Her bruising was really bad, but ice packs and Ibuprofen helped. At first, she was a little leery of being alone, but she refused to ask Max to stay with her and going to the studio to watch him with other women was out of the question. The thought to call her mother crossed her mind several times, but Story’s anger and sense of betrayal always stopped her. Max kept his office locked, so she had no access to a computer. The only books in the house were the classics and Story detested classic literature. She found the text slow and boring. After spying a pen in one of the kitchen drawers, she tore several pieces of paper towels, plopped into a stool on the counter and started sketching a skirt and blouse. Her old sketchpad with all her designs were still in a box in the closet of her mother’s guest room. She’d kept almost nothing from her apartment. Babs had been gracious enough to let Story store her belongings.
