"The last sponsor for your exhibition signed off tonight. And while I was being forced to drink until my stomach hemorrhaged, while I nearly died, where were you, Mark?"
My eyes burned. I swallowed down the sting climbing my nose and screamed the question at him.
"Stomach hemorrhage? Ava, I didn't know you—you know me. When I'm painting, I always shut my phone off."
Something in his face finally cracked. His hand lifted on instinct, reaching to feel my forehead.
A small figure came rushing over and planted herself between us.
The girl wore the look of a martyr facing the firing squad, jaw clenched. When her eyes swept over the red welt swelling on Mark's cheek, her lips trembled with tender heartbreak.
"It's all my fault, ma'am. I begged Mr. Delgado to sketch me. I only wanted a record of myself at my most beautiful—"
"If you want to hit someone, hit me. Yell at me. Don't blame him."
She tilted her chin up stubbornly, and the gesture exposed a faint red mark along her throat.
In the early days, he used to leave marks like that on me too.
My lips curled into a mocking arc.
"Mark. We're done."
I rose and walked straight for the door. Lucretia threw out an arm to stop me.
"Ma'am, please, don't be like this, I can explain— Ah!"
I turned to dodge her. Off balance, she crumpled to the floor.
Mark's eyes went bloodshot. He snatched my wrist.
"Enough, Ava. How long are you going to keep this up? You've got a problem, you take it out on me. Stop bullying a young girl!"
"She lost her own footing—"
I'd barely gotten one word of defense out before he cut me off.
"You're just too small-minded to make room for Lucretia, so you invent these lies to smear her, and now you're putting your hands on her!"
"Fine. You want to break up, we break up. And this time, don't come crawling back to beg me!"
With that, he bent down, gathered Lucretia up off the floor, and slammed the door behind them.
I'd never warmed to Lucretia from the first time we met, so I'd had Dana quietly look into her.
Just as I'd suspected, the girl was anything but simple.
I'd urged Mark more than once to let her go. Every time, he'd called me unreasonable, and it always ended in a bitter, ugly fight.
After all that, my head spun. I caught myself against the edge of the desk just in time to keep from going down.
Our graduation photo sat there on the desktop, Mark and me.
I was beaming at the camera. His gaze was fixed on me, as if he were looking at his entire world.
A heavy pressure clamped down on my chest. One sweep of my hand and the photo dropped into the trash.
Forcing myself upright, I answered an email from overseas.
"Thank you for the offer. I'll report to my new position on time."
I'd worked with a French curatorial firm before, and their director had long wanted to lure me away.
Because of Mark, I'd turned them down flat.
Now there was no one left worth staying for.
I went home to pack.
The sight of the rumpled sheets on the master bed sent a wave of nausea through me. I yanked them off and flung them aside.
There was porridge simmering in the kitchen. I ladled myself a bowl.
A noise sounded outside the door, and then Mark walked in, leading Lucretia by the hand with exaggerated care.
My eyes landed on their fingers, laced tight together. Mark jerked his hand back as if he'd been scalded.
He rubbed the bridge of his nose, his expression turning a little awkward.
"Lucretia hurt her hand. It's hard for her to get by on her own, so she'll be staying here for a while. You're the one who caused this, after all, so you'll take good care of her."
"Oh, and Lucretia loves how the master bedroom's done up. For now I'll sleep in the studio and you'll take the guest room. Let her have the master bedroom, so she can settle in with peace of mind."
He caught sight of the bowl in my hands, and a faint, amused smile tugged at his mouth.
"See, Lucretia? I told you your teacher's wife loves me. That breakup talk earlier was just her temper running hot. Look, one fight and she's back home cooking porridge like a good girl."
