“What I want to do is pick her up, tie her to my bed, and make her stay until she listens.”
“You do that and you had better have a way to justify lying to her because this cuts deep. She’s not good, Nick. You hurt her. You hurt her bad.”
“I know. And that guts me.”
“Get your ducks in a row and give her some time to process.”
“Right. Time. A barbaric form of torture.”
We end the call and I say “fuck you” to time and waiting. I text Faith:Your uncle set me up. It’s not what it seems. I love you. I want to marry you, Faith. Please talk to me.
I get an error message. She’s blocked me.
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
Faith
The first night without Nick…
I lay in Chris and Sara’s spare bedroom, staring at the ceiling, an invisible knife carving holes in my heart. I replay the conversation I had with Bill, and the implications. And then I replay the conversation with Nick, how sincere he sounded. God. I’m a fool. And he’s such a good liar. Everything he did felt real. We felt real.
I have no place to live. I need an apartment and clothes. I have no clothes. I don’t have a car. At Nick’s recommendation, I gave both of the cars to Kasey. Nick made me dependent on our life together. I roll to my side and tell myself not to cry. He’s not worth it. I don’t cry. I won’t cry for him. But somehow my cheeks are wet.
The first Monday and my first morning without Nick…
I wake up to coffee and Chris and Sara. Watching them together is both beautiful and salt in an open wound. An hour later, I arrive at Allure with Sara and wearing Sara’s jeans, my own boots, and her Allure t-shirt. We have interviews today for several staff members, and that means no time for self-pity. I dive in and get to work. By mid-morning, my new agent has sold every piece I had in the L.A. Forum for thirty thousand apiece. Even the painting of Nick, which kind of guts me, but it’s probably for the best. I have this instinctive urge to call and tell Nick, and that guts me. And so I don’t tell anyone, not even Sara. I refocus on what’s important. I have a great agent, a great job, and money, which is suddenly important, since I need new everything. It’s a relief. I call a realtor.
Come lunchtime, we’ve hired a receptionist to start on Monday and I already have two apartments to look at after work. At nearly four, Sara pokes her head into my office. “Delivery,” Sara says, setting a large envelope on my desk.
I stare at the handwriting on the front that is clearly Nick’s, and let out a breath. “Thank you.” I look up at her. “I’m looking at apartments tonight and going to buy some clothes.”
“Don’t feel rushed. I have clothes and we have the space.”
“I know you mean that, but I think I’m going to rent a hotel room until I find a place.”
“That’s not necessary. You know that.”
“I do. I really do but honestly, you and Chris are so damn wonderful together, I can’t take it. That sounds horrible. I’m sorry.”
“It sounds honest. Do you want me to go shopping with you?”
“No. Last night I needed you badly and you were there for me and I can’t thank you enough. Tonight, I need to be alone.”
“I can fully understand that, but if you change your mind, our door is open.”
“Thank you.”
She disappears in the hallway, and I stare at that envelope, my throat constricting. I throw it in the trash. I pull it back out. I throw it in the trash. Damn it, I pull it out and open it. Inside I find my favorite paintbrush with a note.
Faith:
I came to you looking for answers to questions I didn’t even know I needed to ask. I found those answers in you. Paint me. You’ll get your answers too because there is only one answer: Us.
I’m coming for you and I’m doing it with proof that I don’t want anything but you.
I love you,
Nick