Total pages in book: 74
Estimated words: 70209 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 351(@200wpm)___ 281(@250wpm)___ 234(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 70209 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 351(@200wpm)___ 281(@250wpm)___ 234(@300wpm)
Once he was gone, a pain filled my heart. He was the first man I found attractive, the first man that I noticed. As if I’d betrayed Bones, the guilt burned in my stomach. I was supposed to move on, but it seemed too soon for that.
I found Antonio attractive. I found him interesting because he liked art—my art.
But I definitely wasn’t ready.
I wasn’t sure when I would ever be ready.
I’d just walked into my apartment when Carmen knocked on the door behind me.
“Hey, what’s up?” I asked when I opened the door.
She was dressed in a red sleeveless dress with sandals. It’d been a hot day in Florence, the summer heat and humidity making everyone sweat, but Carmen didn’t seem to be affected by the weather. “Just wanted to take you out for a drink.”
I hadn’t been out much, choosing to hide within the four walls of my apartment. Carmen had respected my space for a while, knowing I needed to get through this breakup on my own.
But obviously, her patience had run out. “Vanessa, come on,” she said as she rolled her eyes. “You need to get out of this apartment.”
“I work every day, thank you very much.”
She rolled her eyes again, this time harder. “Downstairs. You walk like ten feet.”
“Whatever. I’m still working. I actually sold a painting today.” To a very handsome man.
“That’s great,” she said. “Let’s go out and celebrate.”
My cousin was only trying to cheer me up, so I thought it would be rude to ignore her. “I’m not picking up a guy, so don’t force that stunt on me.”
“Fine. But if a hot guy asks you out, you have to say yes.”
I narrowed my eyes. “No.”
“Vanessa—”
“I’m not ready.”
“It’s been six weeks, woman. Don’t you need some action? You must be going crazy going from getting it on with that hot piece of man to now you’ve got nothing happening. So treat yourself.”
I did miss sex. A lot. But I knew it wouldn’t be good with anyone else, not when I wasn’t in love. “The man who bought that painting today was a great-looking guy.”
“Yeah?” she asked with a smile.
“Beautiful man. But I felt so guilty for being attracted to him that I knew it was too soon.”
“So you let him walk out and didn’t get his number?” she asked incredulously.
I nodded. “I’m not ready.”
“It’s been six weeks…”
“I know, but that’s not long enough for me. I need more time. So whether a hot guy buys me a drink or not, I’m not going home with anyone.”
Carmen gave me a sympathetic look along with a nod. “Alright, no pressure. But you should get out anyway. You need to be around other humans, not a bunch of paint and brushes. And you know what? You can help find a hot guy for me.”
“Now that, I can do.”
I changed, and we left my apartment. We walked up the road a few blocks, both in dresses and heels. We passed the window of an art gallery, and in the very front was a painting that made me stop walking. It was new, because I’d passed this street a few times and never spotted it before.
Carmen kept walking, but she stopped when she realized I wasn’t beside her any longer. “What’s the holdup?”
I crossed my arms and stared at the painting through the glass. It was an image of Tuscany, of the vineyards in the background and a country home in the foreground. The details of the flowers, the ivy, the olive trees, and the rustic Italian craftsmanship all impressed me. Each flower petal was perfect, the sky was such an idyllic blue, and it perfectly captured the feeling of the countryside in the heat of summer.
It reminded me of my childhood.
It was the kind of painting I’d created dozens of times, but this painting spoke to me on such a deep level.
Carmen stared at it with me, her head slightly tilted. “It’s pretty. But I think your paintings are better.”
“No such thing as better,” I said as I stared at the expert brushstrokes. “This is a masterpiece.”
“Are you going to get it?”
“I wonder how much it is…”
Carmen stepped closer to the glass and squinted her eyes. “I can’t tell. Can’t read the artist’s name either. Looks like chicken scratches…”
“They’re closed now. But I think I’ll come by tomorrow.”
“Where are you going to put it?”
“In my living room. Right above the couch.”
“Yeah, that will look nice,” she said in agreement. “Hope it’s not too pricey. You never know how much a painting is gonna cost.”
“True. But I think it’ll be worth every penny.”
I went to the gallery down the road around lunchtime and was relieved to see the painting still hanging in the window. It was a large piece, something big enough to draw the focus in my living room. At least it would take the distraction off the painting of Bones…a painting I stared at constantly.