Page 18 of Sweeter

“Should we take the doughnuts?” Will calls from my bedroom.

“Only if you don’t mind sharing, artists are poor, hungry folk.”

“I can handle that.”

I smile and wander over to my phone. I’ve got a few notifications—a WhatsApp message from my Portland friend, Mimi, a couple of client emails, and a notification from PayPal. Apparently, I’ve received funds because my life is on an MDMA high right now. I open the app, hoping it’s at least a couple hundred dollars from a commission. Nothing worse than getting all excited over a seven-dollar payment. The screen loads and I blink.

No.

No, that’s too many numbers. It must be an error. I go into my transactions and see the same numbers. Six numbers. A two. A five. And four zeros. I drop my phone.

“Marley, are you okay?” Will is shirtless and smiling, stretching his arms over his head so he looks even more like a billboard model than ever. I know what happened. What he must have done. I’m falling but it’s not a happy roller coaster ride this time, it’s a tumble down an abandoned mineshaft.

“Marley? What happened?”

I can’t speak. He’s lovely, funny, as good at sex as Montana is cold. Why would he do this to me?Howcould he have done this to me? Will’s face splits into a hideous grin. “You got my donation, didn’t you?”

“D-donation?” I sputter. “You gave me aquarter of a million dollars.”

“You deserve it.” Wills smile gets wider. It’s bigger than his face. Bigger than the room. My vision swims. “You don’t know what I deserve.”

“I know you’re talented and I promise I sent you the money before you told me not to!”

“That doesn’t matter!”

“Why?”

“Because you didn’t ask me what I wanted! You just threw cash in the air and hoped it would stick. Now you’re going to make my life and the rest of my career about you, some guy I fucked!”

Will raises his hands, almost hitting my ceiling. “Marley, this isn’t a big deal. Calm down!”

Oh no. Oh Christ, no.

I smile and pick up my takeaway cup. Will’s eyes widen and he takes a big step back, but it’s too late. I’ve already tossed the cold coffee right into his smug, know-it-all face.

Chapter 6

Marley

“Marley, am I doing it right?”

I look down at Anna’s daughter. Tia is up to her elbows in clay, squishing terracotta into a wonky cup.

“You’re doing great,” I say, and she is. Her unabashed love for pottery makes me want to cry, though a dropped Kleenex makes me want to cry these days. I reach into my pinafore and clutch the keychain. I know I shouldn’t draw strength from something I made for him, but I do.

“Mommy, look,” Tia calls, waving her clay in the air like a victory flag.

Anna looks up from her phone, beaming. “You’re such a clever girl, baby.”

I try. I really try not to sob like a wounded rhino, but the sound comes out anyway. I turn away, praying the impossible has happened and neither Tia or Anna noticed.

“Marley?” Tia asks. “Are you okay?”

I nod, though her sweetness is bringing up more tears. Anna gets to her feet. “Marley’s tired, honey.” She wraps an arm around my shoulder. “You go wash up and meet us in the kitchen. You can have screen time.”

“Yes!” Tia shouts and scampers away.

I wipe my eyes. “I’m sorry. There’s still eight minutes of class left.”

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