Page 61 of For the Love of Art

“Is it because you want to be the only?”

I shrugged. “I don’t know. I don’t really know him, but at the same time, I weirdly feel so much respect for him. He can command a room with a few words, and fuck, that’s hot.”

“Sounds hot,” Frankie agreed.

“Everything a man does sounds hot to you,” Lianne said, and Frankie glared. “Isla, you don’t have to make any decisions about Nathan or Don right now.”

“Say that to the divorce papers waiting for my signature.”

“You still haven’t signed those?” Frankie asked, and Lianne smacked his arm. “What?”

“That’s not for us to ask.”

“No,” I said. “I haven’t.”

Frankie looked concerned at my revelation. “All I can say is don’t let Don get in the way of future romances.”

“I do a good enough job of that myself.” I took a sip of my wine. “Not only did I rid any chance of Nathan, but I also put my job on the line.”

“So, you do want something with Nathan?” Lianne asked.

I shrugged. “I don’t know. I don’t know! I–” I knotted my fingers.

“It’s okay not to know,” Lianne said.

“I feel silly to be attracted to a man who will hurt me.”

Lianne shrugged. “Maybe that’s what you need. You married for security. Maybe something that seems less secure is safer. Your heart is already anticipating the pain, and that feels safe.”

It sounded crazy, but it also rang true. I had already decided that Nathan would hurt me, and that felt safer than giving my heart to another Don. Someone I trusted to protect it.

“None of this matters right now,” Lianne said. She held her wine glass up. “Let’s cheers to having each other.”

We clinked glasses and then took a drink.

I looked at Lianne. “Speaking of men, did you have a second date with Andrew?”

Disappointment painted Lianne’s features. “No. He said he was busy and then has all but full-ghosted me at this point. Every once in a while, if I text, I get a one or two word response and then nothing.” She shook her head and plastered a smile I knew was fake on her face. “It doesn’t matter. No loss of mine.”

She flipped her braids over her shoulder and took another drink. Despite what she said, I could tell that Lianne was a bit bothered that Andrew never called her back.

After leaving Lianne and Frankie, I went home. Upon entering my apartment, I tossed my keys onto the coffee table, nearly hitting Hamburger.

“Oh, Dios! I’m sorry, Hamburger.”

I stroked the top of his head, and he purred his forgiveness.

I looked at the coffee table and scrunched my face. It was a mess of papers, magazines, and junk mail.

I’m such a slob.I thought to myself as I gathered the items to start organizing.

As I pulled a magazine off the pile, all the contents on the table fell, and I heard the distinct sound of glass breaking.

I groaned and knelt on the ground, carefully moving papers to find what had broken. When I moved a backdated issue of New YorkArt Life, I found the culprit. I pressed my lips together as I scanned the piece of paper that I’d been so proud to receive– my degree.

I wonder how much longer I’ll be able to use this.