Page 41 of Stick to the Deal (Friendship Springs Romance #3)
Junk Food and Feelings
T he Florida golden sunset shining through my penthouse window does little to lift my mood. The apartment feels cold and empty in ways I’ve never noticed before. I toss my phone across the couch, wanting that vile gossip rag to disappear.
If I ever find out who that Wendy is, I’m going to make her life miserable. I can take an unflattering candid and post it all over the internet. How’s that for poetic justice for a tabloid bottom feeder!
This marriage of convenience is becoming quite inconvenient.
I don’t care that Reginald has a past—we all do. I don’t even care that his ex is some heinous society bitch—though it does make me question his taste. It’s the insinuations that they are still…something that has me irritated.
It shouldn’t.
That was the deal! I’m his wife in name only. When we are apart, he can do whatever, whoever he wants. And so can I—not that I have.
Reginald is the only person I’ve slept with in a year. Oh, there’ve been offers. I’d like to make the excuse that I’ve been too busy, but I really haven’t been.
The truth is, no man has caught my interest since I met Reginald. When I can get the best orgasms of my life at home, why would I go out looking?
The fucking asshole has ruined sex for me with all men .
So I’ve found myself spending more time with him than our contractual week a month.
I say it’s just for the orgasms, but my current mood implies it could be more than that.
The last thing I need is to depend on someone—that’s the way of heartbreak.
So here I am, alone in Florida on a self-proclaimed husband detox.
The irony is, with no shoots or Pop business to keep me distracted, my mind keeps flitting back to Reginald instead of thinking about literally anything else. I need a damn distraction. Some new project to dive into.
But first, junk food.
How about that new Mexican place? What the fuck was the name of it? I’d grabbed a flyer at the food truck event last month. Where did I shove it?
Padding across the kitchen floor with purpose, I rifle through junk drawers, finally finding a stack of papers I’d shoved away. As I’m shuffling through the pile, a single black business card falls to the counter.
Henri Beaufort Gallery.
It’s stark against the white marble counters, the letters masculine but elegant and foiled in gold.
I shoved the card in this drawer after Christmas and never thought of it again.
Sure, it’s flattering that this guy wants to show my work.
Could I actually put an entire collection together with the pictures I have?
What the hell would I have to say? I shoot rock stars and handbags for a living.
Turning decisively on my heel, I carry the flyer back to the couch to order and then consume my nachos while watching reality shows.
Just as RuPaul is about to declare the winner, my phone dings with a text.
Kenzo
Hey love. I want to use this photo for the album. Can you play with the colors and send a high res file to me?
I shoot him a thumbs up, flick off the TV, and head to my home office to get to work.
To be safe, and because I really needed that distraction, I mock up a few different options and email them all.
As I’m shutting down my editing program, a file I’ve left open fills my screen.
It’s the photo of Reginald and I almost kissing in front of the aurora borealis.
The greens, blues, and purples of the sky swirl out from behind us, giving the viewer the sense of Valkyrie wings.
The starkness of our silhouette against the dancing lights gives me an idea.
Hundreds of images flash across my screen as I look for the perfect ones in my personal files. I copy them to a new folder moments before moving on to the next. Then I edit. A crop here. Adjust the color there. Blur this area, focus that one.
When the red light of dawn spreads across my wall, I realize I’ve been at it all night. When was the last time a project consumed me this much?
Probably never.
Stretching to crack my back, I head to the kitchen for something to eat and drink. As I lift the glass of water to my lips for a long sip, I eye the card again and pick it up. I tap the edge against the counter twice, then bring it with me to the office.