Chapter 7
End
I frowned, my finger hovering over the End Call button.
“Don’t hang up yet!” Declan’s voice burst back through the line, urgent, as if he’d and we’re getting married.”
“Congratulations,” I said, my voice flat and expressionless.
read my mind. “I just need to say a few things. Sisi
There was a short silence on the other end of the line; Declan sounded thrown by my lack of reaction.
“She’s pregnant,” he finally managed, the words coming out heavy, like he’d had to force them free.
I raised an eyebrow that was unexpected. Apparently Sierra had pulled out all the stops to secure him
“Well, congratulations again. Double congratulations, actually.” My tone stayed icy.
“Evie!” My calm seemed to set him off. “You really have nothing else to say?”
I almost laughed at his nerve. “What, Declan? That if you hadn’t turned me down, I’d be the one pregnant and walking down the aisle with you? Give me a break.”
His logic was shameless enough to be ridiculous. I leaned back and let my voice sharpen.
“We went on one blind date, and we ran into each other a few times. Do you really think this is the time to be saying this?”
“…” He got tripped up by my words.
“And don’t call me again.” I cut him off. “Your wedding, your child none of it’s my business. So, congratulations, I hope you both have a wonderful life.”
I hung up and blocked his number without a second thought.
Across the table, Julian looked up from his work and met my eyes. “Him again?”
“Yeah.” I set my paintbrush down with a frustrated huff.
“Don’t let someone like that get under your skin.” He stood and came around to peer at the canvas. “The lighting here is great. Nice work”
His steady voice settled on me like a balm and cooled the irritation that had been building inside my chest. I found myself asking before I could stop it, “Julian why: are you so good to me?”
He shifted his gaze from the painting to my face,
His eyes were deep and unreadable, like a still lake. After a long pause he said quietly, “Maybe because I see in you a kind of regret F don’t want to face myself”
I wasn’t sure what he meant, and he didn’t elaborate. He only gave a small nod toward the canvas, “Focus on your work. The portfolio deadline’s coming up.”
I nodded, pushed the question aside, and got back to painting.
Days flew by
When the Rhode Island School of Design application portal opened, I filled everything out methodically and hit Submit with my hands steady.
Thad polished my portfolio until every piece felt ready.
After I sent it off, I looked out at the clear blue sky and felt a weight lift off my shoulders. Win or lose, I had given it everything. No regrets.
The admission results wouldn’t be out for months, so I stayed busy talding freelance design jobs.
Julian introduced me to a client – a high–end dessert brand looking for fresh packaging – and I spent a week crafting a sleek, elegant. proposal. Julian came with me to the pitch.
The client loved it. They signed on the spot and handed over a generous deposit.
Holding that first paycheck–money I had earned with my own skill–sent a thrill through me that felt like a firework going off in my chest.
That night I insisted on treating Julian to dinner. We chose a quiet French place with soft lighting and cozy booths.
“Julian, thanks so much for this,” I said, lifting my glass. I meant it.
He tapped his glass against mine, a faint smile at the corner of his mouth. “You did the work, Evie. I just opened the door.”
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