Page 28 of Beautifully Ruined

A pretty sundress is there, too, bright and happy, and maybe enough to chase the ghosts of the previous day away.

I swallow.

And it’s previous day, not hours ago because my phone states it’s the next day, and it’s already afternoon.

How could I sleep for so long?

My legs tremble as I put the clothes down and, praying no one is gone on a washing spree, find the dress I wore last night.

I dig in the pocket and pull out the hairclip.

Smooth, silver, a curved wave that’d look pretty in a casual do or in something more evening. Classy with a touch of whimsical.

But then I look at it closely. I think it’s white gold and not sterling silver.

Either way, I don’t think Jean was a girl who fell through the cracks.

She comes from money.

“She must be missed…”

I set it down carefully and, leaving the too long T-shirt on, I head out the door, looking around.

Did Cade say we’re at Enzo’s?

“Wow, Ritchie Rich.” I look at the original modern art on the walls.

I couldn’t even begin to say who any of the artists are, but they look expensive.

I don’t open any of the doors in the quiet place that smells faintly of citrus and woods. It’s a calming, clean scent, and it smells rich, too.

For a moment, I try and think if Cade’s place smells rich.

Honestly, to me, now the weed isn’t in the air anymore, I think of it as honeyed and warm and slightly herbaceous, but more like the smell of…home.

Cade doesn’t have art like this, just framed posters I’m so used to. Old movie posters, some art cover prints from The New Yorker.

He has the entire floor, and I know a loft in Manhattan is expensive, but is it on par with this? I don’t know.

How much about Cade is there I don’t know?

Does he own his place? The building is cleaner than most, and he has neighbors on the floor below, but he has also fortified his place with some high-tech equipment.

“Equipment that didn’t work.” I swallow down the anger.

We were in there, why would he have it shuttered down like Fort Knox?

At the end of the hall is a set of stairs, and I take them, heading to the floor below.

The last step allows me a view of a great room, beyond that, a living room and also a kitchen that looks over a private garden.

And Cade.

He sits at the table, a laptop in front of him, his glasses on, and the sight twists my stomach and heart hard.

For a moment, I’m floored, not just by him but by that pull of anger from earlier that’s straight from our argument the night before, and it makes my skin heat.

I look at my feet as I make my way across the wide oak floorboards to the sandstone tiled kitchen and Cade.