Avoiding Intimacy (Avoiding 2.5)

They could have worked through it. Other people did it! What made them so different?

Was it just a way out? Did he want to be rid of her? This would be the easiest way for him to do that, if that was what he wanted. But, that didn’t explain his behavior. He didn’t have to come to Atlanta with her for Alexa’s graduation.

He didn’t have to be so sweet and caring.

He didn’t have to have beautiful, passionate sex with her.

He had done all those things and left her anyway. So, maybe the reasoning in the long run didn’t matter. Regardless, he had come to the same conclusion. He had struck the final blow.

She pulled her hands away from her eyes and saw that they were wet. A sob escaped her, and she bent forward over her knees, tears streaming down her face.

She hiccupped, pain racking her body as she shook with the force of her despair.

Why was she crying? Why was she crying? Why the hell was she crying?

She couldn’t cry over him. She didn’t cry over boys. This was ridiculous. She hadn’t cried the last time they had broken up…well, not until she had called Lexi and realized the extent of the situation.

Why couldn’t this be like last time?

Why couldn’t she find the anger instead of this pain that had locked itself away in her heart and was slowly eating away at it from the inside out?

CHAPTER 11

PRESENT

Two weeks.

Two whole weeks.

That’s how long it took before Marco pulled the advertisement with her picture on it. It was long enough to make her truly feel the weight of what she had done, but it wasn’t long enough to make it look like a mistake on his end.

It was strange walking the streets of her home again. She had already gotten used to people staring at her, trying to place her face, or pointing out an advertisement as she walked by. The ad had made her an overnight celebrity, a constant reminder of what she had left behind in Milan. Whatever Marco’s original intentions were, the display was now only laced with regret.

She turned the corner toward Barneys and came face to face with Ravenna. She looked exquisite in painted on black pants, an olive button-up shirt, and black peep- toe heels. Her red hair was pulled off of one side of her face, and she managed to wear blood red lipstick perfectly.

Chyna knew that the picture wasn’t as good as her own. Ravenna was second best, a backup, and it showed. Probably not to most eyes, but Chyna knew. She had been there when this picture was taken in the middle of the summer at a mock studio outside of the city. Marco had been in a foul mood, yelling at everyone. He hadn’t liked a single picture that day. Guess he had changed his mind.

She knew what he was getting at. She was replaceable. He didn’t need her.

Even on his worst day when nothing was going right, he could capture something fitting enough to plaster all over New York City…without her.

She heard him loud and clear. Loud.

And. Clear.

Asshole.

Chyna passed the sign, ignoring the woman who commented on how pretty the model was, and walked down the street toward Madison Avenue. Tourists flitted around outside of Barneys. Some were walking purposefully with their cell phone plastered to their ear while others were moseying along, occasionally snapping photos. Why they were taking a picture of a department store was beyond her. Didn’t people have department stores at home?

Granted this was Barney’s, but still.

She pushed past a crowd of people debating whether or not to go inside and she walked through the doors toward the elevator. The elevator deposited her on the ninth floor, and she strolled into Fred’s for her afternoon luncheon.

The hostess asked for her name, and Chyna was thankful that she had a reservation. The restaurant was packed.

She never came here on Saturday afternoons, but some exceptions could be warranted. This was definitely one of them.

She followed the hostess to her table and took a seat. The past two weeks had gone by painfully slow, and she was ready to get back to modeling. She had gone to Milan to prove to herself that she could do something great, and she had done it.

Modeling was something she was great at.

She had never known how much she would love it though.

She tried to act like she was going to move on and do some other mindless activity like she always did. Alexa was seeing through her act though. She was thankful that she had a friend who would give her space and let her deal with her problems on her own. After Chyna had landed on her doorstep when she returned from Milan, Alexa had been giving her the time she needed. She wanted to help, but they had known each other long enough to know that Alexa needed the push, and Chyna rejected it.

She shrugged the thoughts away, wanting to concentrate on the present.

What mattered now was moving forward.

She couldn’t change what had happened with Marco—that she had left him…and that note.

How could she have left that? No . She wouldn’t regret it. That note was perfection. It was something he needed to hear, and it was something she needed him to know. She wasn’t going to be tossed aside. Even though he was playing his card by pulling down her picture, it was the only card he had.

She had left him, after all.

Her thoughts vanished as her quarry walked through the restaurant entrance.

Cassandra Corsa was a slight woman with more style than anyone Chyna had ever met. A brown dress tied around her neck, cinching in her dangerously slim waist, and pleated slightly into a perfect A-line just past her knees. She wore white peep- toe heels and a white signature Corsa purse. Her hair was parted on the right and pulled back into a low bun at the nape of her neck, and she wore accentuating makeup. Chyna couldn’t have guessed her age if she had tried.

Cassandra was a woman who knew the inside and outside of beauty. She could take something ordinary and create something beyond what you could have ever expected. Her family line was made of designers, and she had been in Corsa designs since she was an infant. The Corsa name carried weight and power in the world that Chyna wanted back into, and Chyna wanted nothing more than to use that to her advantage. Plus, she liked Cassandra.

The hostess smiled at Cassandra and walked her back to Chyna’s table. Chyna stood gracefully, leaning forward, as she kissed both of Cassandra’s cheeks.

“Good to see you, dear,” Cassandra said with a smile.

“And, you as well. I’m fortunate that you are in New York this weekend,”

Chyna said, mirroring her smile.