Love Sucks by Cynthia St. Aubin

Author:Cynthia St. Aubin [St. Aubin, Cynthia]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Oliver-Heber Books

Chapter 13

Until this moment, I had never registered a revelation as physical pain. I felt as if someone had dropped a cinder block on my chest. “Not coming back?”

“I am sorry,” he said.

“I want to talk to him,” I insisted. “I want to hear it from him.”

“I'm afraid that is not possible.”

“Why not?” Tears were backing up at the base of my throat. I could feel them chopping my words short, crowding out my thoughts.

“Those were his instructions.” Toulouse looked down to the gallery floor where Randy Lee shifted and moaned. “Pardon me.” He screwed the handle back on his cane and clopped down the stairs, as much to escape me, I suspected, as to see to Randy Lee.

A flesh-colored blur sailed across the gallery.

At least he'd thrown him through the window on the opposite side. Now they'd match once I had it replaced. Still, I'd have to talk to Toulouse about using the door next time.

I sat down at my desk and peeled the Quick Fixes magnet off my desk drawer.

“Another window?” Dermot asked several minutes later.

“And the floor. Again.”

“Good hell, girl. What kind of business you running there?”

“You want the work or not?”

“Half an hour okay?” He seemed preoccupied. I pictured him digging in his ear with another tool. Perhaps a file this time.

“Fine,” I said.

Another $1500 saw everything righted.

“Your love life could bankrupt this place.” Shayla bent over her lunch of take-out sushi and bolted down a large bite. I wondered if the seaweed had something to do with her choice of meals.

“Love has nothing to do with it,” I pointed out.

“If you say so,” she mumbled around the mouthful of fish.

I wandered back to my desk and checked my email. If RSVPs were any indication, the next gallery show would have record attendance.

And Abernathy wouldn't be here to see it.

My purse beckoned from my peripheral vision. I refused to let myself indulge in another sniff of Abernathy's shirt. Not yet, anyway.

He would come back.

He had to.

Didn't he?

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