Chapter Six
988 Words
Two days had passed, and somehow I was still breathing. It was Friday morning, almost the weekend.
I left my house for work very much earlier than usual. And now I was seated by the window on the train, carefully guarding the box of homemade cookies and sandwiches Yvonne had packed for my lunch. It seemed like one of the few things keeping me warm in my cold world.
I stared out the train window. The tops of buildings flickered past, the early commuters shuffled on and off and the train kept moving like nothing had changed.
But everything had changed. A trickle of a tear ran down my chin.
I missed Mitch. God. I really did.
I missed the lone times we spent in his apartment over the weekends. I missed the way he watched me paint…Like I was the only thing that mattered. Or so I thought.
I missed our dumb jokes and our crazy arguments over nothing. I was supposed to be packing for a surprise weekend visit today.
A lump rose in my throat. I wiped my eyes and blinked fast, steeling all the resolve in my body not to cry here– at least not in front of strangers. My thoughts wandered back to Karl, and a small smile tugged at my lips. I didn’t know a last name to try Googling him (though the perks I’d been getting at the studio these past two days already said a lot). ‘Karl’ was a common name anyway and I'd get thousands of results. I wasn’t neck deep in finding out who he was, and I definitely hadn't mentioned him to Yvonne and Ivy. Knowing them, it was the best idea.
Truth was, I wasn’t ready to know what kind of man Karl truly was.
Now that I was heartbroken and at my lowest point, I truly understood what it meant to have your own circle of friends who would stick with you through thick and thin, offering good companionship. Yvonne and Ivy—especially Yvonne, made me feel cared for, even though I was broke and barely scraping by. I’d been kind of waiting for Yvonne to suggest we move into her penthouse. My studio apartment was basically a run-down version, and she was way too used to living in luxury to keep pretending she was okay living in it with me.
As wild as they both could be, they never crossed my boundaries. With that being said, I did sleep the last two nights with a spatula by my side, just in case I had to whack Yvonne back to her senses if she tried to kiss me again.
I never really talked to them about how bad my financial situation was. I guess I didn’t want it to seem like I was taking advantage of their kindness and status. Ivy Jones and Yvonne Kent were what you’d call trust fund babies, born into the kind of wealth most people, especially me, couldn't even imagine. Their respective families had been billionaires for generations, so technically, they never needed to work a day in their lives. Regardless, Ivy was famous for her Skincare and Make -up brand, and Yvonne was a successful lawyer who worked in one of the top firms in the country. I'll have to admit, it's pretty impressive how many opportunities fall into place when you've got that kind of financial safety net.
I first met Ivy in a café at Harvard University back when we were still students. I was there on a scholarship. I was trying to stretch five dollars into lunch and dinner. Unfortunately for me, she accidentally spilt her fancy oat milk latte all over my laptop. I was horrified, but then she offered to buy me a new MacBook like it was no big deal. And I got it the next day, which I'm still using now. Back then, I really thought she was out of her mind. But somehow, we hit it off.
Barely a week later, she introduced me to Yvonne, and the three of us just clicked. We’ve been as thick as thieves ever since. It's kinda wild to believe it’s been six years. I couldn’t help but smile at the memory.
“Morning, Bree, you are here so early,” Cam greeted, pulling me out of my thoughts, and I realised I was already walking through the doors of GalleryBridge.
I smiled back and paused. “I want to submit my sketches and appraise them with Harper,”
“Good luck to you,” She beamed at me. A little too much.
“Thanks,” I said and waved back, scrambling up the stairs to my corner.
Preparing artwork for someone who had no part in creating it but still had to judge it always stressed me out. Sure, it was their job to evaluate it, but it didn’t make it any easier. And I had always fought with Harper Langston, so much so that I always dreaded him whenever I made sketches and needed him to look at them and approve them.
My meeting with Harper dragged on for three exhausting hours, full of back-and-forth nonsense with no real conclusion. By the time it ended at four, I was completely wiped out. I was now slumped at my desk, chewing on one of Yvonne's cookies, when my phone lit up with a call from Yvonne.
“Hey,” I answered, feeling a wave of relief wash over me.
“GUESS who’s baaaaacck?!” Ivy’s high-pitched voice practically burst through the speaker. I instinctively pulled the phone away from my ear and switched it to speaker mode, chuckling softly to myself.
“You’re back in town,” I squealed, smiling ear to ear.
“Damn right I am. And we’re all going out to the Garden of Eden tonight!”
“The Garden of Eden?” I asked, raising an eyebrow.
- Writer
