Page 56 of Apparently, I’m A B!tch

Chapter29

Tristan

Sunday night

Of courseI didn’t stand and watch her walk away with Uncle Henry. I could still taste her on my tongue, I could still feel her on my fingertips. She was right there in front of me. I’d have to have been a pathetic asshole to let her just walk away believing all those things about me; that I could be capable of dating more than one woman at once, that I was a cheater.

I was none of those things and she should’ve known that. She knew me.

Ignoring Kenny and Carlos, I followed her down the stairs and out of the building, pleading for her to listen, assuring her nothing happened, that I needed to talk to her, that Rochelle was just a step toward a gallery showing. I didn’t touch her, I didn’t kiss her, and I didn’t plan to do anything like that.

She spun around as they were waiting for a car to pull over, cheeks flushed and eyes glazed with unshed tears, and said, “So you’re using her to get ahead? You’re letting her believe she has a chance with you so you can get your paintings seen by some assholes in suits who think they know what decent art is? And you think that’s okay?”

She was comparing me to Harvey, like I knew she would if she found out. In her mind, whether or not I was a cheater, I became a manipulative, deceptive asshole, and that was enough.

Her voice shook as she said, “I just wanted you to be honest with me! But you’ve been lying to me this whole time while you’ve been seeing another woman, and you’re using her! After I let you…” She clapped her hands to her mouth, her tears spilling over. I reached for her, needing to pull her back into my arms, but she stepped away and shook her head, not saying another word.

She left with Uncle Henry, but not before he gave me one lingering, disappointed look that made my stomach drag and churn.

Carlos followed me out. I turned and looked back at him, shaking my head, trying to keep everything contained.

“Look, T. It’s probably for the best. Nikki’s really pretty and all, but Rochelle is gonna give you what you need. You should just cut your losses now and…” He trailed off as I shook my head at him.

“I don’t want to do this, Carlos. This isn’t me. I don’t want Rochelle, and I don’t use people like that. And Nikki isn’t some girl.” I stepped closer, suddenly needing my friend. “Don’t you get it? It’s Nikki. When I met her, it was like a bolt of lightning struck me in the chest. I’ve been in love with her for years, and I can’t lose my chance to be with her because of Rochelle and a damn showing.” Carlos smiled and glanced down, giving a slight shake of his head. “I know you think I’m acting like an idiot and that I should just date Rochelle, but it’s true. Nikki has this hold on me. I’m in love with her.”

He clucked his tongue and let a breath out through his nose. “That’s just the artist in you man. You think you love her. You’ve been friends for a while, maybe that’s all it is.”

I’d never been more frustrated with Carlos than I was in that moment.

“No, it’s more than that. I know it is.” I looked back at the empty street where Nikki climbed into a car and left me. “But I ruined it again. She wouldn’t even hear me out. I ended things with Rochelle already. Yesterday.”

Carlos sucked in a breath through his teeth and clapped a hand on my shoulder. “Oh man… how’d she take it?”

“Not well. She’s probably blacklisting me as we speak.”

“You know, it’s not too late. If I were you, I’d forget about Nikki and concentrate on finishing that collection you were working on. Then you can call Rochelle, tell her you made a mistake and you’re ready to date her for real. Rochelle’s only seen one piece of your work. When she sees the others, she’ll go nuts and get you your own show.”

I shrugged away from him and left, unable to believe he couldn’t understand the need I had for Nikki. I walked alone along the city streets for a good half hour before I decided to get an Uber to take me back to my shop.

Once I was inside, I ran my hands through my hair and carefully undid the buttons of the shirt Nikki bought for me, stripping it off as I walked into my studio.

I wanted to bring her back here. I wanted to make the Nikki-Special and bake her a fresh batch of shaabiyat for dessert. I wanted to tell her I’d been making them for her since we met and I’d keep making them until she begged me not to. Then I wanted to show her the collection I was working on, and see her reaction when she laid eyes on my favorite piece.

I went to my bed, the mattress creaking underneath me as I dragged my hands over my face. I looked at the canvas through my fingers, the unfinished image of Nikki smiling as her face converged with the decor of the coffee shop while it was still Henry’s. How was I supposed to finish it now?