Page 112 of My Sweetest Agony

I shake my head. “I don’t know, but it isn’t one to me anymore because I walked into his studio while he was painting and saw dozens of them lined up along the walls.”

“Oh, my God.” She takes a gulp of her wine like she needs it to fortify herself for the rest of the conversation. “What did he say?”

I clear my throat, imagining the way he looked in those jeans and nothing else, bent over the canvas, applying such smooth strokes with the hands he then used on me.

“Holy shit, you’re blushing.”

“What?” I glance up. “Uhh, it’s the wine.”

Marlo purses her lips. “You’ve literally had two sips. What happened?”

Shit.

Too much.

Far too much.

I run my hand over my face but can’t look up at her when I make the confession. “I saw a painting of me.”

“The man painted you?”

“He did.” I draw a deep breath and force myself not to hide. “And it was from that night.”

Her eyes narrow on me. “What night?”

“Remember Nancy’s birthday party? The first time Drew and I…you know?”

“Oh. You mean when you finally fucked?”

I cringe. “Jesus, Marlo, do you have to say it like that?”

She barks out a laugh and takes a sip of her wine. “How else am I supposed to say it? That’s what happened, isn’t it?”

“Sort of…”

Her body stiffens. “What do you mean, ‘sort of?’”

This is where it’s going to hurt because this means exposing the great lie—the one Cam and Drew both kept from me for so long.

“Well, I discovered why Drew and Cam stopped talking…”

She keeps watching me, waiting for me to continue.

“Because earlier in the night, I left the party to get some fresh air out in the garden.” I squirm, shifting to tuck my feet under me. “And Drew eventually joined me, and things got…very inappropriate for public.”

Marlo’s jaw drops and stays open. “Did you fuck Drew in his mother’s garden during her damn birthday party?”

I shake my head. “No…I let who I thought was Drew kiss me senseless and get me off on his hand in his mother’s garden during her damn birthday party.”

“Oh. My. Fucking. God.” Marlo shifts forward and sets her wineglass on the coffee table, like she doesn’t trust herself to hold it anymore. “It wasn’t Drew?”

“No.” I shake my head, running my hands through my hair. “That was Cam that night out in the garden. He came to surprise his mom and Drew at the party. They didn’t even know he was in the country, and he was going to slip in through the back door and surprise them. Only, he got interrupted on his way in.” I press my hand against my chest. “By me.”

“Holy shit. And he just pretended to be Drew so he could hook up with you?”

Her outrage matches what I felt when I discovered the truth last night.

And how I should still feel about the situation.