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I turn to him and chuckle. "We both know I didn't want those shares. You gave them to me because you felt guilty. Just go." I hold back the urge to bring up his multiple affairs again but I'm in no mood to rehash the past.
He stops briefly before stepping out of the apartment. His blue eyes lock on my face. "I did it because I was scared, Ivy. I loved you so much it scared me."
I hold back the instinct to laugh. "It doesn't matter anymore."
After closing the door, I feel the tears instantly fill my eyes. Damn Mark. Damn him.
***
"You're not going to believe who came to see me last night." I hand Liz one of the cold lemonades I picked up for us on my way to her studio.
She takes a long drink from the straw. "Is there any sugar in this at all?" Her brow furrows as she purses her lip.
"Half-sweet." I take a drink from my own. "We're already sweet enough."
She ignores my attempt at humor. "It's too sour." She pushe
s it aside and turns back to the canvas she's working on.
"Aren't you going to ask who?"
"Who what?" she says with her back to me.
I sigh, dismayed that this is becoming very anti-climactic. "Who came to my apartment after I left Brighton's."
"Just tell me." She turns, the paint brush, brightly adorned with blue, waving in her right hand.
"Mark."
I watch the brush fall and hit her stark white shoe. I leap forward in an effort to help.
"Rats!" Liz yells at she bends down to pick up the brush.
I laugh in reflex to her reaction. "Rats?" I grab the brush from her hand, playfully waving it in the air. "This is more like a fuck moment. You've ruined your shoe."
We both look down. We're standing toe-to-toe now and it's blatantly obvious that Liz's white flats cost much more than the worn out sneakers I've matched with my jeans and t-shirt.
"They're just shoes, sugar." She reaches to cradle my face in her hands. "How was it? It must have been hard."
I cover her right hand with my left briefly before stepping away. "It was fine. He wanted to talk about June and pick up the letter."
"How's June?" Her voice rings with genuine concern.
"I saw her this morning. She's fine. Just as feisty as ever." I smile remembering my brief visit hours earlier with Mark's mother. "She's getting over pneumonia. She said she'll be home in a few days."
Relief washes over Liz's face. "That's great news. How's Mark?"
"Mark is Mark." I take the brush to the sink. I'm hopeful that Liz won't press for more.
"Did he talk about anything else?" There's a suggestion of real anxiety in her voice.
"No." I turn around, shaking my head. "He didn't."
"Did he talk about his feelings?" Liz's gaze falls to the floor.
"He tried." I sigh heavily. "He also mentioned that he's throwing a party at his new building next Thursday night. It sounds like another one of those ridiculous lavish parties with all his rich friends."
She raises a brow. "Are you going?"
