AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“You’re a good man, Jamie.” I clap him on the shoulder. “The world doesn’t deserve you.”
He rolls his eyes at me, but I can see the smile at the corners of his mouth.
“When do we want to try and talk to her?”
“No time like the present,” I say. “I’ll text her and maybe we can bring over some dinner too?”
“You just want to butter her up with your cooking skills,” Phillip teases.
I give him the finger then pull out my phone.
Wesley—They just told me what happened and what you might have overheard. I’m so sorry things happened that way. Can we come over tonight and talk this through? Please, I don’t want things to end like this.
Avery—Why should I?
Wesley—I could say because I enjoy spending time with you or that we don’t want our classes to get awkward or for you to switch teachers without any closure.
Avery—But you’re not going with that?
Wesley—No, I think I’ll try and bribe you with a home-cooked dinner :)
Avery—Fine, but only because I don’t feel like cooking.
Wesley—I’ll take it.
Avery—Leo and I eat at 5.
A few seconds later, she sends me her address and a list of foods that Leo loves. It’s not exactly a warm welcome, but it’s a chance that the three of us are more than willing to take.
18
JAMIE
My hands are shaking as we walk up to the front of Avery’s condo building. I don’t think I’ve been this nervous since the night I asked Julia to marry me.
At least in that case, Julia hadn’t overheard me say she was a mistake—not that apologizing to someone is even remotely the same as proposing to the love of your life.
So why am I so anxious?
The outer door buzzes as it unlocks, reminding me that now isn’t the time to delve into the mysteries of what makes me anxious. Right now, I have an apology to make.
If I’d been asked what I thought Avery’s home looked like before I stepped into it, I would have been almost entirely accurate.
The walls are a soft gray with pops of bright colors from the whimsical art pieces spaced tastefully throughout the main area. Her table is tucked into the windowed nook next to the balcony door. It’s bare, but there are traces of flour at the corners.
I smile as I recognize the painting from the videos she posts on her website. I’d thought it was a print, but now that I can see it in person, it looks like an original Albright—one of our more famous local artists.
Without even saying hello, I walk over to the painting and plant myself in front of it.
I’ve never been a huge fan of abstract art, but this artist is an exception to the rule. Everything in it seems purposeful—the shapes, the colors, and even the negative space. Just being in front of it makes me feel like I’m in a church or a cemetery—anywhere sacred, really.
A small hand touches my upper arm and I jump.
“I had that reaction the first time I saw it too,” Avery says.
I search her face for any indication of how she might be feeling, but it’s a blank mask. It’s unsettling after having spent so much time with her in her natural state, but it’s nothing more than I deserve.
“I’ve been trying to get my hands on an Albright for months and they keep getting snapped up before I can even get one. How did you manage it?”
