Sebastian drove back home feeling dejected and regretful. He really had blown it. He’d found her, sure, but it was too late. After finally finding someone he cared about, after losing her, then finding her, he’d still lost her in the end.

What had he been thinking would happen? He’d show up and rescue her, be the knight in shining armor once again? Had he thought she was that lost and distressed that she’d come running back to him? That he was so amazing and handsome and rich that it wouldn’t matter how he talked to her—she’d be thrilled he showed up and forget everything just because he was there?

How stupid he had been. His arrogance had caused him to lose it all. Now he didn’t know what to do. If he wanted to really care for her how she wanted, then he needed to do what she asked. He needed to give her space and time. No matter how hard that was for him, no matter how badly he wanted to be there for her, he had to do this.

When he got back home, he opened a fresh bottle of Scotch and poured himself a hefty drink. He turned on some mindless TV show and watched and drank. He had no idea what the show was about. He couldn’t stop thinking of Amelia.

Later, he called Craig to give him the update of what he’d found out. “Call me when she’s discharged or if anything changes,” he said.

Then he hung up and poured another drink.

The next morning, he got a phone call shortly after he woke up. “Hey Craig,” he said.

“She was discharged this morning.”

“Thank you. Where is she headed to?”

“Umm, I… I thought you would know that.”

“No. Why would I?” He couldn’t help but feel a little angry. What had Craig been doing all this time?

“You were there with her. I thought she would have told you where she was going.”

Right. He should have asked. He should have at least gotten her mother’s address or phone number, for Pete’s sake. How stupid. Now he had nothing again. He didn’t know where she was or how to contact her. He let out a frustrated grunt.

“I didn’t ask. I’ll need you to find out for me. Her cousin, who lives in her mother’s old house, might tell you something.”

“I’ll see what we can find out.”

If he hadn’t gotten himself drunk and filled with self loathing, he would have driven back there himself. But he also knew she didn’t want to see him. She said she needed time. How much time exactly? He had no idea how long it would take a woman to recover from something like that. Did they ever? Or when would she recover enough to talk to him again? Would she ever?

His mind replayed the loop of everything he’d done wrong. How had he gone from never caring about anyone to caring about someone so much that he couldn’t stand it when he screwed up?

He passed out some time later that afternoon and woke to several missed calls from Craig. He called him back immediately.

“We found her,” he said. “She is with her mother, and we have the correct address. We have confirmed that her car is there, and we have confirmed that she is there.”

“Good.” His head pounded, and he still felt a little drunk. “Send it all to me. Oh, Craig? Make sure whatever hospital bills she might have are taken care of. And… I don’t know. Send them some money? Or something?” He couldn’t even think straight.

“Why don’t I arrange for the household bills to be taken care of and for a grocery delivery service?”

“Yes. That.” Was he slurring his words?

“Sebastian? Are you okay?”

He took a minute to answer. “How long do I wait? She sent me away and said she needed time. How much is that? I don’t know how to do this.” He must still be drunk if he was opening up like this. Craig had been with him for years, but they didn’t have personal conversations like this.

“That’s hard to say. Maybe you can find something to bring her back to you. Do you know what her passion is?”

“Painting. She’s fabulous at it, too.”

“Build her a studio. Fill it with all the best supplies. Make it a painter’s dream. Then let her use whenever she likes without having to go through you to get it. Let it be hers completely. Then see if she comes around.”

“Yeah. A studio…”

He ended the call and got to work. By the end of that week, he had new motivation and had managed to drink much less. He’d hired an architect and consulted with several artists. He’d even shown one painter Amelia’s work and had gotten her a possible spot in an art show next month. If she was ready for that. The studio was located on a corner of his property where she could access it on her own. Construction was well underway, and it would be finished soon.

When everything was done a few weeks later, he put the studio key on an expensive sterling silver keychain and drove to her mother’s house. He stopped to get flowers, then knocked on the door with a nervous heart. She couldn’t turn him down again, could she?

When the door opened, it was her. She looked more beautiful than ever. She seemed happy again, herself again. He broke into a wide smile.