Page 76 of Crying Shame

Tears washed down my cheeks. He was perfect. I had no defenses against stopping him from having my heart and anything else he might want. I swiped at my cheeks. “I… need a minute to freshen up before we start this…”

“Whatever you need,” he said when I was walking away.

I rushed to the corridor and toward the ladies' room. I wasn’t sure what Elon was thinking, but I was lost in the fantasy that our relationship might be absolutely real.

38

Elon

My chest felt like it caved in as I waited for her to finish painting. I’d been so excited about my idea to copy a Monet painting, but now I wasn’t sure if it had been a good one. She was miserable. I wasn’t sure if therapy would help or if there was anything else I could do to make her happy.

If she decided she wanted a life away from me, I might have to respect her decision.

My stomach twisted. Then my phone dinged. I picked it up and realized it was Charlie in the family group chat.

Charlie:I told work I quit.

Forgetting my drama for a moment, I typed back.

Me:Awesome. I’m happy for you.

Charlie: Aren’t you on a date with your true love?

My skin was all pins and needles. I hated being called out.

Me:She’s

I stopped typing as texting wasn’t a good way to confess that I was losing hope. I took a deep breath and finished the text.

Me:She's in the bathroom. Congrats, though.

My heart raced. I never talked like that.

Charlie:My last flight is in two weeks from Paris. Then I’ll fly home to New York. Party when I get to my place and stay this time.

I glanced up from my phone to see Clarissa walking toward me, her face shining. She looked like an angel. Was that because of how much I loved her? I tucked my phone back in my pocket, and she brushed my arm.

“What were you doing?” she asked.

Letting her go was going to break me, but she could be right that I depended on money. I forced myself to smile. “Group chat with my brothers. Charlie is moving to Manhattan. His penthouse is in the building next to mine.”

She pressed her hand on her stomach. “Heaven forbid a Norouzi would have an apartment even one floor down.”

I wasn’t sure why she was smiling.

“More sarcasm?” I asked.

She patted my back. “Not really."

"Are you ready to paint?” I asked.

She slipped into one of the seats behind an easel. “Absolutely. I cleaned my face.”

I picked up a brush. “I never meant to make you cry.”

Her eyes misted, but she smiled at me. “Of course you didn’t. I know that. Now let’s focus.”

“You’re on.” I hoped this would help make her a little happier.