He was right. She was relaxing into the rising heat as they pulled into the parking lot of an enormous warehouse. Several large bronze sculptures stood outside, as well as other metal works, many simply sitting here with little fanfare—perhaps on their way to somewhere else. After she got out, she paused before an abstract piece of swirling metal shards linked together and swooping from left to right in a way that suggested movement. The sign at the foot of the sculpture said “Rocky Mountain Wind,” which was precisely what it reminded her of. Stuart joined her, smiling.

“My friend Jonathan’s piece. It’s beautiful, isn’t it?”

“It really is. It’s really incredible how many talented artists live in this little town.”

He cocked an eyebrow. “Oh?”

She laughed. “I don’t mean to sound like a snob—it’s surprising, is all. I mean, who’s heard of this city? You hear fine art, you think New York, Paris, not Loveland, Colorado. No offense.”

He continued to stare at her, one eyebrow raised, and then he laughed. “I’m sorry. I’m just giving you a hard time. Of course it’s surprising. That’s part of the charm, I think. People in cities get so used to being the epicenter of the world. But actually, talented, lovely people exist everywhere you go. And small towns can really surprise you.”

“I guess you’re right.”

She followed him inside, more surprised by what he’d said than she let on. They’d spent their teen years complaining about their small town almost endlessly, both desperate to escape. Then, once in the city, Stuart had really dived into gay New York life. He’d been more of a New Yorker than she was, really. He explored more, knew more cool hotspots to hang out, and had lived in various, hip places all over Manhattan and Brooklyn. She wouldn’t know half the venues she frequented without his introduction to them.

When he’d lived there, he’d seemed to love it. And now here he was, waxing poetic about small-town life. It was a complete and entire reversal. She’d certainly known he thought this way now, at least to some extent, as he was clearly happy here, but hearing him say it was another thing entirely. It made her suddenly melancholy about losing him all over again. Some part of her had always hoped he’d come home, and she understood now that it would never happen.