't finish my sandwich."

"I can't say I disagree about the eating." Isla eyed her. "How much weight have you lost over the past few months?"

"Not you too!" Tiffany threw her an annoyed look. "It's not only that! She droned on about my ex-friends and my ex-husband, and then we played twenty questions about my non-existent dating life. Can you imagine? She insists I settle down, like I've never been married or engaged. Look how great those relationships turned out! Though in her mind the wedding to Aiden didn't count. That was my young and stupid phase, and hey! I proved them right and totally fucked it up."

Isla squinted at her.

"I'm ranting again, aren't I?" Tiffany hung her head.

"It's fine. But now you're late." Her assistant shoved an elegantly wrapped parcel into her hands. "Don't forget the peace offering." Isla steered her toward the door.

"I'm going!" She glowered at the other woman as she snagged her handbag.

A few minutes later, Tiffany arrived at the spa. Though she usually loved pampering, the mere thought of an afternoon with her mother had Tiffany's blood pressure rising and the little appetite she had melting away.

"I was worried you'd forgotten." Michelle rose from her chair, drawing Tiffany in for a hug.

"Sorry. I got busy—"

"At the gallery. Yes, I know. Always too busy for anything but work." Her mother waved down one of the attendants.

Tiffany gave a grateful sigh as she sank into the chair several feet away from her mother's. Her luck held out during her manicure, but she wasn't so fortunate when they were placed side by side at the foot baths.

"You've been carrying around that fancy parcel like it contains a treasure. Aren't you going to open it? Who's it from? A new man?"

Tiffany fought the urge to either throw the box in her mother's face, or rush out the door, but instead, she handed the present to her mother. "It's for you."

"For me?" Her mother beamed before she tugged on the lavender satin ribbon, taking her time unwrapping the box. When she opened the lid, she emitted a small gasp. "Is this...?" Michelle stared at the photo. "It's her?"

"You don't have to take it." Tiffany extended her fingers, anxious to reclaim the gift box.

"Why wouldn't I want it?" Michelle lifted the frame and pressed it to her chest, directly over her heart. "She's my granddaughter. I'm speechless. How could you ever think I wouldn't want a picture of my only grandchild? I've never even seen her!"

Tiffany frowned as she noted the shimmering blue eyes. If she didn't know better, she'd think her mother was about to burst into tears. "You've never wanted to see her."

"Oh, honey." Michelle bowed her head. "This is an incredibly special gift. Thank you."

"You like it?" Tears burned her eyes at her mother's obvious pleasure at receiving the photo.

"I love it. She's so beautiful, and despite your assumptions, I'd love to meet her. One day, perhaps my wish will come true."

✵ ✵ ✵

The rest of the afternoon progressed smoothly—or at least as smoothly as a visit ever did with her mother. After their spa visit, they spent another two hours shopping. A little of Michelle Baxter went a long way, so Tiffany pleaded exhaustion to avoid dinner and returned to the gallery.

Tiffany begged off dinner, though, preferring to head back to the gallery. A little of Michelle Baxter went a long way.

"I won't even ask how it went." Isla studied her face before handing over a vellum envelope. "Did she at least like the gift?"

"She said she did, but who ever knows with that woman. For all I know, she'll show it to Father and he'll toss it in the fireplace." Tiffany inserted a nail under the flap and plucked out an invitation, skimming through it before handing the embossed card to Isla.

"This show looks amazing," Isla said. "You might find some new artists to represent. I'll book tickets and a hotel for you."

"Let me look at my calendar." Her stomach twisted. Things were tight, but as much as she wanted to go, it would mean groveling for extra funds from her father. He'd provided most of the financing, her own funds had disappeared long ago during her struggle to get the gallery operable.

Isla raised a brow. "We need more artists."

"Right. Book it." Tiffany sighed. She'd swallow her pride and do what needed to be done to survive.

*****

I hope you've enjoyed the book sample. The full novel is available on iBooks, Kobo, and Kindle, and coming soon to paperback!