This Is Me (Cover Girlfriend, Book Three)

Episode Sixteen

Terri

*Two Days Later*

“He canceled the rest of the week?”

Aliya sits in a chair kitty-corner to the couch I’m on, in her apartment, a cup of coffee in each of our hands.  Except hers is paused halfway to her mouth; face easily showing her confusion.

I take a sip of my own.

When Mr. Rickerts had called me this morning to tell me, I’d decided to check in on her.  Because she’s close; one of the few people I know so far away from Italy.  And no part of me wanted to spend the day alone.

“Yes.  He didn’t tell me why; say much of anything other than that he was grateful for my help.  That his father loved the painting, and he’d be in touch later.”

I appreciate the break, truth be told.  I don’t much care for the why’s.  Especially after the look his father had used to slay me with when the painting had been revealed for all to see.  His tone and words of compliment in complete opposition with the hatred of his gaze.

But Aliya’s brows furrow.  She sits forward to place her cup on a side table.  Stares at me, “That’s not normal.”

She stands and moves into the kitchen.

I’m curious now as she comes back into view with her phone next to her ear.

She pulls it away with a glare; whispered, “Fucking Carlos.”  Hangs up, and dials a different number.

“Hey, Tonya.  I was wondering if you’ve seen C.R. today.”  Pause.  “Lovely.  Thank you.”

She drops her arm; face full of concern.

“This isn’t normal.  His secretary just told me he’s taking the week off.  C.R. does not take off from work.  Ever; as long as I’ve known him.  Not even.  Wait.  Except for.”  She stops as wonder blooms on her face.

“No.  Way.”

Before I can ask what she’s talking about, she’s got the phone up and to her ear.

“Meghan.  Hi.  Aliya here.  Is C.R. there?”  Nods of her head as she listens to whatever she hears.  Then, “Did he leave with a short guy?  Thick beard, maybe.  Looks like the guy from the-  Yup.  Thanks a lot.”

She hangs up, and begins to laugh until tears fall down her face.

I’m completely at a loss what just happened.

Attempting to get some answers, I tentatively ask, “Aliya?”

She raises her eyes to mine, smile wide, “He’s with cooties man.”

Words that punch my gut; steal my breath.

“You’ve got to be joking.”

Because she can’t be serious.

He’s with Lincoln.  Because of my painting?

A shake of her head.

“I can’t know for sure until we go visit.  But I’m telling you; would bet on it.  C.R. is with cooties man, at his house.”

I get up and walk past her to put my cup, still half full, on the counter in the kitchen.

This can’t be happening.

I’d thought for sure Lincoln would never forgive either of us.  Had, in some ways, put aside my feelings for him because I knew, in some part of me, that even if Mr. Rickerts chased him, Lincoln would use that temper and rage of his to push him away too.