Bye-Bye Jerk, Hello Mr. Right by Rosie Steppe

Chapter 589

I thought about it for a second, then strolled over to the bookshelf, grabbed a random book, and flopped down into the lounge chair to read. I stayed there for what felt like forever, lost in the quiet, until Lizzy called me down for dinner.

1

"You're even prettier in person than in the paintings," Lizzy said, just as I was about to take a bite of my food. I froze, fork mid air, totally caught off guard. "Paintings? What paintings?"

She smiled. "Mr. Johnston's paintings. All of them are of you. They're in the studio upstairs."

Wait What?

When I went up to the terrace earlier, I'd passed the second floor, but I hadn't bothered checking any rooms I had no idea there was even a studio up there, And the craziest part? Wayne points? I'd never known that.

We grew up together before he went abroad, and as far as I knew, art was not his thing. Did he pick up painting in the last few years? And he's been painting... me?

I glanced over at Lizzy, busy in the kitchen. She had to be messing with me, right? I mean-maybe she couldn't tell us apart, like how sometimes I struggle with distinguishing some faces.

But then again, the curiosity hit me like a wave. So, I put my fork down, barely touched my food, and decided to check it out.

I had no clue which room was the studio, so I just started opening doors, one by one.

Wayne's bedroom. A study. A workout room. A walk-in closet... Finally, I found a door that was locked with a keypad.

to

when

but I didn't have the code to get in. I

wasn't his birthday... then what could it

when we were close, he was always so quiet, and I was

abroad, and we barely kept in touch. I really didn't know anything about him

full of paintings of me. Could the code be

after a beat, the door unlocked with

the usual thrill of cracking the code, a weird tightness gripped my

unexpected. Wayne's feelings for me

of the doors we were

Just like

yet every sign

josing the Johnson family

fying everytime of

of Summe

greetings

pitting on the mesos

They est the mente

atory

at the tones to te