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turned without a word and started collecting her stuff from around his place, but he was sure she’d be back. When hours and then days passed without a word from Maggie, he’d taken that as a sign that they were well and truly done.
    That made him a free agent, he figured, and so off he went, picking up and screwing whoever he wanted. No hiding it anymore; no sneaking around. At the time, it had felt liberating, and – unbelievably – he’d actually felt smug and virtuous in his newfound transparency. It had been a relief to just fuck women openly and without apology, and he didn’t even miss Maggie. Not at first, at any rate.
    He walked in to her warm, open-space studio now and looked around. Yeah, it was much like he remembered it, with huge windows, lots of tables scattered around with tools, materials, sketches, books. Glorious chaos, and despite her usual preference for control and organization, it was how she worked best.
    The sketches were all taped up on one of her exposed-brick walls, and she stood in front of them, glancing over her shoulder at him with impatience. He felt her irritation at having him here, in the place where she felt happiest and most creative, and the sudden urge to apologize for intruding overwhelmed him. Then he remembered that he was the client, and he had the right to be here, looking at her work.
    Whatever happened between us, this is business. So treat it like that. God knows, she is.
    “OK,” he said, his voice crisp. “Let’s see the sketches you’ve done.”
    “Fine,” she responded in the exact same tone. “Take your time.”
    Joe stalked over to them, and within seconds, his resolve to be detached was in tatters. He’d never forgotten just how good Maggie was at this, but it caught him by surprise, every single time, at how easily she could surprise him. Her passion, her strength, her sheer talent never ceased to amaze and astound.
    He stood there, awed by the preliminary work. It was inconceivable that he had to choose four sketches of these ten; how the hell was he going to do that? He wanted every single dancing water and cloud spirit that he saw up on the wall. He wanted them in his new restaurant, in his old restaurant, in his home. It would be nothing short of an honor to be surrounded by such stunning beauty all the time.
    “So,” Maggie said. “What do you think?”
    “They’re great, Maggie,” he said. “I mean – perfect.”
    She was startled at his praise, but hid it well. “Oh, good.”
    “Yeah. I don’t quite see how I’ll choose only four.”
    “Well, I’ll go sit over here and do some work, then, and leave you to it. Let me know when you’ve made up your mind.”
    Joe watched as she went to the other side of the room, sat at a table with her back to him. Her indifference was a chill that he felt even from twenty feet away, and he closed his eyes for a few seconds, cursing his younger self. What he wouldn’t give to be able to go back two years and yank the moron that he had been away from the blonde when she rubbed herself against his cock in the kitchen.
    He’d tell his idiot self to push her away and just go home and wait for Maggie. He’d kick his dickhead ass up between his shoulder blades for pulling the blonde close, kissing her, stripping her almost naked in his living room before fucking her in the bed he shared with Maggie. He’d do so many things differently, if he could just have the chance.
    But there was nothing to be done, not anymore. So instead, he turned his attention to the gorgeous sketches, and tried to focus. This was important and he couldn’t leave here until he’d made his choice. Maggie needed to get to work as soon as possible, and he needed to get to the restaurant and deal with eleven-million things. They both just had to get on with life, as it was now. Whether he liked it or not.
    **
    Joe left almost two hours later, after choosing four sketches and suggesting changes based on some of the other ones. Maggie