Page 95 of Fresh Canvas
I was heartbroken over Val. I truly loved him, regardless of how short our time was together. But surviving Ryan had taught me a lesson. For the first time, I believed I’d eventually survive this too.
Irushed toward the museum’s entrance, already late. The commute from the suburbs had taken much longer than I remembered. While it had been tempting for my sleep-deprivedbody to blow off work, I didn’t have that luxury. There was just too much to get done before Stirling’s soirée.
Rounding The Spiral, I went over my game plan. If I was forced to work with Val, I would have to revert. Rewind time. Pretend our relationship had never transpired in the first place. After all, didn’t I already have plenty of experience pretending it hadn’t?
I cursed the lack of caffeine in my blood, finding myself wishing for some from the last-resort pot in the break room.The thought made me nauseous, but there wasn’t even time to grab a cup before I stepped into our morning meeting.
Apologizing for my tardiness as I entered the boardroom, I dropped into my usual seat across from Val. The sleepless night combined with my dehydrated tear ducts produced a welcome numbing sensation in my chest when I looked at him. His chestnut gaze briefly met mine, a flicker of concern vanishing as soon as it appeared.
I knew I looked atrocious. What’s more, I didn’t care. This morning, shadowed circles had hung beneath my pale eyes in the bathroom mirror. I had refused to put on mascara, knowing it would only get hosed off by another unexpected crying fit.
Somewhere deep within, a part of me desperately wanted Val to explain himself. To apologize, beg for forgiveness, and shower me with kisses. But at the moment, I felt dead inside.
Maybe I should change my name to Morticia Addams…The thought made me snicker. I probably looked like a crazy person, but I couldn’t muster enough strength to care.
Leaving the boardroom, I checked my calendar. I had ten minutes before a meeting with the event designers on the second floor in the Bloomburg wing. It was much larger than the Vanderbilt hall, as Stirling’s sculptures would require more square footage.
Kate grabbed my arm, halting me with a worried look as I passed. “Amantha, are you okay?”
I addressed her with a hollow laugh and shrug. “Val ended things with me yesterday.” At the incensed look in her eye, Ifollowed with an immediate warning. “Don’tmurder him or make a scene. I’ll call you later, I promise.” I robotically strode past Val’s office without a second thought and onto The Spiral.
Sleep deprivation had become my savior.
A few hours later, I finally squeezed in a few minutes to stumble into the break room for coffee. Thankfully, the sludge had been replaced with a fresh pot, the bitter scent already energizing me. I was completely unaware of another person in the room until I startled at their movement.
“Oh! Hello,” I said, stumbling for words.
A tall, twenty-something man with tan skin stood beside the coffee station. The simple hunter green dress shirt he wore did nothing to camouflage his physique. The dude wasbuilt.
Everything about him screamed “cool.” Dangerous, even. Maybe it was the hint of the tattoo creeping out from his unbuttoned shirt collar. Maybe it was the subtle lift of his square chin when he acknowledged me.
His wavy black hair was long, almost brushing the edge of his shirt collar. He shook an inky wave out of his startling green eyes, his mouth lifting into the makings of a cocky grin.
Besides the fact that my heart had been dropped off a twelve-story balcony yesterday, this guy seemed much too young for me. But the prospect of making a new friend slightly lifted my spirits.
“Oh, sorry. Did you need this?” He raised the coffee pot in my direction.
I stumbled out of my stupor toward it. “Desperately.”
The handsome man took the liberty of pulling a disposable cup off the stack and offering it to me. He poured coffee into my cup as he introduced himself, speaking with a tone so rumbly and low, I could almost feel the vibrations.
“I’m Brandon Roberts. I don’t think I’ve met you yet.”
I opened a packet of cream, dumped it in, and placed a lid on top, all while mustering a small smile. “It’s nice to meet you. Thanks, by the way.” I let the caffeine blaze a trail from my lips to my stomach for a long moment.
“So, two first names, huh?" I said.
Brandon chuckled. “Never thought of it that way. Names are weird.”
You’re telling me.Offering a polite nod, I drank deeply, closed my eyes, and let my shoulders sag in relief.
“Long day already?” He quirked another dimpled grin, though sympathy lined his voice.
“You have no idea,” I said.
“Well then, I hope your day turns around.” Brandon leaned against the counter, crossed one shiny leather shoe over the other, and sipped his coffee in silence.
Realizing I hadn’t introduced myself, I held out a hand and said, “I’m Amantha Adams. I’m Blythe Barlow’s curation assistant.”
