Page 57 of Fresh Canvas
Val’s laughter continued, though he hitched a challenging eyebrow. “A vampire?”
“Yup,” I said. “Pretty sure that’s the one.”
“If I remember right, Adams, you were the one that rejectedmy dinner invitation yesterday.” Val’s cocky smirk was back, at least.
“I rejected your dinner invitation, Russo,” I said sweetly, “because no woman should ever, under any circumstance, accept one after being shoved into a closet.”
“Fair enough.” He laughed.
For the second time since I’d known him, Val’s mouth widened into that endearing, lopsided smile, eye crinkles and all.
I couldn’t look away.
“Come on, you weirdo,” he said with a chuckle. “The cafeteria is closed, but there’s vending machines on the first floor.” His hand encircled my wrist, pulling me behind him without a second thought.
Although I would never admit it, I kinda wished he was dragging me back to our closet instead.
“You are the most boring person I’ve ever met. Who likes bland, plain potato chips?” I sat cross-legged on the floor of Val’s office. He sat across from me, leaning his back against the rain-soaked window. Behind the steady curtain of rain, dusk was falling.
Val didn’t respond, instead gesturing to the fluffy chocolate bar in my hand. “You do know those are mostly air, right? They don’t even count as chocolate.”
“Well, in that case, I should have bought two.” I grinned. Watching uptight, rude Val Russo sitting on his office floor—arguing about junk food of all things—was beyond comical. “You know, you’re a pretty funny guy for someone so awful.”
“You’re not so bad yourself—when you’re not annoying the living daylights out of me.”
“So, what are we, friends now?” I laughed.
“You wish.” Val dodged the chip I threw at him.
“Shut up, Russo.”
I shook my head with a chuckle. Chewing a barbecueflavored chip, I reflected over the day’s events and how they transpired to this.
The run-in with Vanessa in the park had provided Val with plenty of ammunition, only to result in a ceasefire. Instead, he had shown kindness. Empathy, even.
“So… Will you tell me about Ryan?” Val asked quietly.
The sickening twist in my gut never failed to accompany the mention of my ex-husband. Val seemed to avoid my gaze at all costs, practically shoving his nose inside his chip bag.
It is only fair.
I still felt honored that he had trusted me enough to share about Stella. Procrastinating, I took a long swig of Diet Coke and sighed. “What do you want to know?”
Val glanced up. “How long were you married?”
I set my soda on the carpeted floor and rubbed my temple. “A little over ten years.”
“I’m guessing that Vanessa and Ryan…” Val trailed off grimly.
I pressed my lips into a hard line. “Yup.” I emphasized the “p” with a pop. “Pretty much.” The heat in my cheeks probably looked like a tomato.
The vague insinuation of Ryan’s affair was enough for Val to understand. He clamped his jaw shut the same way he’d done with Stirling, seemed to swallow what he truly wanted to say.
For the first time, I wished he hadn’t.
Val softened as his eyes greeted mine. “His loss.”
My stomach hit a pothole.
