I close the door after watching them drive away and gaze at the dense, heavy blanket of snow covering Lake Michigan as I dig my feet into the plush carpet of my living room. The large crystal-like flakes draw me in as I make my way to the line of windows covering the back of my house and tilt my head up. The gray snow clouds are suspended above. Soon, the sky will weave its way around, the snow will come down harder, and the buildings that are open on a Sunday in this touristy town will light up, dressed to perfection for the Christmas holiday. They’ll be buzzing with life. I love and hate the holiday season for many reasons.

I halt when I turn around to take in the open floor plan of my home. The color scheme is bright and cheery with different shades of blues, greens, and cream, with hints of purple, my favorite color, here and there.

You step inside the front door to the large open space allowing for panoramic views of Lake Michigan from the kitchen, dining area, and living room. There’s a three-season room right off the kitchen. The main-floor master bedroom suite has two enormous walk-in closets and a beautiful master bath with a large tiled shower. There’s a fully developed basement with a gym, sauna, and game room. The upstairs holds all the other bedrooms and baths. My grandmother knew me well when she hired the painters and the landscapers to begin turning this place into me. I can’t wait to be able to sit outside and enjoy the lake. For now, I’ll stay inside and watch the snow.

The pain in my chest leaks unpleasant warmth through my body. I’ve never felt like this in my life. One half of me is empty, the other bitter, angry, hurt, and unable to control myself from wanting to run and hide. I can’t do it, though. Not when anger rears her ugly head and screeches to lash out at life for hurting me. She wants to protect the empty side. The side is so undecorated that I shiver even though I’m warm. I want to close my eyes and go back to a time when my life was peaceful. When sadness wasn’t always digging a little further into my bones, no heartache filling me up during the day and running over me when I sleep. No guilt building walls around my heart. I’m suffocating, and I don’t know how to gasp for the breath to make me stop.

Today is my wedding anniversary. I remember our second anniversary like it was yesterday. The way Blake stood there undressing me as he did so many times before, only this time it wasn’t with his hands. It was with those stimulating, dilated eyes of his. The ones that I used to stare at when he was buried deep inside of me.

Voices prattle on in my head like a confused flowing river—the current slow and steady on one side, fast and rapid on the other. I wait for them to meet somewhere in the middle. But they don’t. They carry on. The obstructions differ, and my meandering mind drowns. I can’t keep up. Sinking under and letting go is the only choice I have to ease my troubled mind. To be free of the cold, fearful regret that has fried my brain and pointed its trigger finger in my blinding direction.

Burning blue orbs sent blood straight to my core. Those eyes needed to be staring down at me while he was filling me, making me whole. He lifted one hand to reveal a sexy-as-hell corset. Lifted the other to show me his signature purple tulip. My favorite color. Purple means passion.

His eyes traveled up and down my body as he mouthed, “Fuck, baby; this will look good on you. It’s purple. My favorite color on you.” I was wet with anticipation. I immediately looked away when my sister strolled in dressed in clothes that looked like she hadn’t changed in days. Hair a mess and eyes so red you would have to get up close to see their true color. I became irrationally pissed off at her.

I did my best to pay attention to what was happening in front of me instead of Blake on the other side of the room ready to take me away for the weekend. It was our two-year wedding anniversary. I had something to tell him. Something that would have to wait now because I doubted very much we would be going anywhere. Not with her in this frame of mind.

“What on earth are you doing here looking like that, damn you, Alexis?” I mumbled. She was supposed to close up for me tonight. I should have known better than to trust her. The lack of oxygen in the store shrinking the room made it difficult to breathe. My anger was spreading from my head to my toes. I loved my sister more than she would know, but why did she make me hate her at times?

She started apologizing for something again. Her words were rushing out, her hands flying all over the place. “Alexis, slow down. I can’t understand a word you’re saying.” I squeezed my eyes shut. My hand flew up to press against my chest. She was drunk or high again. Slurring her words and raising her voice a little too much.

