Once Joe drove off, I turned on the lights and managed to hang two more paintings before my legs began to tremble with exhaustion. Too much booze and not enough sleep were catching up with me, so I carried the remaining canvasses upstairs to my apartment to deal with later.
Within minutes I’d stripped off my clothes and crawled beneath the sheets. I kept a fan running at night, the white noise helping me to sleep, but tonight it wasn’t working its usual magic. When I shut my eyes a barrage of questions flew through my head, and all of them had to do with Joe, and with me.
“Why now?” I murmured, hugging a pillow to my chest. “I was happy alone, I think.” That statement bothered me. Had I been truly happy living the single life? If Joe hadn’t re-entered my world, I wouldn’t have given it a
