ONCE MORE, WITH YOU

XX

Solené Beckett

It seems like it had been forever since Summer left.

A few weeks have gone by since I stood on her doorstep with divorce papers in my hands, hoping—begging—for her to take me back.

And she hadn't.

She hadn't shut the door in my face, hadn't told me it was over for good, but she also hadn't let me back in.

That should have been enough to keep me going.

But the space between us was suffocating.

I threw myself into work, into the agency, into the only thing I still had control over.

I was in the middle of casting when I felt it creeping in again—that hollow, gnawing ache in my chest, the kind that made it impossible to focus, the kind that only went away when she was near.

But she wasn't near.

She was nowhere near.

I sat at the long, glass conference table, flipping through a portfolio of potential new models. Emily, my casting director, was saying something about one of the girls, but I barely registered the words.

They all looked the same.

Tall. Beautiful. Perfect symmetry.

But none of them were her.

None of them had that sharp wit, that fire in their eyes when they challenged me. None of them would roll their eyes at my bullshit and then smile at me like I was the only person in the room.

None of them were Summer Preston.

"Solé?" My assistants voice cut through the fog. "Are you even listening?"

I blinked, forcing my expression to smooth over. "Yes."

She frowned, unconvinced. "Okay, then what did I just say?"

Silence.

She sighed, crossing her arms. "You look like shit."

"Thanks," I muttered, rubbing my temple. "Very professional feedback."

"You've been like this for weeks," she continued, ignoring my sarcasm. "You show up, you pretend to work, but you're not here. We all see it. We all know why."

I bristled. "Drop it."

"Maybe she just needs time," She said carefully. "Maybe if you just wait—"

"I have been waiting," I snapped before I could stop myself. "I waited three weeks before I even saw her again. I waited while I ripped my fucking life apart to fix what I broke. And now I'm waiting for her to decide if I'm still worth it. So yeah, I know she needs time."

She didn't flinch. Didn't even look surprised.

She just exhaled slowly, nodding. "Okay."

I pinched the bridge of my nose. "Just get Madison and Taylor signed with Louis Vuitton.

"Solé."

"I said drop it."

She hesitated, then nodded, gathering the headshots before leaving the room.

The second the door closed, I let out a breath and pressed my forehead against the cool glass of the table.

I hated this.

I hated feeling like my life had turned into something I couldn't recognize.

I was supposed to be thriving. I had my own agency. I had models lining up for the chance to work with me.

But none of it mattered.

Not if she wasn't here to see it.

I closed my eyes, inhaling sharply.

She smelled like vanilla and citrus. Like home.

I wondered if she still wore my sweatshirt to bed.

If she missed me when she closed her eyes at night.

If she still loved me.

Or if she was trying to let me go.

That thought alone nearly knocked the air from my lungs.

Because I couldn't let her go.

Not now. Not ever.

I just had to hope she wouldn't let go of me first.