“What are they saying?” My ego gets the better of me, I have to know.
“Nothing but well wishes. Fans telling you how good you look… how happy you seem.” She looks up at me and smiles.
“Guess I’m good at faking it.”
“Guess you are.” As she turns away, I see a little sadness in her eyes, but she quickly covers it with a smile and starts packing the rest of the gear.
“Hey, Emily, come here.” She looks at me weirdly, but I wave her over. “Selfie time.” I give her a wink, then put my arm around her shoulders and hold out her cell and snap a picture of us.
“Don’t post that.”
“Why?” I look up from the picture on the phone.
“Women don’t want to see that.” My eyes narrow, and my eyebrows draw together. “On your social media,” she quickly adds.
“Oh, this isn’t going on my account. It’s going on yours.”
“What? No!” she screams, trying to grab her cell from me. But I’m so much taller than her, and my legs are so much longer eating up the grass as I run away while furiously typing up a status.
She eventually catches me and swipes the cell from my fingers making me laugh. “What did you do?” She scrolls through her pictures, her face giving away nothing. “Dreams do come true. Hanging out with my favorite artist in the world.” #livinglife #dreamscometrue #bestdayever #hotartist #hessingleladies,” she reads the words out loud. “Oh my God, you’re such an idiot.” She giggles as she lightly hits my arm.
“If I have to do it, so do you.” I raise a brow at her. “Show your dickhead of an ex that you’re not pining away for him either.”
A smirk crosses her face. “Brilliant plan. If he can take pictures of him and American Barbie on a romantic carriage ride around Central Park days after leaving me, then I can get my photo taken with a hot guy, right?” The words are out before she realizes what she’s said.
“A hot guy,” I repeat her words.
Emily stomps her feet and growls, walking away from me.
“You think I’m hot,” I tease her.
“Ego the size of Mount Everest much,” she calls back.
“It’s not the only big thing I have.”
She stops, turns slowly, and looks at me, raising her eyebrows.
Yes, I’m talking about my dick.
“I saw you checking it out this morning.” Emily’s face goes bright red, and she tries to sputter out an answer, but it gets caught in her throat. “It’s okay. I don’t mind if you look.”
“You can’t say those things to your assistant,” she tells me as I walk past her toward our bikes.
“And assistants shouldn’t be looking at their boss’ dicks either, but you don’t hear me complaining.”
More cursing and grumbling come from behind me as I put the picnic basket on my bike and tie it down. Emily refuses to look at me. She’s so flustered, her cheeks are pink, and her ears are bright red. I like that I have affected her so much. This isn’t how I thought my day would end up, but I’m glad it has. Getting out of the studio is exactly what I needed, and she knew it. A day not thinking about art, not thinking about anything other than good food and great company has put me in a happy mood.
Maybe I do need to get out more?
Explore the world around me again. Join the land of the living and stop living in the past.
When we finally get home, Emily goes straight to her room to take a bath. She’s exhausted from our bike ride, but I’m exhilarated. After a quick shower, I head down to my studio, and that’s when the devastation hits me again.
Fucking hell! What have I done?
I start cleaning up the studio. It’s a slow process, and it takes me hours until I have it back to some form of normality. A pile of rubbish now sits outside of the studio. I look around at the bare bones of the room, and in some strange way, it feels cathartic. The sunshine lips take pride of place in the middle of the studio for inspiration. The sunshine set amongst the darkness of my other paintings, the ones I didn’t fully destroy.
It’s late by the time I leave my sanctuary and slowly make my way through the gardens toward my home in the darkness. I take a moment to look up and see that it’s a full moon, the silvery ball set amongst the black sky. Tiny bubbles of inspiration pop beneath my skin as I continue walking with the light guiding me. I notice the balcony doors to Emily’s room are open, and I catch the movement behind them. I stop and look up as she walks out onto the balcony, her golden hair falling over her creamy shoulders. She’s dressed in a thin black singlet, and she looks so young, much younger than I think she is.
“No!” She raises her voice—her phone is to her ear. “I haven’t slept with him. It was just a kiss. It didn’t mean anything. He was drunk.”
I think she’s talking about me.
“He’s my boss.”
Yeah, she’s talking about me. I know I was drunk when I kissed her, but it just meant that my inhibitions were lowered, that the control I have around her wasn’t as strong. At night, I can’t forget about the kiss, but during the days, I have to. It’s not right, especially after today. We’re in a better place now, and I know I shouldn’t be eavesdropping on her conversation. I’ve done enough shit to hurt her since she’s started, but she’s talking loudly, and I’m just walking back to my room, so it’s not really my
