The Painter (15)

She knew she was. She made heads turn, and her presence alone could make even the strongest man weak to his knees. Single men, dating, married, poor or rich all wanted her, but she went for Paul thinking he was the saint he portrayed himself to be.

She could have said no, but she was confused. He might change, she thought, but now he wasn’t going to.

He proved that over and over again. Dorothy got tired but didn’t know how to break up with him, and she was grateful he was finally gone, although she didn’t like the circumstances surrounding that fact.

“Here is your tea,” she said as she placed the cup of tea on the table before Aston in his studio. She took a few sips of hers before placing her cup on the table too. “The weather outside is beautiful today.”

“Yes. Yes, it is,” Aston confirmed, although his eyes never left Dorothy. “How about we go somewhere else while this dries?” he suggested.

“Sure.”

Together with their teas in their hands, they walked out of the studio. Instinctively