“I love your filthy mouth, Scott Cole,” she said, and with that she left.
I pushed off the desk and looked out the window, watching as she left the clubhouse a few minutes later. So many thoughts filled my mind, but as they came and went, one thought remained. It’s good to have my woman back.
2
Harlow
Today is going to be a good day.
I repeated this over and over in my mind as I drove away from the clubhouse. Yesterday I’d felt like I could conquer the world, but today I felt like the world could conquer me. It made no sense to me because after a great day yesterday and an amazing night with Scott, I’d thought for sure I would wake up today and tackle everything head on. But then again, the thing I’d learnt over the past few months was that not much in my head made sense to me.
I’d woken up with that empty feeling in the pit of my stomach that I’d become used to. Empty and me were old friends. The difference now, though, was that it was a friendship I had become determined to end. So I’d plastered a smile on my face and gone to see my man because the other thing I’d learnt over the past few months was that Scott was there for me in any way I needed. I’d never known a man to be that loyal, but he’d shown me I could have full faith in him. He’d also made it clear he wanted me to lean on him and be open with him. I’d fully intended to do that this morning – to tell him my high from yesterday had disappeared – but when he’d been turned on just from being near me, it had made me feel so good that I went along with it and shoved the rest from my mind.
Today is going to be a good day.
Half an hour later, I sat at a table in the corner of a little café I’d discovered recently. Mum had given me the day off and I was at a loss as to what to do with myself. Life had been crazy busy lately between working at the café, which was hectic at the moment, and doing night shifts at Indigo. Between the two jobs and doing my best to get through each day, I hadn’t had much time to myself. Today was a gift from my Mum and I didn’t want to waste it, but the options of how to spend my time jostled for my attention and I felt overwhelmed trying to choose.
In the end, I’d decided to find a quiet corner at the café, drink some coffee and do some journaling. Getting my thoughts out of my mind and onto paper always helped give me some clarity.
I was deeply engrossed in my thoughts when my best friend, Cassie, phoned. “I just spoke to your mum and she told me you have the day off. What are you doing?”
“I’m sitting in a café, journaling. Apart from that, I have no idea what I’m going to do.” I sighed. This should not be so hard.
She remained quiet for a moment. “You could go make some art.” She’d been quietly suggesting this to me for weeks and I had been avoiding discussing it with her. Picking up a paintbrush had been the last thing I wanted to do.
“Cassie,” I started and then stopped when she made a strange noise on the other end of the phone – it was the noise she made when she was about to argue with me. I leant my elbow on the table and rested my head against my hand. “Go on, say what you need to say.” I settled in to listen to her thoughts; she’d been far too quiet on this for far too long and I was sure she had something to say.
“Girl, you know I love you and I would do anything for you, and that’s why I have to say this to you now. I truly believe your art will help you cope with everything you’re struggling with at the moment. We were working towards selling some of your paintings and then you got pregnant, which caused you to put everything aside while you were making plans for the baby. And I get that, but art to you, Harlow, is like air to me. It’s how you used to get through your days, and I think you’ve forgotten that.”
I sat up straight and let her words circle through me. “I’m not ready to start selling my art, Cassie.” She’d been the one working towards selling my art - the thought actually struck fear through me. What if people hate it?
“I’m not saying you need to sell it; I’m just saying you need to make it. For you. For your soul.”
My psychologist had said the same thing, but she didn’t know me as well as Cassie did, so she hadn’t pushed me on it. My best friend, on the other hand, would push me. Best thing I could do right now was tell her I’d consider it. “I’ll think about it, Cass.”
“Promise me you will. In fact, promise me you’ll go home and sit in your art room while you think about it.”
“Okay, okay! I will go and sit in my room. God, you’re a pushy bitch.”
She laughed. “I swear if you don’t do this, my last resort will be telling Scott what I think. And we both know he’s bossy enough to take your ass into that room and put a paintbrush in your hand. I’m actually surprised he hasn’t done that already.”