I craned my neck to see Blake staring at her and me. Deep lines across his forehead were stressing his annoyance and confusion. He was angry.

I’d been down this road many times with her before. Always late, showing up half wasted, smelling of booze, eyes glassed over, and barely able to stand.

Every time he was a witness to this, I wondered if he would be tired of it and leave. He never did. Never said a word like he promised he wouldn’t.

He loved me. I wished I had the guts to pack up and leave this place with him.

However, the guilt would eat me raw. She was my sister. Blake knew I could never leave her.

I steady my hands on the cold glass of the window to stop the heavy pounding of my bleeding heart when my body reacts to thoughts of him, of her. I want to walk outside and bury myself in the snow. To freeze my brain so I don’t have to think anymore. Damn them. And damn me for missing them.

Today, though, I want to scream at the top of my lungs at my husband for not listening to me when I told him the weather was too awful to drive on the day he died. For him being responsible for the empty part of my flailing heart. For deserting me after healing it, then turning around and shattering it into fragments everywhere.

Every second of the day is more than I can handle. Death has been all around me for far too long. It burns right down the center of my chest. When is it going to be my turn to be happy? I wonder. Why do all the good people have to leave this earth before their time?

I walk down the hallway toward my bedroom, stopping to run my fingers down the smooth, velvety texture of a chair I had redone. Almost everything here is new to me. Someone else’s tossed-out furniture has become my delightful treasures.

I had no idea what was in store for me when I met with Hunter. All I knew was, I was scared out of my mind that I would lose it before I got there. I held myself together the best I could until he showed me what my grandmother had done. Never in my wildest dreams would I have guessed that she had bought me a home. Left me a letter and told me to start my life over. Here. In a place of serenity and peace. Am I really going to find peace here? Will I finally find a man who will bring out the Adriana I once was? One who will cover up the scars of my past with happy memories. I don’t like the woman I’ve become. She’s lonely; her thoughts are full of guilt and regret. I want more out of my life. I deserve to be happy.

I’ve been in Traverse City on and off for close to six months now. Buying items here and there, redoing them to my vintage liking. Between that and the store, it’s kept me busy. This four-bedroom home on one of the Great Lakes is too big for me. But it’s mine. It’s a gift from her. And I have never been more thankful for anything in my life.

Except for my new studio, the only place where my mind can wander, the place where I’ll soon be able to lose myself behind my lens and live out the fantasies of others, I have nothing else; and even that will take a long, hard winter before I’ll be able to stand behind my camera all day. I want what others have: a family, a home that looks lived in. I want a life.

I sigh. This self-pity is getting old. I tell myself it’s going to be a glorious day. It has to be.

My thoughts drift to Blake one last time. This is it, Adriana. No more thinking of him for the day.

“Why didn’t you listen to me? I needed you so much, Blake. I’ve lived years without you, and yet there are days like today and last night when I feel you near me. I hate you for doing this to me. For leaving me without saying good-bye.” I cry. Questions rule. Fury rears. They prod. Poke. Spreading feelers everywhere until I feel I’m about to lose control of myself.

I had the strangest feeling of being watched last night. It was weird. When I spun around, no one was there, so I continued working. I’m panicking, and I don’t like it. He left me broken-hearted, and now I’m thinking I’m feeling him. This has got to stop.

Deep, heavy breaths escape my lungs. I need to calm down.

I swallow the debris in my throat. The voices hush, and if I didn’t recognize the truth from Heidi’s words about me dating bleeding out of me, I would fall to the floor and crumble.

I’ve tried to stand on my own two feet. To carry on with the guidance of Daniel and Heidi. I can’t bear for anyone to see the loneliness I feel crawling all over my skin, inserting itself in each tiny, feeble speck of my body. Its steady beat clashing with the conviction in my brain.

I need to stop thinking so hard. I really do need to move on.