The next few days settled into a strange new rhythm. Mom left for another work trip just two days after I got home, promising she’d be back in a couple of weeks. That left Vincent and me alone in the big house most of the time.
He worked from home a lot as an architect, turning the sunlit room at the back into his office. I spent my days in the spare bedroom he had cleared out for me. He called it my studio. There was a big desk by the window, a new drawing tablet, good lighting, and even some reference books he’d picked up. No one had ever done something like that for me.
“You like it?” Vincent asked on the first morning, leaning against the doorframe. His broad shoulders filled the space, and his dark t-shirt stretched across his chest.
“It’s perfect,” I said quietly, running my finge
