Love Abstract (The Art of Falling Book 2) Read Online Free Page B

decision.”
    Phoenix leans over with a small smile and kisses my cheek. “Thank you for understanding, Ivy.”
    I’m not quite sure I do understand, but I’m trying to. Just as I’m about to ask him how he and Hailey fell into the same circle of friends, a petite blonde walks through the door, lifting her sunglasses on top of her head. She stops in her tracks and looks at us questionably through slitted eyes.
    “James informed you there’s no food allowed in the gallery, did he not?”
    Well, hello to you, too. Glad to see we ’ re off on the right foot.
    “You must be Farrah,” I say, pushing myself to my feet and rushing over to introduce myself to her formally. “I’m Ivy.” I reach out my hand and she takes it cautiously. Her handshake isn’t nearly as firm as I’d expect it to be. “And no, he didn’t mention it to me. I just assumed it was fine since the shows here are catered. It won’t happen again.”
    I look back to Phoenix and he wraps up what’s left of our food and stuff it back into the bag.
    She looks at me and embarrassment flashes in her eyes. “Sorry, I’m usually not this rude. I’m just not having the best day. My boyfriend left the country this morning and I won’t see him for a few months. I just picked up the paperwork from Coulter’s studio,” Farrah explains, shoving a stack of papers into my hands. “I couldn’t get out of there fast enough. He had a collection of antique doll heads nailed to the wall. No bodies. Just the heads. And on top of it all, he hoards junk. Literal piles of junk that should be thrown away. The guy really creeps me out.”
    Farrah shudders and the hairs on my arm stand on end.
    “Maybe it’s art?” Phoenix says, attempting to put her in place.
    “ Or … maybe it really is just trash?” Farrah retorts as she examines her nails in what I can only presume is boredom.
    “Well, regardless, he sounds lovely.” I try to be optimistic, but these details paired with his alleged penchant for partying send all sorts of red flags flying in my mind. I’ve spent the last twenty some odd years dealing with the inexcusable antics of Genevieve and my mom. Certainly I can handle whatever theatrics this guy throws at me. But if he’s anything remotely like my experience with Dane Wright, this shouldn’t be bad at all.
    “Yeah, good luck with that.” Farrah drops Brock’s signed contract on the desk and heads out the door.
    Then again, maybe not.

 
     
    I’M HAVING ONE OF THOSE days.
    You know the kind—the world is out to get you, nothing is in its right place, and the only thing you want is to be left the hell alone.
    For whatever reason, Phoenix’s secrecy is really just pissing me off today. And with the seed of Hailey now firmly planted deep inside, I feel like a grenade just waiting to detonate. But instead, I’m here on the couch with Phoenix, his head resting in my lap. I should be content in this moment, but I’m more irritated than anything else. He keeps laughing at the television, but I couldn’t even tell you what he’s watching. I’m mindlessly lost in my own thoughts, playing the tortuous game of what if .
    I can’t shake this feeling that there’s something he’s not telling me.
    What if there’s someone else?
    What if we’re not going to work out?
    What if he feels obligated to stay with me, not out of love but out of some misplaced responsibility?
    And why the hell is Hailey still calling?
    Phoenix rolled out of bed last night around three or so. This is the fourth time this week he’s done that. I couldn't fall asleep after he left, and I couldn’t bring myself to go after him. Instead, I listened to the TV through the wall. Nineties sitcoms are a popular choice for him in the wee hours of the morning. I focus on the screen for a moment and notice that’s what he’s watching right now. It’s the Friends episode with the naked guy and the giant poking device. I’ve seen this one no less than twenty times to be exact.