CHAPTER 50 ART STUDIO

The toy.

.

.

A week had passed, and there was still no contract to sign, leaving a disturbing feeling in my stomach that never went away.

"Aren't you done yet? It's already 2," Jessie said, peeping over my shoulder at my PC.

Today was Friday, and we were closing two hours early. Jessie had suggested we go to an art café where I could paint my heart out. The problem was that I had no skill whatsoever in drawing.

"I'm done," I replied, switching off my PC. "We can go now."

As I entered her car, she asked, "Heard from Damon?"

I flinched at the mention of his name, unable to fathom how I could miss something I never had, or maybe I missed what I could have had.

I fastened my seatbelt. "Let's not talk about him."

I was doing my utmost to forget him. I had moved out of the apartment, leaving every outfit, every piece of jewelry—everything, including the car he had gotten for me. I didn’t want any reminders of him. But my heart refused to cooperate.

"Do we really have to go to an art studio?