Page 33 of Shame

Luke: That’s my beautiful girl. My one and only.

I wanted a reaction, and that’s as good as I could hope for, but I hate it too.

What I actually want is Luke to want me like this, in bamboo lounge pants and a Sarah McLachlan tank top. I want him to want me because I’m fired up to to go back into the studio tomorrow and work up a production schedule for making copies of my most iconic pieces.

And I want to curl up on the couch with him and talk about the pros and cons of that plan.

There has always been a part of me that wants Luke to be more like Alex and Sam. That wanted, over the last four years, forLuketo be who I go to for moral support. I don't want that from his brother or his friend.

I wanted it from my husband.

And there is a wound, deep inside me, a festering, layered wound that won’t be easy to heal around the fact that he was never that kind of a support to me. I desperately wanted it from him. Not from anyone else.

What does it say about me that even now, as I am so sure there is no path of repair in front of us, I still wish he was my go-to guy to talk about things.

Because it’s a lie that he wasneverthat person.

It’s just been a very long time.

16

Luke

Eighteen years ago

“What do you think?”

I wasn’t listening, and Grace knows it. I stretch my arms wide and take a deep breath. “I drifted there.”

She pokes me with the cap of her pink highlighter.

We’re supposed to be studying, but my brain is in a fog. Before she can get us back on track, my phone rings.

I frown as I recognize the number, and Grace catches my mood shift. “Who’s that?”

“My brother. Sam.” I hunch my shoulders. “He’s four years younger than me. Just started at boarding school.”

“I still can’t believe that’s a real thing that people do.”

“Rich people who don’t like being parents have options,” I joke, but it’s true.

Another email comes in from Sam, telling me not to open the first one. Aw, man. I click in to the first message anyway, and it’s a wall of panic and uncertainty. I swear under my breath and climb off the bed. “I have to go call him.”

“Do you want me to go?”

I lean over and kiss her on the mouth, soft and slow. “Nope. I want you here all night. But he’s a fourteen-year-old boy, and if he knows my valedictorian girlfriend is listening, he’s not going to open up about his troubles.”

“Why would he know that I was valedictorian…” She trails off and beams at me. “Were you bragging about my high school academic record to your little brother?”

“It’s impressive.”

“It’s embarrassing.”

“You don’t look embarrassed.” I lower my voice and slide my hand under her shirt, finding her bare breast and squeezing. “You look pleased.”

“Mmm.” She shoves me away. “Go. Be a good big brother, and then come back because I want to talk to you about something kind of weird.”

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