Page 9 of Endlessly Yours
“That didn’t happen,” I rumbled.
“The problem is…it did.”
And when one of the cleaning staff opened the door behind me, Rory practically shoved me out of the way and ran. And I stood with my back to the doorway, wondering what the hell I had just done.
CHAPTER TWO
RORY
How many penises did this Minotaur have? I shook my head and looked back at my notes, nodding that the author in question did indeed request two penises. Or was it penisi? I also marked down the title of the novel again, so I’d remember to read this book when it released because I wanted to know if a Minotaur ended up with new characters or maybe there was going to be a little fun later with both of them. Or maybe I really needed to step away from my drawing board and take a walk.
A smile playing on my face, I clicked through to my next request, making sure that my calendar was up to date. I was my own boss, and that meant sometimes I had to be malicious to myself in order to get things done.
It was funny to think that nearly five years ago, I had been working full-time for another company, drawing exactly what they told me to, stifling my creativity, and yet thirsting for more within that job sphere because that’s what I thought you needed to do. But as a digital graphic artist and illustrator, that meant sometimes I got to dive into drawings I would never have thought of. And it meant that I added to my TBR.
Next on my list was a drawing for another for a book box. They would use the character and setting art for numerous items, and readers would be happy. Then later in the day, my project was for the series that had allowed me to be self-employed.
A children’s series about a young boy, his goat friend, and raw apples that had saved the world.
I, of course, did that art under a different name because a website with both of those in my portfolio didn’t really go well for some clients.
My lips twitched, and I penciled off something else in my calendar, knowing that we might be on book thirteen in this children’s series, but the consultations for books fourteen and fifteen were coming up soon.
If I worked for a publisher or the author themselves, each timeline was different, but I didn’t mind. That just meant I could spend a little more time with my spreadsheets and calendars.
It was funny because most people thought since my job had mostly to do with art, that I had to be the ditzy woman who had to thrive in art and only focused on drawing. That none of the analytical side of my brain would be useful.
At least that’s what the one serious boyfriend I’d ever had had thought.
Even my sister had told me that a few times until we had both backed off and settled into our relationship. She had been the bright star, the logical mind who had thrived in math and science.
I had indeed been the artsy one who liked history and English, but I had been good at everything, at least good enough to get straight A’s just like her.
I rubbed my fist over my chest, wondering why I was thinking about Beth.
It had been at least a week since I had thought about my sister and the pain that came with the fact that I hadn’t spoken to her in six years.
I frowned as I looked at my calendar, at the color-coded projects lined up for the next few months.
Six years. That couldn’t be right. That meant it had been six years since I had laughed and joked with my big sister. No, that wasn’t even right. Because it had been long before that time since we had truly laughed with each other. And even though I called her my big sister, it was only because she had beaten me by three minutes.
My twin, the woman who was the other half of my soul, had cut me out of her life with a scalpel and had done the same for everyone else in her past life. Any connections to the world that weren’t from her husband’s influence had been shorn away without a backward glance.
She hadn’t even shown up for our parents’ funeral four years prior. I knew that the funeral company and hospital had contacted her, but she had ignored my calls and emails. And it wasn’t as if I even knew where she and her husband Nolan lived. Where the girls lived.
I got up from my desk and began to pace. Cameron would be what, twelve now? Alice, seven. I had barely even held Alice as an infant before she had been ripped from my arms by Nolan, the man overbearing and asshole-ish like usual.
I still didn’t know what my twin had seen in him, but she had fallen head over heels for Nolan Roberts and inch-by-inch had been turned into a person I hadn’t recognized.
I let out a shaky breath and tasted salt on my tongue.
“Damn it, Rory,” I growled at myself as I furiously wiped away my tears. I hadn’t even realized I was crying until the tears were down my cheeks, and here I was once again, trying to remember a woman who didn’t want me in her life. She hadn’t agreed with my lifestyle, a single woman who had sex before marriage and had even lived with a man for six months. Ben and I had been serious enough to live together but not serious enough to get married. I had bored him and had dealt with too much drama, according to him. Which, I always felt contradicted each other.
Either I could have too much drama, or I could be boring. I couldn’t be both.
Yet Ben had thought so. Because I had been boring in bed, boring when it came to my goals. Boring in my job. And dull and lackluster.
But far too much drama with my twin sister joining, not necessarily a cult, but something so cult-like that I had been cut out.
