Page 30 of Deacon

Even after all these years.

A pang of guilt hit me.

How messed up was I to yearn for my ex when married to someone else?

Was I too lost in nostalgia and romanticizing? Forgetting the bad and only remembering the good we shared?

‘How’s Ethiopia?’ Deacon drawled, his timbre breaking through my chaotic thoughts.

‘Wild, beautiful, savage and magnificent all at the same time. I’m getting the most amazing images, D.’

‘Of course you are, you’ve got the best eye I know of.’

‘Really, or are you full of shit?’

His opinion mattered too much to me.

‘You’re phenomenal, Ana, you know it, even when you’re fishing for compliments.’

‘Busted, I’m casting hard.’

Hell, I was needy for them too, given my husband, the man who was supposed to be my biggest cheerleader, was MIA.

Deacon chuckled, and I bit my lip, savoring the moment.

‘Keep safe out there. Goodnight, Ana.’

‘Goodnight, D, have fun.’

He was always ‘D’ to me when we got along, when he made me smile and made my heart fly.

Raff came back on the line.

‘Good night, Mum, love you.’

‘Love you more, Raff.’

I hung up with a pang of yearning and swelling affection for Raff, underscored by the peace Deacon always gave me, even when I was fractious.

It hit me how much he’d matured.

His gravitas and manhood were staggering, a constant reminder of the solid, magnetic force he’d become, and the quiet strength I was struggling to resist.

I needed to stop thinking of Deacon, so I sighed and tried Max.

The call rang four times before dropping straight to his voicemail.

Unavailable again.

The hell?

We’d spoken once in the last week, in Nashville, and not once since.

It was as if he was avoiding me.

He’d warned me, though, that he’d be hyper-focused and inaccessible while filming, but it also seemed he’d forgotten I existed.

Why wasn’t he calling me back when he was off camera?