“I’ve been traveling all over ever since. I spent more time in my Jeep and a tent than I did anywhere else. I have so many photos from all over the state; videos too. I was beginning to be regularly published in local papers and magazines. I was even in talks with a local channel to start a travel segment on a morning show.” I wanted to represent young women, especially young women of color, exploring the outdoors. It was going to start out on a monthly basis with the opportunity to grow from there. “That was going to be the start. I was going to use that tape to get me funding to expand my travels. I wanted to publish a book. I know, I know,” I say when I see the way his eyes narrow. “It was going to be a photography book though. What I love about photography is that while I take the pictures, everyone who looks at them sees something different. They create their own stories. But my ultimate goal was to get a show on the Travel Channel. I wanted to go off the beaten path, showcasing the lesser-known beauties. I’d sell my car, end my lease, and travel all over the place. Maybe one day, I’d build a little cabin off the grid in Colorado or even Alaska.”

“Alaska?” His eyebrows scrunch together and he looks adorably confused. “I thought you don’t love the cold.”

“I don’t like being in the cold.” I offer my very weak explanation. “I love looking at the snow and cold from inside someplace warm. I was going to use some of the money I got from signing my contract to go on an Alaskan cruise.”

“What happened to it?”

It’s an innocent question and I brought it up, so I can’t shut it down the way I want to. That month of my life is a period I want to block out for all eternity.

“Gran died.” I start fidgeting with edges of the fabric napkin draped across my lap. “I was supposed to go in and sign the contract on a Friday. She died that Wednesday. We pushed back the day I would go in, but then I found out about the Book Nook and you know the rest.”

I’ve thought about getting rid of all my old pictures more times than I can count. Besides the few framed prints I have hanging inside my house, I shipped the rest to my mom. It was too hard to keep them in my apartment; the beautiful story they once promised had turned into one of loss and heartbreak.

“But now . . .” His sentence dies off and he sets his nearly empty mug back on the table. When he looks back at me, knots form in my gut at the serious expression on his face. “What’s holding you back now?”