Page 50 of Painted Truths

Nola pouts her coral painted lips as her lover stumbles across the room to sweep me up in the biggest hug.

“Girl, you have always got a place here with us. Forever and ever and ever. We are going to miss the hell out of you. Who will listen to me moan when Nola forgets to replace the coffee, hmm?”

The lady in question chuckles loudly at this, knowing full well it drives both Jo and me insane when she forgets, which is all the time.

“Come on, drunky.”

Jo shrugs her off. “And don’t get me started on how she never replaces the toilet roll. Ugh!”

I can’t help my loud chortle as Nola tries again. “Let’s leave our girl to finish up, baby. It’s late, and you’ve got work tomorrow.”

Bestowing me with a sloppy kiss intended to land on my cheek but somehow ends up on my shoulder, Jo crab walks from the room, holding her arm up in farewell.

Nola goes to follow but stops at the door to turn and look at me.

“Are you okay, Liv? You were so excited about the show tonight, and then you just up and disappeared. It was so unlike you. You had me worried; we both were.”

I love this girl. Meeting her changed my life in many ways, and I’ll be forever grateful for her and Josie’s friendship.

I’d fallen on my feet when I met these two; that’s a fact.

But tonight is not the time, and that’s soon confirmed when we hear drunky down the hall shouting, “Noooooooo-laaaaaaaaa! I’m going to start without youuuuuu!”

The woman in question shrugs sheepishly, eliciting a laugh from my smiling lips at their obvious lust for each other while simultaneously reaching for my earphones. Then, leaving me feeling lighter than I have all night, Nola swiftly closes the door leaving me to stew amongst my packing and my unwanted thoughts.

* * *

Arriving at my desk bright and early on Monday morning, I’m confounded by a single blue rose with a small note attached.

Approaching it like it possibly has rabies, I eventually pluck it from its resting place, unable to keep from brushing my fingertips across the soft petals, and read the note, written in an obviously masculine hand.

Please forgive me for leaving so abruptly and callously.

Yours, Henry

What.

The.

Fuck?

This man is like Jekyll and Hyde. Yet, even so, I can’t help the tiny bubbles of delight that keep popping within my stomach for the rest of the day. Things like this don’t happen in real life. This is like something from one of my romance novels.

Could he be a Prince Charming in disguise?

Freya’s mouth drops open when she spots the flower tucked away, almost out of sight, on the corner of my desk.

“Is it from him?” she mouths, pointing her forefinger skyward, indicating the floor above us, to which I nod before I can catch myself, unable to stop a dimpled grin from breaking out on my face. And in true Freya style, she can’t let it go, so even though she doesn’t make one of her signature announcements, the entire staff of 25 have been by my desk for one reason or another by the time lunch has rolled around.

They’re about as subtle as a car crash, but they don’t mention the rose, even though they all nearly strain their eyesight in an attempt to read the note tucked in beside it.

I'm sorting through Alex’s work week when I spot an email from the man himself, which I find strange, as we’re due to meet for lunch in a little over an hour.

Sender: Alexander DeMarco [email protected]

Recipient: Olivia Parker [email protected]

Subject: Banished to the Desert