I watched him walk away until he disappeared, then closed the door and locked it. The second the click sounded, I leaned back against it, smiling so hard my face hurt. I bit my bottom lip and let myself swoon for a second like I was seventeen and stupid.
Then I inhaled deeply and forced myself to focus. My mother had sent a text fifteen minutes ago letting me know she was bringing the kids back soon. I pushed off the door and headed toward the kitchen to start breakfast.
That was when I saw the canvas. It was still on the floor in the dining room.
I froze, then started giggling uncontrollably.
It had taken us forever to shower off the red and blue paint, scrubbing and laughing and slipping against each other until the water ran clear.
I crouched down and really looked at it. There were smears of red and blue layered over skin-toned streaks. There was the outline of a hand pressed hard into one corner. I could see the faint curve of a breast, from when I was face down, ass up. There were drag marks where our bodies had shifted and moved. It looked intentional, raw, and alive.
I ran my fingers lightly over the dried paint.
Thiswas art. Not the kind I could hang in a gallery without explanation, but it was art all the same.
“I’m keeping you,” I whispered to the canvas.
As I stood up, something else caught my eye on the dining room table. It was a folder. I walked over and picked it up.“Rhythm Brooks Art, LLC” was printed across the front. My breath hitched while I opened it slowly.
Inside were articles of organization already filed, EIN confirmation, an operating agreement, bank account documents, and trademark paperwork for my brand name. There was even a draft contract template for commissions with my name listed as the sole owner.
Tears filled my eyes before I could stop them. He hadn’t just been sleeping with me. He hadn’t just been taking me on dates. He had been building something for me while I was distracted by how good he felt. He’d set up my business for me and ensured that I owned everything.
I sank into one of the dining chairs, holding the folder in my lap. My throat tightened as I ran my hand over my name printed on those documents.
And for the first time in my life, I felt like I wasn’t just surviving; I was becoming something I had always dreamed of.
As I swooned, there was a knock at the front door. I glanced at the clock and assumed it had to be my mother with the kids. I rushed down the hallway, grabbed a robe from the back of my bedroom chair, and slid it on before tying it tight around my waist.
“Coming!” I called out.
I swung the door open, still smiling, but the smile died instantly.
Kodi stood there, glaring at me with angry-dark eyes.
“What are you doing here?” I asked, with my hand still gripping the door.
He stepped inside without waiting for permission. “So, this how you movin’ now?”
I shut the door, groaning. “Kodi, not today.”
“Oh, not today?” he mocked. “You been ignoring my calls. You think you just too good now?”
“I told you I’m done with you.”
“Done?” He laughed dryly. “You got a little art show coming up and a news appearance last night, and now you done with me? You out here acting like you somebody. You think them people really care about your lil’ drawings?”
I felt the anger crawl up my neck. “You sound stupid.”
Before I could brace myself, his hand came out of nowhere. The slap cracked across my face so hard my ears rang. My body jerked backward. I stumbled into the dining room table and pain shot through my lower back before I hit the floor. The air left my lungs in one violent rush.
For a second, I couldn’t even breathe.
Kodi stood over me.
I froze.
I had never seen that look on his face before. His chest heaved. His jaw clenched. His fists opened and closed at his sides.
