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I woke thisto the dull ache of my raw backside, proof of his punishment I did not wear panties when I dressed for work I cannot bear the touch of anything on my skin The dull ache eased as the day went on but the memory of e sales today andof a famous artist’s collection My clients were thrilled to entle strength about hih to his brush He is passion personified and I wonder what it would be like to have a man like that feel passionate about me I wonder what it would feel like to wake upwhat the new gaer fun They are not the escape they once were He is not the Master he once was I feel as if I aer for the kind of passion this artist has for life again I hunger for allery in the first place? A hunger for erbecause h

I sla The artist Rebecca has written about It’s not Chris, I tell ers into his ho It has to be Ricco Alvarez, who is s; he apparently used to do the of Chris? It’s insane "Inherently private" is how he described hi about Chris, there is nothing in this entry, or any other, that suggests Rebecca’s lover had been an artist My gut tightens and I shove to my feet and rush back to the closet I drop down on the floor in front of the safe, before setting the journal I’ inside I pull out the velvet box and lift the lid and stare down at the paintbrush and picture of Rebecca that is torn in two so that I can’t see as in the photo with her

"It’s not Chris," I whisper "It’s not"

My cell phone begins to ring and I shove the lid down and stick the box back inside the safe I give the journal a glare and shove it inside the safe as well, and then I shut the safe and twirl the coto miss my call, I push to my feet and run toward the bedroo A glance at the caller ID tells ain

"Chris," I answer urgently, sitting on the edge of the bed, hoping to hear so in this call to erase the journal entry and how it’s made me feel

"If this was any other trip for any other reason, I wouldn’t be leaving"

"I know" As insecure as I can be, in this moment, I feel the connection betweenat the hospital is important Where are you now?"

"We just started to cross the bridge I had to push ht back an hour but I should stillit to ht" Guilt over the journal entry twists inside me and I can’t hold it in "I’m weak, Chris," I blurt out "I read another journal entry after you left, but I’m done now No more I locked all four of the journals in the safe and I don’t want the coet back"

He’s silent for several seconds, which feel like an eternity "Do I want to knohat you read and what it’sto convince him, and maybe rip tightens around the phone "I proot back, and I did I’"

"You told me when you didn’t have to," he says softly "Thatback to see s, Chris I’m not sure I really told you how much it allto make " His voice softens "Saturday is going to take forever to get here"

"Yes," I agree "Forever"

"More so because I’oing to give you his cell phone nu you call hih I know you well enough to know you aren’t going to agree to that"

"No, but after what happened at the storage unit, I’ soht, I’d have had no one to lean on, and it wasn’t a good feeling "Thank you, Chris"

"Thanksafe and make sure you stop and talk to Jacob before you leave If he’s not around have the front desk call for hiet settled in LA to check on you" His voice lowers, turns soft and intimate "Bye, baby"

"Bye, Chris," I whisper, and end the call, falling back on the , my emotions all over the place I really don’t knohat to do with therab le into a pillow, sly with the heady ood," I whisper