Page 34 of None Of Your Business

“You stayed in a study for relational strain because you were too awkward to walk out the door?”

“I have severe boundary issues, okay? Then Chloe started talking about her husband’s Call of Duty addiction, and it was interesting, so I stayed.”

Exasperated, Hudson scrubs a hand down his face. “You are unbelievable.”

“I’m an artist. We’re deeply sensitive to our environments.”

“You’re a data hazard!” He drops his hand, glaring at me. “You’re corrupting my solo-attendee cohort. These are research participants who consented to a specific study, not to become source material for your work. And I have a grant renewal in two months that requires my data to actually mean something.”

“That’s rude.”

“You’re a single woman sitting in a research cohort designed to examine relational strain.”

“Maybe I have relational strain.”

“With who? Roger’s ghost?”

“Too soon.”

“He died two years ago, and you weren’t married to him!”

“Grief has no timeline, Hudson.”

He stares at me. “I cannot believe this conversation is happening.”

“I told Dr. Webb I wasn’t ready. That is a valid therapeutic stance.”

“You’re not ready because your spouse is residing in a municipal cemetery.” His voice cracks just enough to show he’s entirely out of his depth. He takes a deep breath to rein himself back in. “Why are you doing this? Seriously. If you need support, why aren’t you with the right group?”

“That is none of your business.”

“You’re done,” Hudson says. “I’ll have the front desk remove you before next Tuesday.”

“No.”

“That wasn’t a negotiation.”

“I’m painting again,” I tell him before I can stop myself.

His expression changes.

Of all people, I don’t want to explain this to him, but I need this room.

“I couldn’t paint. I have a show in two months, and I couldn’t put a single thing on a canvas that didn’t make me want to set fire to it. Then I sat in this room.” I look toward the circle of empty chairs. “People started talking, I started drawing, and when I got home, I painted. I’ve been painting ever since.”

“That doesn’t make you eligible for the study.”

“I know.”

“You can’t stay in the research cohort.”

“Fine. Take my data out. Delete me. Put a giant red X through everything I’ve ever said.”

“You haven’t said anything.”

“Even better.”

“That’s not how this works.”