Page 45 of Back to Me

CHAPTER TWELVE

GRAHAM

I hold out my hand, waiting for the man behind the checkout window to give me my change. Feeling the coins drop into my palm, I send him a slight nod and walk over to a small picnic table sitting under a large oak tree in the middle of the park. The park is littered with at least twenty food trucks. Sitting down on the picnic bench, I grin, breathing in the savory scent of my pork belly tacos. The shade from the branches hanging over the picnic table is a refreshing relief from the hot Texas sun beating down on me. The skin on the back of my neck beads with sweat, and I’m thankful to find the best spot to sit down and eat my lunch.

Pinching the taco closed with both hands, I lift it to my mouth, taking a giant first bite. Sighing, I gaze out at the park, watching people walk up and down the sidewalks, carving a pathway through the green-brown grass. Quickly finishing my first bite, I swallow and take another bite before sliding my phone out from the front pocket of my jeans.

Opening my thread of texts with Sara, I stare at the last text I sent, promising her I would be there for her no matter how today would turn out. I texted her again, letting her know I would be going to my favorite place to eat lunch. In tiny font, the word “read” is displayed beneath my message, indicating Sara has seen my texts. She just hasn’t responded.

I haven’t spoken to Sara since she left this morning, but I half expected it, considering what she was doing today. I just hope it went better than I’ve imagined in my head.

After I finish eating, I stay seated on the bench, relishing my last few moments of relief from the scorching summer sun. The sun has lowered since I first sat down, but the leaves decorating the long branches above still shelter me from the intense heat.

I’m about to leave when I see Sara approaching me from the far end of the park, near the rows of food trucks. She’s holding a giant salted pretzel between her delicate fingers, her face void of any emotion. She doesn’t appear to be upset, but not happy either. Her long blonde hair drifts across her shoulders, revealing the soft lines of her cheekbones with every step she takes.

The closer she walks toward me, the tighter my chest constricts and the deeper I hold my breath.

She reaches my table and slides next to me without a word. The only reaction I get is a gentle nudge to my shoulder before she rips off a piece of her pretzel, shoving it into her still perfectly painted lips. Grinning to myself, I stare at her, taking in her beauty as the shadows from the leaves hanging overhead dance across her face. Still chewing, her shoulders rise and fall with a heavy sigh. I want to ask her how it went, how Allison took her submitting her resignation letter. Instead, I silently admire the woman I’m able to call mine. We sit in content silence until she finishes chewing her first bite and tears off another piece of her fluffy pretzel. Her eyes are still focused on the park when she finally decides to speak. My skin tingles and the hair on the back of my neck stands on end, preparing myself for what she might say.

“Do you ever feel like because you didn’t finish college, it’s been harder for you to get where you want to go with your career?” she calmly asks.

Her question catches me off guard. Resting my elbows onto the table, I lean forward and narrow my eyes at the landscape, thinking of how to answer her.

She doesn’t give me a chance to respond before she adds, “I’m sorry if it’s a weird question. It’s just sometimes I feel like all those years of school were a waste. Like it didn’t matter whether I earned a degree or not.”

Clearing my throat, I rest my arms on the table. “I definitely think it would have been easier for me if I had gone to school and finished.”

Turning toward me, her eyebrows knit together as her emerald eyes shine against the sun. “Really, you think so?”

“I think about it all the time. I mean, look at me.” I reach out and place the palm of my hand against the smooth, warm skin of her knee, my eyes searching hers. “For years I struggled, working one odd, meaningless job to the next.”

“Yeah, but you’ve sold your paintings on the side. Didn’t you say you made good money doing that? Plus, you have this exhibit with the museum.” Her eyes plead with me, hoping I can grant her the resolve and answer she’s looking for.

Shaking my head, I humorlessly laugh under my breath, disbelief brewing beneath me.

“Sara, just because I’ve been able to sell some of my artwork on the side, doesn’t mean it’s been easy. And do you think if I had simply walked into the museum and shown them my portfolio they would have hired me? Probably not. I only got this job at the museum for two reasons—your persistence and a stroke of dumb luck. I’ve had to work very hard to get where I am which is still nowhere close to what you’ve been able to achieve.”

She swiftly turns away from me, unsatisfied with my answer and with me.

“Sure, because I’ve turned out to be a such a huge success.” Her sarcasm stings and burns me, but despite her bitterness and sudden need to talk about our different career paths, I know this has something to do with what happened with Allison.

Several moments pass in utter silence. My throat constricts, the hot air between us swelling with every passing second. Still guarded, I tread carefully and choose my words wisely, hoping they won’t send us into some kind of battle on who in this relationship is the biggest failure in terms of their career.

“Sara, please tell me what happened.” Holding my breath, she finally turns to me, her eyes glassy with tears threatening to spill.

“It was all a lie,” she whispers.

Dipping my head, I search her eyes and run my hand along her arm, not understanding what she means. “What?”

“It was all a lie,” she repeats in a deeper, more pronounced tone.

“What was?”

“Allison. Her saying my art was below hers. Everything was a lie, Graham.”

“I don’t think I understand.”

“When I went to hand her my resignation letter,” she continues, “she wasn’t in her office. Instead, I found her up in her studio, working on one of her pieces.”

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