Tears of anger and frustration welled. “Because she’s my mother! Every man she married, except for my father and Charles, cheated on her, so she gets her revenge.” I dropped my hand, straightened my spine, and just said it. “Just so you know, I don’t expect anything from you.”
He stilled. Then his jaw hardened, his eyes morphing to chips of blue ice. “I can’t do this now. I have to go.”
He stalked off, left my things in the bedroom I used, came out, and headed for his room.
I trudged to my room, shut the door, and dropped on the bed, staring at my sandaled feet.
His footsteps sounded a moment later as he passed my door, and then they faded.
More tears blurred my eyes. I knew he had a meeting with his trainer and some other stuff to do, but it felt like he couldn’t wait to get away. I couldn’t blame him. If I were him, I would leave and never come back.
I did the only thing I could, what I spent years doing. First, it was my schoolwork or my drawings, and now, I opened my laptop and got out my tablet, hoping to lose myself in my work.
It was the growing shadows in the room and my strained eyes that had me finally lifting my head. I rubbed my dry eyes, then glanced at the drawings I’d done…God! Cooper would fire me on the spot for this mediocre interpretation. I was making a mess not only of my job but my life, too.
My thoughts rushed back to War.
Was he back? Probably.
The fact he hadn’t sought me out had a crater deepening inside me. And my humiliation burrowed deeper. I’d apologized, but he’d walked away.
Before the pain of rejection hit—because what else could it be?—I shut it off. I had Ila’s—
Oh, shit!
I scrambled for my cell on the bed. The screen lit up the time. 6:47.
If I didn’t get moving, I was going to be late!
Had it been anyone else, I would have called and canceled. I couldn’t do that to my best friend.
As if someone had triggered the energizer bunny, I shot off the bed, showered, and changed into a fitted, knee-length, strappy red dress with a low, square neckline. My damp hair I scraped back and fastened into a topknot, then I applied mascara and a nude lipstick.
My matching red heels on, I dabbed a little of my favorite perfume on my neck and wrists, and I was done. With my small evening purse in hand, I walked out to the living room, my heels tapping faintly on the marble floor.
War stood at the window wall, staring out at the bay. He turned, his gaze taking me in, in one sweep. Tall and built, he usually made anything he wore seem like he stepped out of the pages of a glamour mag. And now, in black dress pants and a charcoal gray button-down, he looked incredibly sexy. And so far out of my reach.
“Ready?” he asked, strolling closer.
I nodded, my throat too tight to speak.
He picked up his coat from the couch, put it on, and we left.
The silence between us grew.
In the cab we took to the gallery in Dogpatch, he sat close, but his hands remained fisted on his thighs, and the distance seemed to move us further apart.
Maybe this was it. He’d gotten his contract signed for the endorsement, and all should be okay for him. He didn’t need a fake girlfriend anymore. A pain I didn’t expect strangled the air in my lungs and squeezed my stomach, and I felt as if I would hurl. The interior of the cab closed in on me.
The moment the driver stopped, I scrambled out, gulping in massive amounts of air merged with exhaust fumes. A group of chatting people walked past, heading for the gallery.
War grasped my arm. “Charli—”
“Please, can we just attend the showing first?” I begged. I needed to breathe, needed to rebuild my walls again.
His mouth tightened, his indigo eyes like dark holes in the streetlights.
“War? Charli?” Ray called out, getting out of another cab and breaking our fatal conversation. War’s entire expression shut down.
