Page 15 of Shame

I don’t reply to that. It’s hardly the most important problem in front of us right now. But now that he’s brought it up, my mind races with the to-do list I have for the next two weeks.

And then the opening night itself. I’m certainly not looking forward to pasting on a smile that will hurt by the end of three hours, pressing flesh with potential buyers for a catalogue of work that in an instant, my husband blew up my entire practiced pitch for.

TheDeath in a Marriagepiece certainly takes on a new meaning. But all the other pieces are just as deadly to me. Each of them represents in a subtle way the erotic fantasies I had about Luke.

I’m a fool.

A fool who is going to have to sell pieces that no longer feel real to me.

Fuck.

Throwing off the blanket, I force myself to stand. “I need to go to the studio.” I swallow hard. “I might stay there tonight. I need some space.”

Luke’s out of the chair before I get to the bedroom door. He gets in front of me, blocking the exit, and I see red. I shove at his chest and burst into tears.

“Go to Sam’s,” he mutters under his breath. “He’s at Hazel’s for the week. Don’t sleep at the studio.”

I shove again and he bumps against the door frame, then slides out of the way.

I don’t look back. I grab my bag and my coat and leave before the tears consume me.

8

Luke

I spenda sleepless night alone in our bed. I can’t get warm, even wearing a sweater. At some point in the middle of the night, I pull on a hoodie from college that Grace had long ago appropriated as hers.

It smells like her.

And as I stare at the clock turn to half-past three in the morning, something inside me cracks. I reach for my phone in the dark and it lights up as I pick it up.

Grace: I can’t sleep. I hate you. I just thought you should know.

Luke: I can’t sleep either. I love you. And I understand.

Grace: I hate my show, too.

Luke: Can we talk? Can you call me?

She doesn’t reply, and the phone doesn’t ring. After a long, painful minute that feels like an hour, I try her phone, but it doesn’t go through.

Dawn comes before I fall asleep. I wake up with a start not long after, thinking I feel the weight of her sliding into bed next to me. But the loft is still empty.

9

Grace

It wasa mistake to text him. I block him right after he says he loves me—no you don’t, you don’t know what that word means—and then I spend an hour watching and reading porn, trying to get myself off so the post-orgasm release will trip me into sleep.

It’s fucking rude that Luke’s affair has ruined some of my favourite smut subjects, too.

There’s no point raiding Sam’s cupboards for booze, either, because he doesn’t have anything. I find a single serving bottle of cheap champagne that’s covered in dust and undrinkable when I open it.

I hope he never wonders where that bottle went, because tomorrow I’ll find a better place to stay. I can’t stay here much longer without him figuring out I’m here, and…I’m not reading for that. As it stands, I’m already a creeper for letting myself in without telling him I’m there.

On the other hand, I know this apartment like the back of my hand. I helped Sam buy it, desperate to get him out of our place.

I thought Luke and I would be able to get back on track once we had our private life back.

---