Chapter 2: Nothing Says I Love You Like Red Velvet CakeAfter the dust had settled at Split, I went upstairs to our home, to check up on Derek.
Inside our Old Port loft, I dropped the torture device people called a cell phone on the table by the door and tossed my shoes off. It smelled like Irish Spring soap in the air, so Derek was probably just coming out of the shower. Eager to see his face, I went looking for him, walking across the huge open space that was our living room, dining room and kitchen, knowing I’d find Der in the back room, where the light was best. That was where he’d set up his atelier. Passing the kitchen, I spotted the peanut butter and jelly sandwich he’d made for himself but hadn’t eaten.
Not a good sign. Was he having a bad day?
I found him in his sunny workshop,
