Forbidden Kiss_Carson Cove Scandals by Kelli Callahan

Author:Kelli Callahan [Callahan, Kelli]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Kelli Callahan Books
Published: 2019-08-06T04:00:00+00:00

* * *

The next day

I don’t know how I managed to actually fall asleep—it was probably all of the wine in my system that put me down for the count. I tossed and turned for a little while and actually heard Anna arrive shortly before my mom did. Even though I did fall asleep, I didn’t sleep well. My dreams were chaotic and filled with flashing scenes of my worst fears—getting caught with Bryant—the look on Victoria’s face when she found out we were together—and the one that woke me up was of him getting remarried to his ex-wife. That’s what it appeared to be at least—until he raised her veil, and I saw Alexis Devereaux underneath it. It was a dream so horrifying that I woke up in a cold sweat with the sun peeking through the clouds.

I’m definitely not going back to sleep after that.

When I was younger, I had a lot of reasons for painting—and one of them was because it helped me process my emotions with a certain level of clarity. My easel was turned around and the last painting I was working on was facing the closet—it was supposed to be a landscape, but I wasn’t in the mood for that. I replaced it with a fresh canvas, mixed up some paint, and let my emotions flow through the end of the paintbrush. Three hours later, I had a painting that was filled with dark imagery, and a splotchy outline of a woman crying orange tears. I had no idea why they were orange—and the woman didn’t resemble anyone I knew—but it seemed to capture the turmoil that was tearing my soul in half.

I wish it was possible to cry it all away—that would be easier than facing the truth.

I heard my sister’s bedroom door open, and a few minutes later, my mother’s did as well. I decided to join them—except my pajamas had a few smears of paint, so I quickly changed into a fresh set of clothes. The painting I created was personal, and even though my mother had lost her love of art, she would have still asked to see it if she knew I was working on something new. Anna probably would too—just because it had been a while since I picked up a brush. It was too emotional to share, and I wouldn’t be able to tell them where the inspiration came from. It was just too damn complicated to explain.

It’s a good thing it isn’t socially acceptable to have wine for breakfast…

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