Page 17 of The Sting of Love
I’ve just been a blank slate. A void.
Today, I’m doing what I’m doing to try to take my mind off last night and a man I can’t have.
I got back a little while ago. Since Lurlene wasn’t here, I went to my room, got out my painting equipment, and grabbed a canvas. I came out to the back garden, where I decided to get lost in my work.
I need it now because it’s a new day and I have the same old problems from yesterday looming over me.
Things are not okay. They’re far from it, and I don’t know what to do.
I know I can’t just stay in Italy either. It wouldn’t be right. I’d just be draining Lurlene, and I’m sure she likes her privacy even though she seems to enjoy having me here. The last thing I want to be is a burden on anyone.
Honestly, this was perhaps the worst time to go on vacation, even for an escape break. The adult thing to do was to stay and sort out the shit. I just didn’t know William would strike and hit me harder.
The adult thing to do is to fly back to LA and get my stuff sorted out. I have over two hundred paintings in that gallery. Some on display, others in storage I use for my shows. There were some with orders in them for sale and all sorts of equipment I had stored away so I could have everything in one place. Most of all, my personal space/ studio there is like my little sanctuary where all my ideas were born.
William basically clipped my wings. That’s why everything I’m doing lacks emotion.
Of course, that’s everything except last night.
My damn cheeks burn again from the memory, and I reach for the glass of ice water I brought out here. Most of the ice has melted in the heat, but it still does the job of cooling me down.
Being sensible is the key thing to remember here. I have to be sensible and push aside anything that can drag me further into the hole I’m already in. The goal is to get out of the hole, not make it deeper and fall further in. So far in I can’t crawl back out.
So, in regard to Donny, I just have to forget. That’s all I have to do. Last night was hot like hell and off-the-charts sexy and amazing, but then there was the gun. No good thoughts have ever come from the sight of a gun. It signifies danger. A dangerous man.
That should be enough to repel me. It’s my raw desperation that’s getting the better of me, and admittedly, it was nice having the attention from a man like that.
I haven’t dated since William, and Donny is the first man I’ve been with in five and a half years who wasn’t William. It’s probably understandable that I’m needy, and since I’m on the brink of insanity, I think that might be a factor too.
I turn when footsteps sound behind me on the pavement.
Lurlene walks toward me with a tray of cookies and fresh lemonade. She’s smiling, but there’s worry in her eyes. She’s dressed up like she’s going out again on one of her dates, and the flick in her hair is a tell that she probably spent the morning at the salon.
“Hi, sugar,” she says.
I’m always comforted by her southern accent. Mom hates it and tries her best to speak in even tones so she can check herself, although she has a little bit of a twang when she argues. It all comes out then.
“Hi,” I reply and shuffle around on my seat to face her.
She pulls up one of the little chairs and sits next to me, setting the tray down on the wicker garden table.
“Thought you might like these,” she says, waving her hand over the assortment of pastries. “I stopped by the restaurant and picked them up. I’m hoping they’ll cheer you up in some small way.”
“Thank you. I appreciate it a lot.” I nod and pick up a croissant.
She made all these herself. Her restaurant is one of the best on the beach, and she’s just picked up an award for it.
“I know you do.”
“You going out?” I ask, looking her over with a little smile.
She chuckles. “You know I am. It’s Sunday. Lunch date day.”
I laugh. She has lunch dates with the guys she might be serious about on Sundays. That’s often date number two or three. She says it’s a more of a get-to-know-you date. It’s then that her potential suitors get to know she was Miss USA 1999, and about La Rosa, her restaurant.
“What about you?” she adds. “How are you after yesterday?”
The laughter fades away in my throat, and I raise my shoulders into a shrug. “I don’t know what to say, Lurlene. I got two bombs dropped on me in one.”
