Free Because You Are Mine Part VIII: Because I Am Yours by Beth Kery

in her ears.
    “Meet me later. After the shoot. Please?” he added when she just continued to stare in the vicinity of his collarbone.
    “I . . . I don’t know what . . . why . . .”
    “I understand,” he said quietly. He released her wrist and touched her cheek until she looked at him. “I’m not sure I know, either. But I want to figure it out. Meet me at the statue? The studio statue? After this craziness is done? Just give me enough time to get out of this getup and shower, and I’ll be there. I just want to talk to you. Please, Joy.”
    Something squeezed at her heart a little when he entreated her. In the distance, she heard her uncle’s voice as he approached.
    “I haven’t got time right now. You’ll have to handle it,” Seth called out, as if he was walking away from whomever had interrupted him.
    “Joy?” the stranger said sharply.
    She looked into his clear aquamarine eyes and nodded once.
    “Say it. Say you’ll be there.”
    “I’ll be there,” she whispered.
    * * *
    Six hours later, she checked her watch yet again.
    He wasn’t coming.
    She should have known better than to come herself.
    The photo shoot had been completed now for almost three hours. She’d kept herself busy in Seth’s studio during the shoot itself. Seth had returned after a while in order to oversee prosthetic removal. Joy had helped him, but she hadn’t caught sight of the man she’d promised to meet.
    She’d been waiting by the United Studios’ statue of the seven muses for long enough. There was no way the man was still occupied. Not when almost everyone else on the set had long since showered and left. He’d stood her up, plain and simple.
    She stood from one of the benches that lined the little park at the north studio entrance. One of the bronze muses caught her eye.
    Joy lowered her head and walked toward the gate. She didn’t need the muse’s somber stare to know it was time for her to leave the whimsy of fantasyland and deal with the reality of a harsh world.
    * * *