Page 124 of For the Love of Art

Don stood, and I did, too. We exchanged an awkward hug, one that lasted a second or two too long, and then he left.

I watched out my small kitchen window as he walked down the block. I’d spent so much time imagining what Don coming back would feel like, and it was anticlimactic.

The knife in my chest twisted more as I realized what Nathan had said was true: this meeting wasn’t worth sacrificing his love.

I picked up my phone and scrolled through my contacts to Nathan. I pressed his name and waited while the phone rang.

Nathan didn’t pick up.

The following morning, after one unreturned call and text message, I was bound and determined that we would talk. If he wasn’t in his office, I was heading uptown to see him.

I opened the mammoth doors of the gallery, the manilla envelope containing signed divorce papers in hand to show Nathan how serious I was about us. My heart pounded loudly as I headed toward the offices.

Light bled from a small crack in Nathan’s door.

Thank God.

As I approached the door, rehearsing the speech in my head, I heard a female giggle.

Gloria.

All hope I had shattered into a million pieces on the floor. He couldn’t even wait a week before calling her.

“It’s incredible. That looks gorgeous on you,” Nathan said.

“Yeah, it is,” Gloria replied. “Thank you.”

I pressed my back against the wall as silence fell between the two in the office.

“So, it’s definitely over with the curator?” Gloria asked.

“Isla, and yes,” Nathan confirmed.

Knife twisting further.

“So, the next art opening?”

“I’m all yours if you need, but–”

I couldn’t listen anymore.

I made it to my office before the tears started to spill down my cheeks.

It was over between us.

I somehow managed to get through the day and make it to the weekend. I spent the weekend catching up on laundry and Netflix while living on coffee and ramen, a mixture that never meant to leave college campuses.

I tried to contact Lianne, but she wasn’t ready to talk to me. As hard as it was, I knew I needed to give her the space.

Frankie had stopped by to make sure I was okay with a box of donuts that served as my Sunday dinner. Unfortunately, he brought them Saturday, and based on how stale they were, he had cheaped out and bought the day old donuts, so they sat in my stomach like a rock all night.

All that led to this morning. I planned to call Don at some point to let him know I’d sent the divorce papers to my lawyers Friday afternoon, but I wasn’t looking forward to the conversation.

I looked myself over in the mirror. I was wearing a black sheath dress I had worn a million times. I had just started to think about expanding my wardrobe for work, but I knew it was only a matter of time before I was back at the cheese shop.

I gave Hamburger a quick pat on the head before leaving the apartment. When I opened the door to the street, I nearly smacked a woman’s face.

“Oh, I’m sorr–” My mouth went dry. The woman I almost hit wasn’t some stranger. It was Marissa.