Page 131 of Yellow
“Chloe,” Faith said in that tone that meant:Don’t go there. “Those are just stories you’ve been telling yourself. It’s not true and you know it. Adam and you had great chemistry, I could tell.”
“Well, if you could tell that much, then tell me why he just left like he couldn’t care less about me.”
“Only Adam can explain that to you.”
I huffed out air. “Yet he hasn’t, has he?”
“Didn’t you block his number?”
“So? He could write me on Twitter or Facebook.”
“Somehow I doubt he has either.”
“Then he could contact you or Christian. He knows where Christian lives.”
“True. But maybe he doesn’t know you blocked him, and he has sent you a thousand text messages and thinks you’re ignoring him.”
“Iamignoring him.”
“Well, then, there you have it.”
I brushed my hair back and blew a tendril away from my eye. “Still, like I said, I’m not mad at him anymore. I’m just indifferent.”
Faith chuckled. “Sure you are.”
I wasn’t!
Because when a huge package arrived at my house the next day I burst into tears at the sight of Cia’s large painting of Adam and me.
It was masterful and so full of passion that I couldn’t take my eyes from it.
Like a woman determined to torture myself I had it brought to my bedroom and placed it against the wall. For hours that night I stared at Adam and me making out between the hood of a black limousine with a fender bender and a beat-up truck. I was in my golden glittery dress and he was in jeans and a cool black jacket that I recognized as the one he’d worn on New Years.
Cia certainly had an eye for details.
I can’t keep the painting, I thought.What future guy would agree to a large painting of me making out with another man?
No one.
But I can’t give it away either.
Not knowing what to do with the painting, I focused on something else entirely that was within my reach and picked up the folder on my nightstand with papers from my lawyers regarding my foundation. Quickly I signed the papers and lifted my gaze to the portrait with me and Adam kissing.
The longing inside made me groan, and I covered my face with my hands.
“Don’t do it,” I muttered in a low whisper, but the temptation was too big and I unblocked Adam’s number to call him up.
Although I sat perfectly still in the middle of my big bed my heart was racing, as if I were manically running around the room.
The phone rang once, and my mind was spinning
What should I say when he picks up?
Second ring.
Will he even pick up?
Third ring.
