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Iswallow hard.WhatamIdoing here, really?Puttingmy life on hold for what?AdreamIdidn’t knowIwas still holding on to?Onethat fell at the first hurdle.Ican’t even think aboutDevonright now without emotion choking me.Hedidn’t want me enough to fight for me.Thathurt sears, tracing fingers of pain over half-healed scars.Andknowing now what happened when we were teenagers only sharpens the pain.It’strue thatI’venever really felt more than friendship forBeau, butDevonhad no right to interfere.Itshould have been something forBeauand me to work through together.
Ipivot in place as the emptiness presses in on me.Thethought of making this situation permanent, of applying to art school inLAinstead of back home, withers and dies in that instant.Idon’t belong here.AndI’vewasted too much of my life over the last few years convincing myself that the menI’veopened my heart to have been in love with me in return.Iignored all the warning signs, believing ifIjust wanted it to work out enough, ifItried hard enough, it would.
I’mdone.I’mso done.
Igrab my laptop and search for flights.It’stoo late to get one tonight, butIbook myself on the first one out tomorrow morning.ThenIpack.WhileIcram my clothes into my suitcase,Ikeep an ear out forDevon, half wanting to have it out with him, half dreading the confrontation, knowing he’s been out withIsabelle.
ButneitherDevonnorBeauhas come home by the timeI’vefinished packing and ordered anUberto take me to the airport hotel.Aftertaking photos of all my paintings, just in case,Ipacked them in the packing boxesBeauandDevonhad so thoughtfully bought for me.
Allexcept the portrait ofDevonIfinished two nights ago.Ihold it up, staring at the dark and light, shadow and brightness, the blue of his eyes and the inkiness of his hair.Mythroat tightens.Itmight be the best paintingI’veever done and definitely deserves a place in my portfolio.ButIdon’t want it.Everybrush stroke is a shock of painful emotion, andIcan’t bear facing that every day.
ButIcan’t throw it away either.Instead,Iforce myself to go intoDevon’sbedroom and leave it propped against the headboard.Ifhe doesn’t want it, he can throw it out himself.WhileI’min there,Itry not to inhale the masculine scent of him that permeates the room.There’sno point torturing myself by breathing him in.I’mabout to leave, but turn back at the last minute, find a scrap of paper in my pocket and a pen on his dresser, and scribble a short note to him, whichIleave in front of the painting.
WhenIget the message that my driver is here,Ilook around the apartment one more time.Iwon’t miss it; it’s just a place, no matter how beautiful.ButIwill miss the wayIfelt.Atleast until a few days ago.Thefeeling of being desired and cherished.Beingloved.Evenif that last one had been a misconception on my part.
Itype out a quick text message toBeau, just so someone knows thatI’vegone.
AndthenItake one last deep breath and walk out the door.
ChapterThirty-One
Devon
Idrummy fingers against the tablecloth and survey the men and women wandering around the ballroom in expensive suits and dresses.
Whatthe hell amIdoing here?
WhenImade it home this evening, tired and drunk,Ibraced myself, expecting to be confronted byBeauandShae.ButIknew as soon asIwalked inside that the place was empty.Iwould have felt it ifShaewas there, her presence a warm shiver over my skin.Iknocked on her door, just in case, but there was no answer, nor any sign of her whenIstepped in to check.
Withoutanything else to do,Iwent back to drinking whileIwaited for someone to come home.ThelongerIsat there, the darker my thoughts became.Wherewere they?Werethey together?Thenhad come a knock on the door.I’djumped up, my heart spasming into my throat beforeIremembered that neitherBeaunorShaewould need to knock.
WhenIopened the door,Isabellewas standing there, an anxious expression on her pretty face.
“Hey,Devon, isBeauaround?”
“No, not sure where he is.”
“Oh.”Shelooked crestfallen.
Asantisocial asIfelt then,Iforced myself to be polite. “CanIhelp you with something?”
Sheraked her teeth over her bottom lip. “Well, maybe.Areyou busy?”
Isnorted. “Nope.”
Shefrowned at me, probably not used to me being so taciturn. “I’msupposed to be at this event tonight, andIhad a date lined up, but it fell through at the last minute, andIreally don’t want to go alone.Myex-boyfriend is going to be there, andIjust…”Sheshrugged. “Anyway,Iwas hopingBeaumight be available to come with me.Butif he’s not here and you’re not busy?”Shedidn’t flat-out ask, but the upward inflection at the end of her words made her intention clear.
Ilooked over my shoulder at the empty apartment.Whythe hell not?Otherwise,I’djust be sitting here waiting to hear how muchIscrewed up.Orto have a painful conversation withShaenow that she knew the truth.Probablybetter to brood in a social setting than sitting here drinking by myself.
Tenminutes later,Iwas changed, and we were outside waiting for our ride.
Isabellesurprised me by giving me a hug and looking up at me with a grin. “Thankyou so much for doing this,Devon.Ireally didn’t want to face my ex alone tonight.”
“Noproblem.You’redoing me a favor by getting me out of the house.”
“GladIcould help.”Sheunwrapped her arms from me, then shivered a little in the slightly cool fall breeze that fluttered past us.Herdress is strapless, soI’dput my arm around her to keep her warm until the car arrived.ThenIushered her in and slid in next to her.
Now, two hours later,I’mregretting my decision.There’stoo much noise, too much going on.Andas fun asIsabelleis, she isn’tShae, andIhave no interest in hanging out with the rest of these people.
