Page 122 of For the Love of Art

CHAPTER

TWENTY-TWO

The following evening, I paced my apartment.

Work sucked. Nathan either worked from home or the gallery uptown. Either way, I didn’t see him. Any communication had to go through Dori, a lesson I learned when I e-mailed him and received a reply that had Dori cc’d on it. I’m sure it was him keeping things professional until he let me go from my position.

Hamburger jumped on the couch and mewed loudly. I reached out and scratched his ears. He purred against my hand.

“You nervous too, buddy?”

Hamburger responded by pressing his head harder against my hand.

He mewed again before making a circle and lying down in the corner of the couch. I wished I could do the same. I was exhausted from the last few days.

My phone buzzed, and I looked down to see a message from Don saying that he’d arrived.

I walked down the stairs from my apartment and opened the door. Don held a beautiful bouquet and an affectionate smile.

Fuck.

This was not the Don I left.

“Hey, Isla.” He handed me the flowers.

“Hi. Thank you.” I moved so he could come in. “I’m just up the stairs.”

We walked up the stairs in silence, and then I opened the door to my apartment. Don stepped in, and immediately, his face dropped.

He turned to me as I placed the flowers on my coffee table. “Did I really leave you with no options?”

I shrugged. “There was plenty of money, but considering I didn’t make much at the cheese shop, I needed to spread it as far as I could if I wanted to stay in Manhattan.”

He nodded. “I see.”

I rubbed my hands together nervously. “Can I offer you some coffee or tea? Oh, wait. I’m out of filters, and the only tea I have is herbal, which I know you hate. I have water.”

Don shook his head. “No. I’m okay.”

“I might have a beer. Or something fermented in my fridge. I haven’t cleaned it out in a while.”

Don chuckled and shook his head again. “I’m really okay. I just wanted to see you. Be with you. Talk.”

That was a lot. I kind of wish we drank whatever was fermented in my fridge.

“Sit.” I gestured to the couch.

He sat down on one end, and I sat on the other. He didn’t seem to like the distance between us, his face falling slightly.

He cleared his throat and opened his mouth to say something but stopped and did a double take when he noticed a box under my coffee table. He reached for it, pulling it out. I knew what had made him look twice. The two photos on the top were from our wedding.

“You took these?” Don asked.

I nodded. “Yeah.”

He placed the box on the coffee table and began to search through it. He smiled as he pulled out various photos, and before I knew it, we were laughing and reminiscing about the life we once had.

Don pointed at a picture of us at the top of a dusty, rocky peak. “I remember this hike,” Don said, running a finger along my arm wrapped tightly around him in the photo. “It was in Sedona.”