Total pages in book: 65
Estimated words: 63564 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 318(@200wpm)___ 254(@250wpm)___ 212(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 63564 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 318(@200wpm)___ 254(@250wpm)___ 212(@300wpm)
That he loved me.
It hurt so much to say those words and not have him say it back. It hurt to see how angry my love made him. It turned a perfect man into a raging monster. The idea of being happy and in love with a woman was really that repulsive to him.
It killed me.
I stood in the heels Andrew gave me, the pumps silver and sparkling. They were painful like any other shoes I wore, but I had to tough it out. I was getting paid enough for the discomfort.
I dropped my robe and stood in the silver lingerie Andrew had me try on.
He sat in the red armchair, looking at me like he wasn’t impressed.
I straightened my shoulders even more, perfecting my posture the way Conway taught me.
But Andrew didn’t react. “What do you think?”
“About what?” I asked.
“About this bodysuit. What would make it better?”
I looked at my reflection in the mirror. The bodysuit was simple, skintight with a bow at the top. It didn’t have a lot of texture to it, and it seemed overly boring. “I have no idea…it looks nice to me.”
“What would Conway do?”
The question was immediately unwelcome. It made me think it was a cut into my brain, an investigation into what I knew about Conway. I’d seen him design his pieces regularly, but I had no idea what happened in his mind. And even if I did, I would never stoop that low. Even though he turned out to be an asshole who broke my heart, he still treated me right. I had to honor that. “I have no idea. His pieces are pretty simple too.”
“You really have no recommendations?” he asked.
“I just model the lingerie, Andrew. Conway didn’t include me in the design process.”
“But he used you as inspiration, yes?”
“Yes,” I said. “But again, I don’t know how.”
Andrew turned back to his sketchbook and made a few marks. He looked up at me from time to time. “This piece needs a lot more work. But when I’m done, I’d like to photograph you for an ad spread in Vogue. Would that be alright?”
I wasn’t paid to say no. “Of course.”
“Great. Give me a few more days, and I’ll get back to you.”
I stared at my phone when I was home.
I kept expecting Conway’s number to appear on the screen.
Was he thinking about me? Did he ever think about me?
Had he already fucked someone else by now?
I couldn’t let my thoughts go there—not if I didn’t want to drown in misery.
I allowed myself a glass of wine after my meager dinner of a piece of salmon and veggies. Now I was expected to remain a certain size, so my favorite meals were no longer available. With Conway, he never cared about my waistline. He didn’t treat me differently at my heaviest or my thinnest.
I sat on the hardwood floor in front of the floor-to-ceiling window. My wineglass was beside me, and I wore Conway’s black t-shirt. It was loose on my arms and my waist, and it stretched all the way down to my knees.
I stared at the city lights that surrounded the park. It was a beautiful view, but it didn’t compare to the one I saw on that hilltop with Conway. Verona looked beautiful under the sunlight, absolutely stunning.
He showed me so many beautiful things.
I wondered what his life was like now. Did he throw away all my belongings? Was he sleeping in the bed we shared together? It’d been two weeks since the last time we’d made love. Did he miss being between my legs? Did he miss it as much as I did?
Did he have any regrets about the way we left things?
All I had to do was call him to find out.
But what if he didn’t have any regrets? What if he hadn’t thought about me once since I left? What if he was annoyed that I called him?
How would I ever recover from that?
The risk was too great, so I chickened out.
When Andrew finished designing the piece, I wore it for the photoshoot.
It was my first one.
I had no experience at all, so I tried to pretend I was on the runway. I focused on my posture and my presence. I didn’t smile because Conway told me I should never smile when I was on camera.
He told me to be sexy…even though that advice wasn’t necessarily helpful.
I lay back on a bed, the purple comforter and pillow contrasting against the silver lingerie I wore. The photographer moved my hair in different ways, making sure the lighting hit me just right.
This was different from the runway because this was a single moment in time that was being captured. It would be in magazines all over the world, and there was no doubt Andrew would have it on billboards too.