Lynn Osterkamp - Cleo Sims 03 - Too Many Secrets Read Online Free PDF

graduation, I was sure he planned to
propose. After all, the Flagstaff House is known as Boulder’s most romantic
restaurant, and widely acknowledged to be the best spot in town to pop the
question. And we’d been together for three years. I intended to bring up my
concerns that we were too young for marriage, that maybe we should wait a year
or so. But I also planned to say “yes” to his proposal, because I
knew we were destined to be together forever. I was floating on a joyous cloud
as we walked into the elegant restaurant in the foothills.
    Our table, next to a floor-to-ceiling window, gave us a
breathtaking view of the city of Boulder 6,000 feet below. A stunning sunset
matched my inner glow. I felt glamorous and grownup in my perfect little black
cocktail dress, cut and gracefully draped to mold to my figure. I had spent
more than I should have on it, but I wanted this night to be a magnificent
memory. As I looked at Pablo, my handsome lover, looking especially delicious
in a tie and jacket, I was in heaven.
    We drank wine and ate amazing food in celebration of our
newly minted fine arts degrees. We speculated about the acclaimed artists we
would become. The future stretched endlessly in front of us. Everything was
possible. When I look back now, it is with sadness for my naive former self who
loved and trusted in a way I have never done since. And sadness for Pablo who
had no idea of what I expected from him that night.
    Just as I finished the last bit of my dessert—a
chocolate torte I’ve never had a taste for since—Pablo took my hand in
his, gazed soulfully into my eyes, and said, “Cleo, I love you so much. I
hope you know how much I will always love you.”
    As I looked deeply into adorable brown eyes, I melted inside,
waiting for the proposal I knew was coming. Except it didn’t.
    Instead, he said, “But I need some time away from
Boulder, from everyone I know. I need to find myself as an artist and I can’t
do it here. I’m going to Mexico—to that artist’s community, San Miguel de
Allende.” His face lit up and he dropped my hands. “So many artists
live there. Galleries, art courses and workshops are everywhere. Diego Rivera
painted there. Can you believe it?”
    Shock nearly flattened me. All I could do was gasp out,
“Why do you have to leave?”
    He looked off out the window briefly, then turned back to me
with a determined look. “For a while now, I’ve been focused on creating
art that pleases others—like my teachers and judges of our student
shows,” he said. “But a lot of the fun has gone out of it for me. I
don’t know who I am as an artist anymore. My work doesn’t have the energy I
want it to, the energy of an artist freely exploring and creating.” His
voice gained intensity. “I need to reinvent myself as an artist, somewhere
where art is in the air, where I can live cheaply, where I can devote all my
time and energy to art.”
    Tears ran down my face. “Are you breaking up with
me?”
    “Cleo, I’d like to ask you to wait for me, but I won’t
ask that of you. I want you to be as free as I am to make whatever choices work
for you.”
    No way. I couldn’t accept that. I’d do whatever I had to do
to keep him. “Maybe I could go with you. I’m an artist, too. I could study
and learn there alongside you.”
    He shook his head no. “Much as I’d love to have you with
me, Cleo, it wouldn’t be fair to you, or to me to have you there. I need to
live a solitary existence so I can create without distraction. I have to be
able to follow whatever inspires me, to head off in a different direction any
day I choose to, without any obligations.”
    “So you are breaking up with me.” Now I felt anger
growing inside me. He was so full of himself. How could he set me up this way?
I didn’t want to explode and make a scene in the restaurant, so I gathered my
forces, stood up and said as calmly as I could manage, “Give me the keys.
I’ll wait in the car while you pay