Love Lost to Me

Chapter 4

Chapter 4

By the time I pulled into the driveway, the afternoon sun had settled high overhead. Home. I smiled to myself as I unlocked the front door, my thoughts already drifting to six o’clock. Just a few more hours. I slipped off my sandals, tossed my purse onto the entry table, and walked toward my studio. The familiar scent of paint, canvas, and linseed oil welcomed me like an old friend. A half-finished commissioned landscape sat on my easel exactly where I’d left it. I tied my apron around my waist and got to work. The next hour disappeared beneath careful brushstrokes and soft music playing from the speaker in the corner. Before I realized it, I was adding the final highlights across the distant mountains. I leaned back. Done. A smile spread across my face.

“Well… that’s earlier than expected.” The deadline wasn’t until next week. Normally, I’d celebrate by calling Ben. Instead, my eyes wandered across the studio until they landed on a blank canvas tucked against the wall. My smile softened. “I guess today’s the day.” I carried the canvas to my easel before opening the drawer that held my favorite charcoal pencils. I didn’t need a reference photo. I knew every inch of his face by heart. The first few lines came easily. His jaw. The bridge of his nose. The curve of his lips. Then I paused. His eyes. I always painted the eyes first. My art professor used to say they were the soul of every portrait. I disagreed. Eyes didn’t create the soul. They revealed it. I smiled to myself as the familiar hazel gaze slowly emerged beneath my brush. “No,” I murmured. “The left one needs more warmth.” I laughed quietly. Even after years together, I’d never quite figured out how to paint the way Ben looked at me. There was always so much love in his eyes. No color on earth seemed capable of capturing it.

Nearly an hour passed before I finally stepped away. The portrait wasn’t finished. Not even close. But it was enough to make me smile. “I’ll finish you tomorrow.” I set my brushes into the sink to soak before stretching my arms over my head. A wave of exhaustion hit me so suddenly I grabbed the edge of the counter. “Whoa…” I rubbed my eyes. “Okay, little bean,” I whispered, resting a hand against my stomach. “I hear you.” A warm bath sounded perfect.

The lavender bubbles had nearly swallowed the tub by the time I eased myself into the water. “Oh…” Every muscle in my body relaxed instantly. Maybe it was the pregnancy. Maybe it was the excitement of the day finally catching up to me. Either way, I didn’t fight it. I rested my head against the porcelain and closed my eyes. The corners of my mouth lifted. A baby. Our baby. I wondered whose eyes they’d have. Ben’s, I hoped. Maybe my curls. Definitely his patience. I laughed softly. Lord knew they weren’t getting that from me. For the first time in years, my future didn’t feel uncertain. It stretched out before me like a painting waiting to be finished. A husband who adored me. A home I loved. A career that fulfilled me. A baby growing beneath my heart. For someone who’d spent half her childhood wondering where she’d sleep each night… It almost felt too good to be true.

Steam still lingered in the bathroom as I stood before the mirror fastening the diamond necklace around my neck. The black gown fit perfectly. Like it had been made for me. The fabric skimmed my curves before falling effortlessly to the floor. I slipped into a pair of heels before fastening the matching earrings. One last look. I barely recognized the woman staring back. Gone was the frightened little girl foster families kept passing over. In her place stood a wife. An artist. A mother-to-be. A woman deeply loved. Tears pricked my eyes. “You’ve come a long way, Andi.” I smiled at my reflection before grabbing a light shawl from the closet. The grandfather clock downstairs chimed. Five-thirty. Perfect.

I made my way into the living room, smoothing my dress beneath me before sitting carefully on the sofa. No point wrinkling it before dinner. The house was quiet. Peaceful. I glanced toward the front windows every few minutes, expecting to see Ben’s SUV pull into the driveway. Nothing. I smiled. He was probably wrapping up an experiment. Science had never respected dinner reservations. I picked up my phone. No new messages. Probably too busy to text. He’d be here any minute. I rested one hand over my stomach. “You’ve already made today unforgettable,” I whispered. Outside, the breeze stirred the trees. Inside, the ticking clock echoed softly through the house. Five forty-five. Still no headlights. My eyelids suddenly felt… Heavy. Ridiculously heavy. I yawned. “I’ll just… rest my eyes for a minute.” I leaned my head back against the sofa. Just until I heard the garage door. Just until Ben got home. The last thing I remembered… Was smiling.

A sharp gasp escaped my lips as my eyes flew open. Darkness. For a second I didn’t know where I was. Then the grandfather clock began chiming. One… Two… Three… Four… Five… Six… Seven… Eight… My heart lurched. Eight? I sat bolt upright. The room was illuminated only by the porch light spilling through the front windows. The house was silent. Too silent. I looked toward the front door. Still closed. No footsteps. No keys jingling. No voice calling out, “Baby? You ready?” My smile faded. I grabbed my phone from the coffee table. No missed calls. No texts. A knot tightened low in my stomach. I immediately tapped Ben’s name. The phone rang. Once. Twice. Three times. Then… Voicemail. I frowned. “Hey, babe,” I said after the beep, forcing a laugh. “I guess I accidentally fell asleep waiting on you. Call me when you get this… okay?” I hung up. “It’s fine,” I whispered to the empty room. “He probably just got caught up at work.” But for the first time that day… the silence felt wrong.