I kicked him out. Well, not actually. I pulled away, and he got the message. Then he invited me to his studio again, of course. I accepted. Only a fool with dreams of becoming a popular artist would turn down an opportunity to be featured in Damien’s work. I got there around noon. The receptionist looked like she had seen a ghost when I walked in. Then a sad expression passed over her face. I nodded at her in greeting as I walked past toward Damien’s studio. I knocked once before going in. “Finally. I’ve been missing your presence,” he said as soon as I stepped inside. I thought the kiss would have made things awkward, but it didn’t. He pulled me into a tight hug. He looked drained, like he hadn’t slept all night. “You good?” I asked. “I wasn’t. But now that you’re here, I’m better,” he said and pressed a kiss to my cheek. There were five empty coffee cups on the table. “You drank all that?” I asked. “Yes. I stayed up all night. Look what I did,” he said, pointing at the new
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