I recover fast and step into her modern office without a speck of dust. “I swear, Bette, I had no idea he was going to do that. I told him last night. He had given me a ticket to see a premiere with him in LA that same weekend.”

“Would you rather go to that?” She holds up the mirror to her face and puts on her red lipstick, puckering her lips.

“No!” I screech.

She pins her eyes directly on me.

“Bette, I’m grateful for this opportunity, and I’m not about to ruin my chances.” I panic, and right about now, I’m so spitting mad at Davis that I’d haul off and hit him, if he were in front of me.

“Good, because I have the morning show for the local station coming in for a segment on you.” She smiles.

Although it goes against everything I believe in, I want to fall to my knees and endlessly thank her.

“Thank you, Bette. That’s amazing.”

“Don’t thank me yet. There’s a catch.”

“Anything.”

“Todd has to be with you. I only want pictures of him, naked, to be on display.” She clasps her hands in front of her.

I guess my whole plan on having Todd dressed in a few would be a no-go, especially after the stunt Davis pulled.

“I’ll call him right now. Actually, is there any way I can get off a little early today? I’m working on Hender’s showcase invoice right now.”

“Is this for more pictures?”

“Yes. Todd and I both have the afternoon off.”

“Of course. Bring me what you have. I have sole decision-making on what will be hanging for the show, Amelia.”

“Of course, Bette. Thank you again.”

“You’re welcome. You know me. I like to help the starving artists. Please tell your boyfriend that I run Art on Wells, and I don’t care who he is.”

“I promise. I’ll call him now.”

“After Todd, I presume.”

“Yes. Todd first.” The irony of those words leaving my mouth makes my heart rate speed up because, lately, he’s been first.

Me: Hey. Can you come on Friday morning to Art on Wells for some publicity? The local morning show will be here.

Todd: Of course. Just let me know whatever you need. I’ll always be here for you.

Me: Thank you. Friday morning, and do your push-ups, big boy. Those Facebook likes will go through the roof.

Todd: The ladies love my pics, but I fear that if you’re with me, they’ll figure out they can’t have me.

Me: Funny. See you at one.

Todd: Meet you at the park.

Me: :)

After I get Todd handled, I call Davis. What he did completely overstepped any bounds. Like usual, I get his voicemail. Just hearing his voice aggravates me.

“Hey, Davis. It’s Lia. Um . . . Bette just came in. Er . . . give me a call, okay?”

Weak, Lia.

I should have been meaner. I should have gotten to the point and shown him that I don’t appreciate him nosing his way into my business.

I flip through the book of CDs containing all my pictures. There’s a picture of Todd etched in my memory from four months ago. I search out the approximate time I remember snapping the photo and insert the CD into my laptop. I grab a Diet Coke from the fridge and begin sorting through two thousand photos. I forgot how much I’ve photographed Todd over the past few months.

That day, Tati was gone, and our apartment was quiet. I was fumbling through every step, having to fix the lighting the whole time. I felt like it was my first shoot, and my hands trembled so badly. My camera wasn’t properly in focus.

Then, in one moment, everything came together, as though someone else were controlling my hands and vision. Todd sat in the middle of my floor, staring off into space, with a gray backdrop. I snapped the shot and instantly knew how profound the picture would become, even if it were only me who saw the handsome man looking lost but found all at the same time. As though he were in a world of chaos, but he was calm, like he had found exactly what he’d wanted.

I come across the sequence that’s been jogging my memory. Double-clicking on the picture, it pops up across my screen, and I’m not sure why I never noticed it before. Todd isn’t looking into space. His head is turned in the opposite direction of the camera, but he’s staring at the camera from the corner of his eyes.

How did I miss this?

His eyes are clear, bearing truth, as though he’s attempting to tell the camera his secret. My mouth drops open with the realization that it’s not the camera he’s staring at. It’s me.

My stomach flutters the more I intently dig into every aspect of the picture. The thought that Todd has been yearning for me all these months brings an excitement to me I didn’t know existed for him until recently.

My phone rings, disturbing me from my thoughts, and I jump in my seat. As my phone vibrates along the table, I struggle to get a good grip on the small black metal.

“Hello?”

“Hey, beautiful. I saw you called. I just got out of the shower.”

I’m so consumed with staring at the picture of Todd that I almost forget why I called Davis in the first place.

“Davis.” I sigh.

“I know. I’m sorry.” He sounds genuine.

I’m confused as to why he did it. “Bette isn’t happy, and she said she almost pulled me.”

“She wouldn’t do that, Lia. It was selfish of me, and I am sorry. Just know I did it because I want to see you. I hate that I’m stuck here for a month.”

I smile from the sound of sincerity and caring pouring out of him. Too much has been coming to the surface since he left.

“Davis, we need to talk.”

“I said I was sorry. Do you not forgive me?”

“I understand you wanting to see me, but I’ve worked my ass off to get this showcase. I’m hurt that you tried to change the date. A movie premiere that you have a cameo in isn’t more important than my show.”

The whole talk-off-your-chest feels good. I never did it with Cam until the day I broke up with him.

“I really didn’t mean it like that. Lia, I know you’re talented enough to get a show again. That’s why I thought I’d ask.”

“It wasn’t your decision to make.” My blood boils. I refuse to let another man control me.

“I know. I’m really sorry. I felt like an ass as soon as Bette told me off.”

“You should have.”

“I said I did.” Even over the phone, I hear him speaking through clenched teeth. “What do you want from me?”

“What about Heather? There are rumors going around CHOPs.” I might as well go all the way. Let’s air this shit out.

“I hate fucking rumors.” A loud crash echoes through my phone. “Are you asking me if I fucked her?” His voice escalates.

I pull my phone away from my ear. My eyes stare at the Don’t disturb the art plaque right in front of my desk as I wish I could go off on him right now.

“I know you fucked her. I’m just wondering why you lied to me,” I seethe, looking toward Bette’s office doors to double-check that she can’t hear me. In all honesty, I’m assuming he fucked her.

“It was a drunken night a year ago. It meant nothing to me.”

“It obviously meant something to her. She was upset that we were dating.”

Him not caring about a woman he slept with scares me. How invested is he really with me? How quickly will I be forgotten?

“Were?”

“Were what?”

“You said we were dating. Are we not anymore?”

“It was a slip, but after this exchange, I’m wondering if we should be done.”

“Listen, Lia, I like you, and I don’t think I’ve given you any reason not to believe me.”

“Except for lying about sleeping with Heather and calling my boss to pull some strings you feel entitled to.”

“I don’t have time for this, Lia. I’m late for dinner. Why don’t I call you tonight, and we can talk more if you want?”

Here I go again with another guy who doesn’t put me first on his priority list, another guy who thinks his world is better than mine.