Semua Bab Falling For His Forsaken Wife: Bab 31 - Bab 40

Miguel arrived at seven sharp with grocery bags and a bottle of wine, looking nervous in a way that was both endearing and surprising. We had lived together for months, but this felt different. More intentional. More like the beginning of something new rather than the continuation of something old. "I bought ingredients for pasta primavera," he said, unpacking vegetables and fresh herbs in my small kitchen. "I hope that is okay." "It is perfect." I poured wine while he chopped vegetables, both of us dancing around the small space with surprising coordination. The apartment filled with the smell of garlic and olive oil, and for the first time since moving in, the space felt warm and lived-in rather than just functional. "Tell me about your day," Miguel said as he stirred the pasta. "Besides our coffee shop revelation, I mean." "I painted for four hours straight. Lost track of time

Two weeks later, I stood in front of my painting in the group show, watching strangers examine my work with genuine interest. The piece was called "Morning Light on Court Street" - a semi-abstract interpretation of the view from my apartment window, all golden hues and soft edges that somehow captured the feeling of waking up in my own space for the first time in years. "It has such an optimistic energy," I heard a woman say to her companion. "Like the artist is celebrating something." She was not wrong. The painting was a celebration - of independence, of possibility, of finally living my own life. "Emily, there you are!" Isabella appeared at my elbow with a champagne flute and a huge smile. "People are loving your piece. Three different collectors have asked about purchasing it." "Really?" "Really. One of them wants to commission a series based on this style." 

The acceptance email came on a Tuesday morning while I was having coffee and watching the sunrise through my apartment windows. Miguel was still asleep, but I had gotten into the habit of waking early to paint the changing light - a practice that would serve me well in Tuscany."Dear Ms. Carter and Mr. Reed," the email began, "We are delighted to inform you that your applications to the Tuscan Artists Residency Program have been accepted..."I must have made some kind of noise because Miguel appeared in the bedroom doorway, hair messy from sleep, looking concerned."Emily? What happened?""We got in," I said, staring at my laptop screen. "We got into the program.""Really?""Really. Six months in Italy, starting January fifteenth."Miguel crossed the room in three steps, lifting me out of my chair and spinning me around the small space."We are going to Italy!" he shouted, not caring that it was six in the morning and my neighbors might not appreciate the noise."We are going to Italy

The residency program was scheduled to end in two weeks, which meant Miguel and I needed to make decisions about what came next. Return to New York and resume our lives there, or find a way to extend our time in Italy."What if we stayed longer?" Miguel asked one evening as we sat on the terrace watching the sun set over the valley."How much longer?""Another six months. Maybe a year. Isabella knows someone with a studio space in Florence we could rent cheaply, and there are other residency programs we could apply to."The idea was both exciting and terrifying. Another six months in Italy meant more time to develop our art, more time in this beautiful place we had come to love. It also meant more time away from real life, from the gallery connections I had built in New York, from Mrs. Martinez and Sarah and the community I had created."What about your work?" I asked. "The galleries in New York that were interested in your sculptures?""They will still be interested in six months. Ma

Detective Morrison insisted I move out of my apartment temporarily. "Until we identify Vanessa's accomplice, you are not safe staying in a place where someone clearly has access."I ended up back at Sarah's house in Park Slope, sleeping in her guest room and trying to focus on Whitney preparation while looking over my shoulder constantly."This is ridiculous," I said to Sarah over breakfast three days after the threatening text. "I have paintings to prepare, interviews to do, an entire exhibition to plan. I cannot do any of that while hiding in your spare bedroom.""You also cannot do any of that if Vanessa's mysterious accomplice hurts you.""So what am I supposed to do? Put my entire life on hold because someone might be dangerous?"Sarah set down her coffee and looked at me seriously. "Emily, three months ago you were in Italy painting sunrises. Now you are back in New York preparing for the most important exhibition of your career while a criminal's accomplice is apparently watchi