Then I remembered the ID. Greg had made me bring it because the landlord needed to verify my identity before putting the studio keys in my hand.
“Ness, I’m so sorry,” I whispered. “I really thought…”
Vanessa squeezed my shoulders. I know.”
Greg’s hand found the small of my back, warm and steady, and he didn’t say anything at all.
“That one has a sticker!”
I reached out and laid my palm flat against the doorframe. The wood was cool, freshly painted, and it did not move. I let my eyes travel back up to the sign, and I read it aloud, softly, just to myself.
“Nora Studio.”
My name. On the door of a place that was actually mine.
Toby tugged my hand, dragging me toward the far wall.
“How soon can we open?”
“Mommy, look! That one has a sticker!”
Beside my painting of the river at dawn, a tiny red dot gleamed under the light.
