Page 120 of For the Love of Art

“Kind of.”

“Isla.” Lianne looked annoyed. “Please tell me you signed them and gave them to him.”

I looked down at my fingers. “He asked me not to, so I didn’t.”

“Mother fucker!” Lianne yelled.

“He told me he loved me still.”

“And you told him to shove his I love you up his ass, right?” Lianne eyes bored into me.

“Not exactly. I didn’t sign the papers, and I invited him to my new place,” I confessed.

Lianne and Frankie let out exasperated groans.

“Fifteen years, you guys! How do I just walk away without hearing him out?”

“The way he did when you didn’t perform like the Porshe across the street!” Frankie exclaimed.

“Huh?” Lianne looked at Frankie and then back at me. “What do you mean perform? He cheated on her.”

“Perform. You know. I mean, look at the way she dresses. She obviously sucks in bed,” Frankie tried to cover his tracks.

“Jesus, Frankie.” I shook my head. “Don cheated on me because I was infertile and couldn’t handle another miscarriage.”

Lianne’s features softened. “I didn’t realize things were so bad after your last one.”

“There were more that you didn’t know about. A lot more,” I confessed.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Lianne looked hurt. “I would’ve been there for you.”

“I came to the shop on Tuesday to tell you and Frankie, but you weren’t here. When I heard about Andrew, I didn’t want to bother you.”

“Didn’t want to bother me? Except that you’ve been–” She put her fingers up in quotations– “Bothering me–” she put them back down– “For over eight months with all this. You left out a very big piece of information that might’ve changed how I treated you. I look like a bitch for telling you to move on.”

“You’re not; I would never say that about you,” I said. “If anyone’s a bitch it’s me. I should’ve told you a long time ago.”

“Yeah! You’re right! We’re supposed to be best friends. We tell each other shit even when it sucks!” she exclaimed.

I looked at Frankie, and he gave me a small, encouraging nod. He knew what I needed to tell her.

“Speaking of things that suck, I need to tell you something about Andrew.”

Lianne looked concerned. “What do you need to tell me?”

“He’s dating Dori, the art dealer that works for me,” I strung the words together so quickly I wasn’t sure they made sense.

“He’s dating someone else?” she asked, not masking her hurt.

I nodded.

“And you knew?”

I nodded again.

Tears fell down her cheeks. “Fuck, Isla. Don may still be the asshole in your story, but you’re the one in mine.”

She whipped her apron over her head, grabbed her purse, and stormed out of the shop.