Stealing the Heart of Mr. Steele

[Cordelia]

"You still have two weeks until the show, Cordy! Make sure you get some fresh air today!"

"No promises!" I call after Tilly as she leaves for the office.

I am so grateful to have a friend like Mathilda. Not only is she giving me a place to work and live, but she cares enough about me to make sure that I do basic things to take care of myself-like exercise and eat.

But I cannot stop working, not until I finish these patterns. I have two weeks to make this line perfect. before presenting it at the LA Market and Fashion Expo. There will be vendors from all over the world present and a show like this can launch a career. Entering my collection into this show was expensive, eating up most of what remained of my limited savings.

Pulling a pencil from behind my ear, I lean forward and begin sketching out a shape when I hear my phone ring with a tone I haven't heard in several weeks.

It's my mysterious anonymous unlisted friend.

The message contains a series of images, all of them showing Atlas and Sydney at some weird rodeo lunch. He is wearing a white cowboy hat, a large belt buckle, and something I've never seen on him before - blue jeans. In all the years I've known him I have never seen him in anything other than a suit.

He's also wearing a huge smile as he looks down at Sydney who looks up at him like she is staring up into the face of a god.

It figures. I leave him and he learns how to have a good time.

After spending several minutes scrolling back and forth through the pictures I decide I've wasted enough time. He looks genuinely happy. And Sydney is absolutely glowing.

I text the anonymous number with a simple message. "Good for him."

And I mean it. I really do wish him well. Even if it does hurt my heart a little to see him moving on.

Looking at the pile of loose paper on the table, I'm feeling less motivated to work. I decide to go for a run- instead. Maybe moving my body will help clear my head and give me the motivation I need to find new inspiration for my work.

The loft is conveniently close to a tree-lined greenway. I've been meaning to go for run along it for weeks, but today is the first day I've laced my sneakers to give it a try.All content is property © NôvelDrama.Org.

It is crazy how quickly my life has changed since I walked out into the rain three weeks ago. I've only been divorced for a week, and I'm already starting a new life. And by the look of those photos, so is Atlas. Sometimes at night, I wake up from a dream of the two of us mak Atlas probably doesn't even realize that he took my virginity that night. He never cared enough to ask.

I don't see the gentleman in the bright orange top until it is too late to avoid colliding. I land with a solid. thunk as I hit the ground, my water bottle flying out of my hand.

"Ah hell, are you okay?" the other runner splutters as he stumbles to his face and holds his hand out to help me up.

"I am so sorry. It was all my fault..."

"Not at all," he laughs. "I know better than to check my phone while running," he points to his phone with a now shattered screen.

I reach down to pick it up and as I hand it to him. As we make eye contact I recognize him but it takes a moment for my befuddled brain to remember his name "Jude? I mean, Dr. Davis."

He chuckles. "When I'm not at work, you can just call me Jude."

r just to

We fall into an easy pace as we run together. I'm certain that he was going spend time talking, but I don't mind. It was nice to have company.

It turns out that we both needed to exit at the same trailhead, so we agreed to run together for a while longer, or at least until one of us made it to our doorstep. Strangely enough that happens at the exact same time. "You're my neighbor!" I laugh, bending over to catch my breath. "How did I not notice before now?"

"I'm seldom home," he admits as he unlocks his door. "I'd invite you in but the place is a mess."

"Me too," I think of the disaster I left in the studio. "Are you an artist too?" I am impressed. Where does he find the time to do all these different things?

"Of sorts," he grins. "But you'll never see my artwork in museums. I keep the studio space for a laboratory as I experiment a bit with new techniques. But I like to think that science is an art form if you do it properly." We say our goodbyes and agree to meet again soon for another run. "And a real cup of coffee!" he insists.

Smiling, I step inside. I can't wait until tomorrow.