Page 24 of When It Rains He Pours

Driving the tips of my fingers into my temples, I drew rough circles into the skin. Closing my eyes, I let out a nervous breath, and reached out for the phone. Dialing the first set of numbers, I pressed the receiver to my ear.

“Hi, I'm looking for Mr. Vangaurd.” Running my finger up and down the spiral binding, I plucked the thin metal coil. “Mr. Vangaurd, this is Glory, from Glory's Gallery. I'm calling you because I have some bad news. . .”

Resting the phone on the base, I checked off the last name on my list. I ended up with a mixed bag. Some of my customers were very understanding, others were sorry to hear about what happened, but wanted a refund anyway. And the select few gave me an ear full, demanding their money back as soon as possible.

It could have been worse.

Pushing the planner to the side, I spun in my chair and cupped my hands between my thighs. Staring blankly into my apartment, I let my eyes settle over everything and nothing at all.

I felt like a zombie, unsure of how to move my feet forward, not knowing which direction to step or if I even wanted to.

My stomach grumbled for food and my throat was dry as I swallowed from alcohol dehydration. Making my way into the kitchen, I poured myself a bowl of cereal and a glass of orange juice.

I felt strange. Everything felt strange. I didn't feel like me, not in the sense I was used to. I ate my food, but it had no flavor. I drank my juice, but I didn't taste the tartness of oranges.

Before yesterday, I felt everything. I could see colors in any object, I could smell and taste and feel inanimate objects as if they were alive.

But not today, not now.

It was as if the life had been sucked from not just me, but everything around me. The ceramic bowl pinged off the sink as I dropped it inside, and my brain instantly went to the image of Liam toasting the days ahead.

His smile, that dimple, the way his hair fell into his face and brushed his brows. The picture behind my eyes forced my heart to skip and made my body warm under the skin.

Damn it! I don't need this right now!

Holding the counter, my head dipped into my chest. I couldn't stay here, there was too much silence that allowed that man to steal my thoughts. Turning on my heels, I grabbed my tote and left.

There's no time to sit around. Shit needs to get done.

* * * *

Standing in the doorwayof my gallery, I felt the same feelings that I had the day before. And I felt stupid. My night with Liam did nothing to erase what happened. It didn't fix one fucking thing.

I should have stayed here in the first place.

Stepping over the debris, I made my way to the desk in the back of the room and dropped my bag on top. It didn't matter where I looked, all I could see was my life getting torn into shreds.

Doing a walk through of the back room, I felt like my heart had been ripped out and smashed on the floor all over again. I literally had nothing left. The walls were painted with splashes of color, lewd words and profanity were written all over the place.

Walking back to the front, my feet dragged, weighed down like I was wearing lead anchors.I can't do this. There's no way I'm ever going to come back from this.

Pulling out my phone, I started taking pictures so I had something to show the insurance company. At least I'd get something back to help put the pieces back together.

Every click of the button captured a screen shot of what I lost, a frozen keepsake of my life in ruins. Pulling a folder from my tote, I rummaged through and found the papers with my insurance company info on it.

Plugging the numbers into my phone, the ringing echoed in my ear. After the third ring, a computerized voice picked up and let me know that they had a large volume of calls and someone would be with me shortly.

Listening to the music, I looked over my shoulder. My cheeks went from pink to red as I spotted the lovely makeover that had been done to my sign.

Glory Hole. . . Real fucking funny, Asshole.

“Hello, Graham and Tobin Insurance, can I help you?”

“Hi, yes, my name is Glory Daniels, and I'm calling because I had a recent break-in and wanted to make a claim.”

I could hear the woman tapping against a keyboard as she said, “Sure, let's pull up your information. Can I have the address of the unit.”

After giving her the address, my birthday, my social, and the policy number, I heard her let out a soft sigh.

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