Page 118 of Muddy Messy Love

Sated and boneless, I slump against the ottoman, and Cole slumps over me, our lungs scrambling for oxygen. I manage to catch my breath, but then a strange, twisted, oily sensation orbs low in my belly. It swells and rises past my stomach, strangling my heart on the way through. Then it hits my throat and explodes.

I catch the first loud sob in my hand and bury my face in the ottoman. My shoulders shake uncontrollably as tears patter to the leather. “I’m so sorry,” I say, mortified and confused.

Panicked, Cole pulls out of me and grips my shoulders. “Are you hurt? Did I hurt you?”

Unable to speak, I shake my head.

What the fuck is happening?

Oh God, am I that girl now? The weird, overemotional one who cries after she comes?

Just kill me.

Cole drags me onto his lap and tucks my head under his chin, pressing the side of my face to his heart. The tears continue to stream, mingling with the sweat sheened across his skin, but he simply waits and holds me, rocking us back and forth while I purge whatever the fuck this is. Buried pain. Repressed emotions.Grief.

Several long, cringeworthy minutes pass before I manage to calm down. I leave Cole’s chest to sit up in his lap, then dry my face with my fingers, too humiliated to dare look up. “Sorry. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

Everything, Avery Lee. Remember?

It was careless to forget.

Cole rubs between my shoulder blades. “Nothing is wrong with you, you hear me?”

Every muscle in my body recoils against that lie, and I huff a sad chuckle. Cole lifts my chin, forcing my eyes to his. He searches my face with knitted brows. “Nothing is wrong with you.” His tone verges on anger now, and I squirm, averting my gaze to stare at my bony knees.

“Well, I’ve done my best to hide those parts,” I say, hitching a shoulder.

Laughter booms through his chest. “Well, you did a lousy job. You hide nothing. You’re the woman who sculpts her feelings for the world to see. The one whose face conveys her every thought. From that cute scowl to those hyper-colour cheeks, to the kaleidoscope of little smiles with a hundred different meanings. Long story short, baby, you’d suck at poker.”

I huff again, but Cole skims his warm knuckles down my cheek. “Look at me, Angel.” I do, letting him read every uglysecret inside me. “Don’t tell me the woman I love is anything less than perfectly her or you’ll have me to contend with.”

My heart freezes a beat, then pirouettes through my rib cage, clearly finding sense before my head can. “You love me?”

“I don’t just love you, Ilikeyou. Have since the first moment I saw you sitting in that court foyer.”

My head spins. He likes me. He likes meandhe loves me. My heart dissolves into a glittery explosion of effervescent mush—the gooey kind—the Sunkist-and-sherbet kind—the I’ll-never-be-alone-again kind. A crooked smile tugs at my lips as tears of a different sort fill my eyes. I push Cole down onto his back, straddle his waist, and cup his stubbly cheeks, hovering my mouth an inch above his. I inhale his breath as he does mine. “I like you too. So, so, so much.”

He cocks an amused brow. “And…?”

I smirk. “And I might even love you, Mr. Benedict. But you knew that already. You know everything.”

“I know you,” he says, sweeping away the strands of hair hanging between us. Our chests kiss with every breath as gravity fills his expression. “And you areeverything.”

And just like that, I’m finally whole.

Twenty-Four

It turns out Mr.Spiral Notebook Man is a somebody: Jack Larson, esteemed art critic and blogger extraordinaire. And while Cole and I were still lost in each other’s orbits the morning after the show, he published a gushing review.

Traffic to my website then skyrocketed, my social media following tripled, and a stream of commission enquiries has flowed in ever since. I have work to do. The only drawback to selling out is having nothing left to sell. But that’s okay. The thought of endless studio time makes me buzz with glee.

I slip my phone into my satchel, climb the bullnose steps two at a time, and enter Benedict Kane. Today, the cloudless sky is a brilliant blue, spring kisses the air, and everyone bustling through Collins Street has a bounce in their step. Either that or the world’s new rosy hue is dazzling my perception.

Cole left my bed at the crack of dawn for an early meeting, but even the discarded bubble gum stuck to the tram’s seat had its charms today. It was pink and shaped like a unicorn. If that’snot a fortuitous sign on a Monday morning, I don’t know what is. Add that to the fact Mum’s actually been nicer to me since the show, and everything feels…right.

Chantel silently greets me with a smile, talking into her headset as I stride past the reception desk. I smile back, then resume looking ahead, only to spy a change of scenery in the distance. One that slows my steps to a halt and causes my heart to trip over itself.

Oh my God.

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