And another bedroom with a big bed flanked by two nightstands that each held a lamp but only one had a picture frame.

The camera moved closer.

It was a silver frame. A silver frame with a picture in it that I knew was taken in Las Vegas. The picture of a couple nestled in a web of crystals.

The words to the song started beating into my brain.

The video faded to black.

But the picture immediately faded back.

A deck.

A view.

A dawn.

A man’s bare feet, ankles and legs in pajama bottoms propped up on the top railing.

I knew those feet.

The camera pulled back.

He also had on a long-sleeved thermal.

His back was to me.

His hair was thick, dark and clipped its usual short.

His ocean blue eyes were turned from me.

Tock, tock, tock…José Gonzalez was speaking to me.

But it was Nick Sebring communicating to me.

I watched Nick’s profile as he took a sip of coffee and dawn came over the soft-topped mountains that were not Rockies.

He turned and looked over his shoulder right at the camera.

I drowned in blue.

The screen went black.

In desperation to get it back, my gaze shot to Nick’s brother.

He had his on me and his mouth open to speak.

He closed it as he looked into my eyes.

Then he gifted me with a miracle.

In the expanse of a breath, I watched hard dissolve, scars heal and light shine.

“Hurry, honey,” he whispered.

I didn’t even take the time to nod.

I turned on my foot, my robe rippling out behind me, I ran to my bedroom.

I was hopping up and down, awkwardly pulling on a pair of slacks when Sylvie hit the door to my closet.

“Here to help, babe. What do you need me to pack?” she asked.

I spared her only a glance.

She was no longer looking inscrutable.

She was looking like she was fighting against laughing.

I nearly fell over, tangled in my pants.

I righted myself and answered, “Nothing here I want.”

“Nick’s ready for you, Olivia, but he’s a guy. Not sure he’s got your brand of shampoo down. And heads up, he’s never gonna have your brand of shampoo down. We bitches gotta take care of that shit. Hell, you in his life, the man will forget his brand of shampoo. That’ll be up to you too.”

“Right,” I whispered, tearing off my robe, on a mission and not fully processing her impromptu relationship lesson. “Then please, if you will, until I can get to the store wherever Nick is, I’ll need you to pack my shampoo.”

I turned to the rails and yanked off the first blouse my hand hit.

I heard her muffled chuckle as she walked out.