Page 27 of Fresh Canvas
Heshrugged.
This time, I almost did slap him. I caught myself instead, slamming my forearm against the armrest and shaking with rage.
“Go jump off a bridge, Russo.”
He didn’t deign to look at me as he responded, “Die alone, Adams.”
The blonde interrupted with our drinks. “Here you go.” She plopped the soda on my tray and dropped a package of pretzels beside it. “And hereyougo.”
I rolled my eyes as the woman placed Val’s tea on his tray beside a napkin scrawled with her phone number. An imprint of a lipsticked kiss sat atop the black digits.
“Call me.” She winked.
I trained my glare on the headrest in front of me. If I met Val’s gaze for even a second, I feared I would sucker punch him. HR wouldn’t forgivethat, no matter how tired I was or how much he deserved it. Besides, losing custody of my son because I punched my co-worker in the face would have definitely been rock bottom.
So I tried to busy myself with my snacks, but even after ten minutes of trying, I still couldn’t open the bag with only my left hand.
The second I vacated the armrest was the one chance Val needed.
His elbow slammed so hard into the plastic, I hoped it would bruise. His upper arm accidentally brushed my shoulder, making my skin crawl. I needed to get away.Now.
After the seatbelt light turned off, I made my way to the aisle. Val winced as I stepped on his toes, though the slight twinge of triumph barely fazed me. In the privacy of the lockedbathroom, I let the hot tears of anger flow. Fear hung heavily in my chest.
Val had found the chink in my armor. My lonely life ahead didn’t only seem likely, but rather imminent. Despite it all, no amount of loneliness trumped the terror of the idea of falling in love again. And thanks to Russo, I’d been reminded that both options left me with a fated future of cats.
Blowing my nose, I stared at my reflection in the small mirror. My silver eyes were ringed with red, and so was my nose. Val didn’t know me. He wasn’t worthy of these tears. Flying at thirty thousand feet, I made a promise to myself.
Never again would I let Val Russo make me cry.
Settling back into my seat after a few more toe-crushing stomps, I withdrew a book from my purse. As I straightened up, Val’s gaze cut to mine for a moment, surprise flickering across his face. I knew I wasn’t a pretty crier—more like a mottled tomato—and I didnotneed him to remind me right now.
A full minute later, Val’s chest seemed to deflate with a long exhale. He picked up his tea and sipped it quietly, his arm returning to his side, though the armrest remained unoccupied.
Glancing curiously at him, I found a foreign expression stamped across his features.
Regret.
I don’t want your pity, Russo.
Ignoring the peace offering, I shifted as much as possible in the small space to face the plane window. The beautiful sunrise lighting the clouds ablaze did little to cheer me up. My eyes wandered aimlessly over the words in my book.
I knew, without a doubt, that I hated Val Russo.
eight
AMANTHA
Two weeks later, I crouched by the museum copy machine in my navy pencil skirt and glowered into the opening. The mock-up pamphlet about Felix Andreas had wrinkled, effectively staunching my prints. I maneuvered my fingers around the offender and tugged over and over again.
“I. Do. Not. Have. Time. For. This!”
On the last tug, the piece of paper tore in two. One jagged edge taunted me as its partner in crime stayed put. I huffed a strand of hair off my face. Blythe needed the mock-up for our meeting in less than twenty minutes.
The museum planned to celebrate the opening of Felix Andreas’ exhibition with a gala. Donors, patrons, and even social media influencers had been invited. Press from the Chicago Tribune would also be attending, covering the event for the paper.
If I wanted to get the mock-up before the meeting, I had to come up with a solution fast. I leaned against the machine and tried to think. Easier said than done when my brain still had PTSD from the conference in San Francisco.
Truth be told, the conference itself was wonderful. Beingsurrounded with the crackling energy of like-minded, passionate people had been rejuvenating, and I had learned so much.
