𝗣 𝗬 𝗥 𝗢 𝗠 𝗔 𝗡 𝗜 𝗔 | BOOK THREE

T W E N T Y - E I G H T

[jolene hale]

I sit on the roof of my new apartment building, waiting for Eleven O'Clock to come so I can stargaze again. I pull my knees to my chest, watching as the seconds tick down on my watch on my wrist. The lights kick off and the world goes dark again, allowing all of the thoughts in my head to go silent for three minutes. I exhale, remembering back six, maybe seven months ago when I showed Graham this spectacular view, now knowing that I have to share it with him for the rest of my life. I remember his lips on mine and the shock, the physical shock it sent through my body. The graze of his stubble against my cheek before his soft lips landed on my own. His hands were in my hair and his arm was around my waist. He had me wrapped around his finger. His breath was fresh, minty, as if he had just finished brushing his teeth before I dragged him up onto the roof. Why did I show him my one secret thing in this city? I take in the stars before the lights kick back on and I climb inside to my desk. My laptop chimes meaning I got an email. I look at the page and exhale. Another call from Graham's number to my old cell number. I blocked him and got a new cell number to start fresh, although all I can think of lately is Graham and his family. I know that Atticus survived and I've never been happier for him, but my anger with Graham is firm. Everything I had burnt up in that fire, except for the clothes off my back and the sheets off of my bed. Graham destroyed everything I had—he watched the flames devour my shop and didn't try anything to stop it... He's a firefighter for God's sakes and he didn't do anything to fight the fire. My Father's insurance check is what was going to pay for that building, at least for another ten years before it was burnt out. Now, the check can only pay for about three or four years maximum at my new studio because we're still paying for the fire damages. In about four years, I'll be broke, living off of ramen and McDonald's coffee, probably sleeping in my car. In two months, I get to attend a wedding as the professional artist. The couple wanted something original for their wedding so they hired me to paint their first dance. I've begun to sketch out angles and ideas for the painting, most of which have been thrown in the trash. I still have two months to figure it out, but don't know what I am going to do. I still need to contact the bride and groom regarding a color palette so the painting matches their wedding's color scheme. I also want to wear a fancier outfit, but just know that I'll spill paint on whatever I wear. I could wear an apron and still dress well. That could work. My work phone rings and I answer it, exhaling softly.

"This is Jolene, how can I help you?" I ask.

"Jolene? It's Atticus." A strong voice says on the other end of the line.

My heart stops momentarily. Atticus Eaton. It's been months since I spoke to him.

"Atticus, hi. How are you doing? I'm glad you're alright. You gave us all quite the scare a while back." I say.

"I'm good. The surgeries all went well and PT was quick." He says.

"I'm happy for you," I say. "Really, I am."

"Thanks, but that really not what I'm calling you about. I want to ask what happened between you and Graham." He says.

Of course that's why he called—he wants me to explain the situation to him so he can explain to Graham later. Of course.

"If you're thinking that this is a ploy to get you to pour out the details of your break up with my brother so I may take them to him, you're wrong. Look, I was in a coma for a little less than a month and the only reason I'm asking is because I want to piece together the details of what happened while I was out. Graham can explain some things, but I want the other half of the story--your side." He says.

I smile and grab my calendar off of the wall, exhaling sharply.

"I'd love to talk but there's just too much to talk about over the phone. Are you free to get a coffee sometime soon?" I ask.

"Afraid not. I just moved to NYC for three months for some conference work and teaching skills." He says. 

I scan my calendar and smile.

"Did you say NYC? I'm gonna be up in Queens in two weeks to visit my Mother and Step-father. It's like a twenty minute drive into NYC. We can meet up for lunch and catch up then. How does that sound?" I ask. "Tuesday the fourteenth at noon, your time?" 

"That sounds great. I'll move some things around and clear up my schedule. I'll text you the address. I know a great diner in New York." He says. 

"See you then, Atticus." I say.

I hang up and exhale, writing down the plans for lunch on my calendar, making sure that I will have time in between conversations with my Mother and Bill, my step-father. I return to sketching out possible angles while trying to imagine the possibilities of their color scheme.

* * * * *

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