Waiting for You

W
AITING
FOR
Y
OU

B
Y

H
EATHER
H
UFFMAN

To the amazing and dedicated group of readers lovingly dubbed “Team Heather.” Over the years you’ve gone from being readers to friends.

I thank God for each of you; you’ve brightened my life more than you know.

IN 52 DAYS,
Karise McAlister would be changing her name. In her
mind, it couldn’t come quickly enough. She wasn’t a McAlister, not
really. She had no claim to the name other than it happened to be the
one her mother was sporting when Karise had been born. Her surname
served as a perpetual reminder that she didn’t quite fit anywhere, so
while most brides-to-be would be counting down to their day in white,
Karise was eagerly anticipating being forever free from the McAlister
chains. Karise Addison, on the other hand, had a nice ring to it. Better
still, it carried with it an air of respectability.

She turned from the CAD drawing on her computer screen to look
out the floor-to-ceiling window she was lucky enough to have in her
tiny office. Her eyes ached from staring at blueprints, so the Boston
skyline was a welcome break. As she watched the Charles River wind
its way westward, she listened to the message on her voicemail once more before deleting it.

Her half-brother, Devon McAlister, was in town on business and
wanted to meet her for lunch. Devon was a good man and if she were
a better person, she’d give in to such a simple request without a second
thought. Spending time with him didn’t do much to help her forget
the whole McAlister bit, though. As tempting as it was to ignore the
call, she couldn’t bring herself to do it. Devon had been too good to
her. She’d be a total and incomprehensible jerk if she blew him off – especially since he lived half a world away, too far to put her at risk of being smothered. Karise pursed her lips and scowled at her phone before relenting and sending a quick text to set up a lunch date with her big brother. At least her half-sister Alex lived on a remote island in the Pacific Ocean. She was too busy to keep trying to reach out to Karise. After a couple failed attempts ages ago, she’d given up.

You are such a hateful heifer
, Karise admonished herself. No matter
how much she loathed herself for it, though, she couldn’t look her
siblings in the eye without feeling like her existence tore their world
apart. How could they not resent her for that, even just a little deep
down inside?

Her fiancé, William, poked his head in her office. “Are you just about ready, love?”

Karise shifted her attention from her phone. “Be right there.”

“You do remember we have that art show tonight?” His stern
expression left Karise with the feeling he already knew the answer.
Even if he was right, it irritated her.

“Of course I remember,” she lied. “Did you remember promising Dayton Corp I’d have the latest plans over to them by Monday?”

“It’s an office building, Karise. Stop trying to create perfection and
get it out the door.”

“
Are you
seriously
telling me to
send
the client
something
slapped together?”

William looked torn between answering honestly and what he
knew to be the right answer. “I respect your attention to detail. I do.”

She let it drop, knowing she had a choice between making her point
and getting ready for the charity event they were already late for. “Just
give me a minute to wrap up. Promise. Do we have time to swing by
the apartment or do I have to go out with your friends in my work
clothes?”

“You look lovely.”

“Please?”

William sighed. Karise knew by the tone of the sigh she’d won,
but just barely, so she scrambled to get her desk in a state she could
bear to leave it in. Within five minutes, she was scurrying to keep up with William’s long strides. It was the downside to marrying a man
a full foot taller than oneself: She was forever struggling to keep up
with him simply because his legs covered so much more distance than
her own.

As William maneuvered his Lexus ES down Cambridge Street,
Karise
caught her
breath
and d
ebated
what she would wear. She didn’t
want it to look like she was trying too hard, even if that’s exactly what
she was doing. She’d spent the past decade or so chasing success; that
hadn’t left much time for friendship. If she became any more of a recluse,
she’d
have to
leave
her
cheery
apartment
in
search of a cave somewhere
.

By the time they’d reached the nondescript brown building across
from
Boston
Common that
housed
said apartment,
Karise
had narrowed
her dress selection to two.

When it came down to it, though, she wound up picking her favorite
pair
of black
slacks
. The
buttery
soft
materia
l was
ridiculously comfortable
and the tuxedo cut made them dressy enough for her to get away with.
Besides, she loved the wide black sash belt. It lent an indulgent flare to the ensemble. She opted for a tailored white shirt and her favorite
strappy black heels – she was a sucker for strappy heels. Her hair clip
had barely contained its charge all day; now she released her tresses
from their bonds and shook them out, running her fingers through the
loose curls in an attempt to create some semblance of order.

“Almost ready?” William reached past her to snag the cuff links sitting in a bowl on the bathroom counter.

“So ridiculously close. I promise.”

“You’re
breathtaking
.” He stopped fiddling with his
sleeves,
leaning
over to brush a kiss against her temple. “And I promise I’m not just
saying that to get you out the door.”

Karise closed her eyes and leaned into his touch, taking a deep
breath and wrapping her arms around him. “We could just stay home.
You look like a present waiting to be unwrapped, you know.”

“That sounds delightful,” he murmured against her skin before
straightening and holding her at arm’s length. “But our friends are
expecting us and I paid an absurd amount of money to go look at this
man’s pictures.”

“It’s not an absurd amount of money considering the exhibition
is for charity and Gavin Nichols is an excellent photographer.” Karise
tucked away the sting of rejection, admitting to herself that William was
right; they had obligations and it would be rude to blow them off.

By the time they entered the trendy gallery on Newbury Street, they
were the last of the group to arrive. Karise didn’t mind too terribly;
William’s friends were nice people, but she always felt like the odd duck in their presence. Still, they were important to William and he was important to her, so she smiled and chatted and did her best to fit in with the little clique.

Karise kind of wondered if they weren’t as uncomfortable around
her as she them because nobody seemed to notice much when she
dropped out of the conversation, wandering off to get a better look
at the photographs lining the walls. Many of the prints were urban,
fascinating studies in the paradox between manmade and the natural.
Per usual, Karise was drawn to architecture. She could spend hours
looking at the gracefully sweeping lines of the more ornate buildings.
Something akin to longing stirred in her soul and she wondered what
it would be like to create a building that beautiful.

Some of the landmarks she recognized as places in San Francisco;
others were notably set in London. Karise didn’t know much about
Gavin Nichols, but she remembered reading he spent most of his time
divided between the two cities.

She came across a particular shot of a homeless man with so much
depth in his eyes, Karise found herself completely captivated by them.
She wondered how much convincing it would take for William to mar
his meticulously decorated apartment with a photograph of such stark
humanity. Maybe she’d buy one of the prints to hang in her office.

“
What do you think of it?” a stranger standing next to Karise asked,
his voice giving away his British heritage.

“Don’t answer that,” the redhead at his arm told her. “Gavin has
a bad habit of asking people’s opinions of his work without divulging
his identity.”

“That’s one way to get an honest opinion.” Karise had to give him
credit.

“But it’s horrifying for the poor person who calls one of the pieces
pretentious,” the redhead countered.

A smile tugged at Karise’s mouth. “Which piece did you call
pretentious?”

“It’s no longer part of the collection.” Gavin chuckled softly. “She
was right about it.”

“Happily, my answer is the same now as it was before I learned
your identity: These pictures are amazing. I’m envious of your talent.”