The Art of My Life Read Online Free PDF Page A

he still-framed the moment when their fingers brushed against
each other.
    How had Cal captured the bond between
them in charcoal? A bond she wouldn’t resurrect. Couldn’t. She
stood and stepped behind the coffee table to absorb the picture as
a whole.
    Her arm clunked into Cal’s chest,
firing off an all-systems-alert to her body—like the touch Cal
depicted on paper. Her gaze flew to his, then darted away from the
raw plea in his eyes. “Sorry.”
    She stepped away from him and rubbed
the bare skin of her arm as if she could erase the softness of
Cal’s T-shirt, the warm, solid feel of his chest. She centered
herself in front of the last drawing.
    The picture communicated permanence in
their connection, the subjects’ surprise that the welding still
held. Well, Cal had gotten that wrong.
    She stared at the other two drawings,
willing her pulse to calm. How long had she been lost in the art?
Two minutes? Half-an-hour?
    She filled her lungs with oxygen and
faced Cal. “What do you want from me?”
    His eyes pleaded with her, but she
needed words.
    “ I brought the drawings…
to say I’m sorry for… for what I did to you.”
    “ I forgave you a long time
ago.” How could she not? It wasn’t his fault she fell in love with
him and ruined their friendship. She’d never make that mistake
again.
    “ Do we still have…?” His
hands waved between them, his eyes desperate to say what he
couldn’t articulate.
    How could she tell him they had
nothing left? He’d just stared at what looked like a memorial to
their relationship for who knew how long. She could tell him he was
a brilliant artist, and she happened to be lucky enough to have
some originals to hang on her wall. But he’d be hurt. He wasn’t
looking for an art critique. He’d exposed his heart and begged to
jump-start their friendship.
    While the sentiment was gratifying,
she’d be a masochist to agree. No, the relationship needed to stay
dead.
    If Daddy’s deleting her out of his
life when she was seven wasn’t enough to teach her to protect
herself, all she had to do was look at her mother. Thank God Mom
had a nursing degree when Daddy walked. But Daddy had left Mom’s
heart out in all weather, something that could only have been
prevented by trusting her heart to a safer person.
    Bachelor of Science in business.
Check. Owning her own company. Someday. She just wished she was one
of those women who didn’t need a man. But sex, if only momentarily,
filled her craving to be cherished, to be essential to another
person’s existence. When she married, it would be to a stable guy
who wouldn’t leave her for someone better. Or jail.
    But she couldn’t throw Cal’s good
intentions back in his face. Not today with his art filling her
living room.
    She motioned with her head toward the
breakfast bar. “Come on. I was just celebrating. Sit
down.”
    She plopped the Ben and Jerry’s
between them.
    Cal reached for the spoon and stopped.
He smiled into her eyes, and she knew he was remembering the last
time they celebrated with Chunky Monkey—the day he’d taken her to
get a pregnancy test that turned out negative. He took a bite and
stuck the spoon back into the ice cream.
    Aly smiled. It was a happy memory even
though she was ashamed of the almost-pregnancy. She slipped the
spoon into her mouth, thinking how weird it was that they’d shared
food and silverware for eight years when they’d never dated, much
less kissed. Her eyes strayed to his lips, and she shook herself
back to reality.
    She’d prepare a gentle
this-isn’t-going-to-work speech, make it as painless as possible,
and deliver it the next time she saw him. Her life depended on
it.
     

Chapter 3
     
    August 25
    Is it just me, or does the
grandeur of life sometimes sneak up on you? I was going along in my
same-old, same-old life when grandeur walked through my front door.
Beauty, emotion, depth of connection. Art.
    Aly at www.The-Art-Of-My-Life.blogspot.com
     
     
    Fish flung his