Page 74 of Cruel King
Now we’re both full of lies.
“I’m happy to see you’re drawing. I know that makes you happy.”
She stops after her second mention of happiness. That word shouldn’t be a part of any of our conversations. When it comes to Ava Sutton, I’ve felt exactly the opposite of happy more often than not.
Taking a few steps toward me, she stops and looks down at the grass before lifting her head and smiling. “Can I see what you’re drawing?”
“No.”
The answer comes out of my mouth before I can stop myself, and instantly, I regret it. I was doing so well until she asked that.
Disappointment shows on her face, filling me with more self-loathing. I try to think of something to say to take away the sting of my rejection, but my head is filled with cruelty, like always.
“Oh. Okay. I’ll leave so you can get back to your sketching.”
Every word sounds sad. I did that. I should be happy. I’ve wanted to make her feel like I do this whole time, and now that I have over and over, I’ve triumphed.
But I’m not happy seeing her like this. I’m never fucking happy when I hurt her.
She turns to walk away, so I jump up and follow her, leaving my sketchpad and pencil behind under the tree. When I catch up to her, I touch her shoulder, and it’s like lightning races through my fingers all the way up my arm.
Ava stops and turns around to face me. Christ, she’s small. Tilting her head back, she looks up into my eyes, and a flash of memory from those December days races through my mind.
“I’m sorry. I’ll show you my drawing if you still want to see it.”
A huge smile lights up her entire face, making her the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. “I would. You know I would. I love your drawings, Matthias.”
“Hang on.”
I hurry over to where my sketchbook sits and grab it before hurrying back over to her. “It’s not done yet. I had to rush to get as much of him done before he hopped away. Probably had a rabbit meeting or something to go to.”
She giggles, and I swear it feels like my heart is about to explode out of my chest when she reaches for the book and says, “Here, let me see it. Is he wearing a suit for this rabbit meeting? I wonder if they discuss carrots and lettuce at their meetings?”
I let her take the sketchbook out of my hand and watch as she looks at my rough drawing of that rabbit. Looking up at me, she says, “It’s very good, but all your drawings are so good, Matthias. I bet you have some great ones from your time in London.”
Shaking my head, I take the book from her hold. “No, not a one.”
“Really? I would have bet you drew a lot there. I mean, there’s so much to see that would be perfect for you to do.”
“No. I never sketched the whole time I was there.”
My admission brings our pleasant conversation to a screeching halt. Fuck. I never do things right when it comes to her.
We stand there in awkward silence until she says, “I’m sorry about your marriage.”
Not a single hint of cruelty or gloating can be found in her words or her tone, but still her feeling sympathy for the breakup of my sham marriage annoys me. She must have heard about that from Theo, and they probably had a good laugh between them about my wife divorcing me.
“No need to be sorry. Neither one of us wanted it to continue. We weren’t happy like others I know.”
My poorly veiled reference to her and my brother is too obvious for her to miss, and she forces a tiny smile in her discomfort that I’ve brought him up. Why, though? She should be happy to hear any mention of their bliss.
“I’m sorry anyway.”
God, I hate her feeling pity for me. I have everything a man could want in this world. Power, money, position. How dare little Ava Sutton feel bad for me?
“Speaking of sketches, how do you think your boyfriend would feel knowing I still have that nude drawing of you?” I ask as my rage and jealousy mix into a potent poison filling me until it practically oozes out of every one of my pores.
“You still have that?” she asks, but I get no sense she’s truly surprised.