Avoiding Intimacy (Avoiding #2.5)(45)

Fix her reaction to his advances. Fix the way she had confronted Adam. “It was a mistake. Plain and simple. I don’t have an excuse, not even a reason. It happened, and it was a mistake.”

“You knew I looked up to him.”

She nodded. She sucked harder on her milkshake, hoping he wouldn’t drag this out.

“I asked you to hang out with him.”

“I know,” she whispered, staring down at her milkshake, frustrated. What more did he want her to say? Did he want her to beg? She wouldn’t beg. “It was a mistake, Adam.”

It was the first time she had said his name, and at the sound of it, he seemed to soften.

“For a while, I thought you were a mistake,” he admitted.

Chyna’s heart clenched painfully. She felt like she had been shot or punched or some other terrible thing. All the air was gone from her lungs, and she felt sick at the same time. How could he even say that to her? It was so cruel.

“But, if you were a mistake, I wouldn’t want you back…and I do.”

CHAPTER 9

PRESENT

Chyna crossed through Central Park, passing the far side of the MET, as she walked back out onto 5th Avenue. She veered north against traffic toward the entrance to the colossal building. She had always thought that when she grew up she would be the president of the board at the MET. It had been a strange childhood aspiration as far as dreams went for little kids, but she had thought it ordinary then.

After realizing how much charity work she would have to do to even fathom getting on the board, she had quickly given up the thought. She didn’t want to be forced to do charity work. She would rather do it all on her own. However, she still enjoyed the opera and ballets that graced the stage.

Staring up at the enormous stone building made her feel at home. In that moment, she realized how much she had missed New York City while she had been in Milan. She adored Milan, and it would always have a special place in her heart, but nothing could compare to New York.

She couldn’t believe that only yesterday she had been the centerpiece for a major fashion show. Her reaction regarding Marco had been rash, but that was usually how she worked. Act now and think later. It wasn’t always the best approach.

She was miffed that she hadn’t received so much as a f**k off, bitch text from Marco. Not to mention, she hadn’t heard a single word from her three bitchy roommates. How could they see that she was gone and not even ask if she was alive? What great friends! Alexa would be worried sick. Well, Alexa was worried sick, but Chyna didn’t really want to share what had happened. She already knew what she would say anyway, and she had been chastising herself enough.

In all honesty, she was just ready to get back to her life. She wanted to leave Milan and Marco behind and start fresh here. Fashion was huge in New York, and she was sure she could top fashion here as easily as she had in Italy. Plus, she had all of her favorite places back, and tons of men that had probably missed her in the clubs. She hadn’t been available in a while, so it would be fun to get back into it.

She smiled faintly and took a seat on the south side of the MET stairs. That was all she wanted anyway, right? Modeling and men. She could live on that.

Leaning her elbows back on the step behind her, she waited, watching the tourists pass her by. A few stared at her as they passed, whispering to each other excitedly. Another openly ogled her, nearly running into the person in front of her. When a third group took out their cameras to snap a photo of her, she started getting confused. What was going on ? She knew that she was pretty, but total strangers didn’t normally pull out their cameras.

“Excuse me?” a giggly teenage girl said as she approached while handing her camera to her friend.

Chyna’s eyes narrowed. “Yes?”

“Can I take a picture with you? My friends will never believe that I met a supermodel!” she cried, nearly jumping up and down.

Chyna had the good sense not to let her mouth fall open or show her surprise on her face. She took the picture, and the girl thanked her before scurrying off.

What. The. Fuck. Was. Going. On?

She stood up and walked up a couple more steps to get out of the direct line of sight of the people passing by. She needed to uncover the truth of what was happening. How had four separate groups of people known who she was? Why had that girl called her a supermodel? It wasn’t a term she took lightly. Her mother was a supermodel. She resembled her mother, but come on, it was pretty obvious Chyna was twenty years younger!

Speaking of her mother… “There you are, darling,” Andrea said, walking briskly up the MET steps in her characteristic white pea coat and over- sized black sunglasses. She kissed both of her cheeks in greeting.

“Do you know what’s going on?”

Chyna demanded, skipping the introduction.

“What do you mean?” she asked coyly.

“Someone just called me a supermodel. Last I checked, the bill didn’t fit,” Chyna told her.

“Let’s go inside. It’s a bit chilly out here. I assume you wanted to ask me something else also,” she said, linking arms with Chyna and dragging her along.

Chyna relented to follow her up the stairs and inside.

“Let’s walk,” Andrea suggested.

“Can we just sit?” Chyna asked, not looking forward to this conversation. She looked forward to very few conversations with her mother. It was only the second or third time Chyna had seen her in the past couple of years, and she didn’t do family time for no reason.