I Love My Secret (Nicole's Erotic Romance) Read Online Free PDF Page B

have
come over earlier,” he says, with that same warm smile I so appreciated when
Grant was being a bully.
    “We just got here. Oh, these are my girlfriends,
Amber and Jessica.” They wave from where they sit at the table.
    “Hi,” he says to them, “Danny. Nice to meet you.
The food is amazing here, isn’t it?”
    Jess nods and Amber says, “We’ve only been here
once, but we loved it,” and nods, too – all smiles and elven cuteness.
    Danny turns back to me. “Well, it was great
running into you. I was sorry you had to leave so early that night. Oh! Did you
sell the painting?”
    “What painting?” I ask, searching my memory. Oh,
shit. “Oh – the painting. I didn’t. The buyer didn’t show. He was coming
over from Williamsburg and the trains were off that night and he got frustrated.”
This is the problem with lying. It breeds more lies. Blech.
    “Well, next time. It was really good to see you.”
He gives me a warm hug again, which I hold and look at the brunette through the
window as I do it, just because I don’t like the look she’s giving me. He says
goodbye to the girls and leaves us there to talk about him.
    As soon as he’s out of earshot, I sit back down
and we all lower our heads and bring them in together to talk in a hushed
conspiratorial tone.
    Jess first. “He’s cute!”
    Amber next. “And he’s obviously into you.”
    Me last. “You think so? He is cute, isn’t he?”
    Them together. “Soooooo Cute. So cute.” Their
heads are both bobbing yes, like I should go grab him right now. I reach up and
push them together with mine for a head-hug.
    “I love you, guys.”
    When we separate, Jess asks me, “There wasn’t any
buyer for a painting was there?”
    “No, I used that as an excuse to escape Grant on
our last – and I do mean last – date.” I pick up the menu, even
though I already know what I’m getting. Why do I do that? I set it back down as
Amber looks at me.
    “I saw you do that once. Use an imaginary buyer
who wanted to see a painting, to get out of a place. You better not do that
with us.”
    I glance from one to the other of my very best
friends in the whole world. “Me? I’d never.”
    Just as the server comes up to finally take our
order and get our stomachs to stop growling, Jess balls up her napkin again and
throws it at my face, but I catch it. My dad wasn’t an accountant, after all.

 
 
 
    At His…Our… Studio
    Weeks Later

 
    I haven’t seen Michael in over a month. I’ve been
good… or he’s not been there when I’ve dropped by. It’s been too long, so
tonight something overcame me and I find myself standing outside the studio
door with the key in my hand. I let myself in and call up to him, “Michael?” No
answer. Walking up, I take a look around. I can see from the shine on the
confetti-like paint droplets below the easel, that they’re still wet.
    He was just here.
    I must have just missed him. Again, I won’t be able
to see his face, hear his voice, smell him.Even worse – like fate is teasing
me – one of the cream-colored
candles still glows with a low flame, the wax surrounding it disintegrated down
to an inch.
    “Michael?” Instantly I hope against hope that he
didn’t hear the longing. I heard it. But he’s not here, and only silence
bounces back. I should have called, told him I was coming. Maybe we could have worked
beside each other, talked… anything. A month is too long. I feel like I could
claw my eyes out.
    I pick up a blank canvas and prop it against a
wall. I lied to myself when I thought I was coming here to work, that it would
be better if he weren’t here so I could focus. It’s never better when he’s not
here.
    Lose him , Jason whispers in my memory. “Shut up, Jason.”
    I step over to get a look at what he was working
on and the second I see it, my breath catches from shock. He’s painted a woman
with her hair wild, her skin vibrant and dark, and an aura surrounding her. The
painting is