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I’m about to leave his room when something catches my eye—a black booklet.
His art. His sketches. His everything.
I take a few steps forward, then curse myself for even thinking about it. I turn and head for the door. It’s personal. It’s his stuff. It’s like his journal.
He doesn’t want me to see.
I turn the knob but eye the booklet one more time beforemaking a split-second decision. I walk quickly to his lowered desk and open his sketchbook.
My pulse is rapid, rapid, rapid. My hands feel like they’re touching fire, like I’m on my way to hell, if I wasn’t already what with cheating on Harvey.
His words come back to me so vividly.I wouldn’t do that if I were you...Enter an artist’s world without asking permission. You might not like what you find.
Yet, I keep flipping through.
Pages and pages of abstract art greet me. It’s beautiful—I couldn’t tell you what it is, other than it’s beauty, similar to Damon’s paintings that follow him everywhere. But I’d have to be blind not to see the pain shine through.
He dates them. And signs them with his uniquely bold and edgy signature.
My fingers touch the page while I sit on his bed to continue my search in hell. I go through more pages until one catches my attention.
It’s Claire.
My throat burns as my eyes scan the date. A few weeks after she started working for him.
My heart aches because I can clearly see how he views her. She’s happy and carefree—everything I’m not. I’m justmeh.
And that’s why neither Harvey nor Damon want me.
Everything is so well defined. Not everyone can nail facial portraits, but he does. Her eyes, her eyebrows, her lip, and even her dimple. How many hours did he study her to get this right?
I’m so mad at you, Harv. Even though I shouldn’t be, I am.
Once again, my thoughts stay inside my head, for me, only me, to hear them.
I skim more pages and skip some until I land on another one.
He drew me.
He’s beyond talented. He captures more than the face—you can feel the character seeping through the ivory page.
I’m quiet; it’s there—bleeding out on cream paper. Is that why he’s turned to her instead of me? We always were different, even when we first started dating. Both daredevils and risktakers, but otherwise, Harvey was the life of the party, the center of attention.
He loved to laugh and make people laugh.
I was always quiet, reserved.
Like Damon.
I’m done snooping. Somehow seeing a drawing of me calmed my nerves. Though the fact that he has several of Claire doesn’t pan out in my favor.
Do I even want it to?That’sthe question, isn’t it?
I don’t know if Harv will be back tonight. Still, I make a chicken alfredo, needing the comfort it’ll provide. I keep leftovers for my lunch tomorrow and do laundry the rest of the evening.
After showering, I head for bed early, reading the fourth Harry Potter book, and then I try to fall asleep. But like everything else in my life right now—I fail miserably.
Two and A Half Years Ago . . .
