Sensing Stella tense beside him, Vincent coaxed her with a reassuring hand. ‘What do you mean?’
‘He was abusive. Emotionally. Verbally. It took some time in therapy to really accept what happened to me. After the fact, though. It’s alwaysafterthe fact. I was broken, Vincent. And I thought beyond repair. Maybe I am still a little bit broken. Things trigger me all the time.’
‘What did he do to you?’
There, two contorted naked bodies lying in Stella’s unfortunate single bed, Stella told Vincent her story.
He listened quietly and carefully until he finally found the right moment to speak. ‘Stella, I’m sure what I’m about to tell you is nothing you haven’t heard before from your friends and loved ones, but I’ll repeat it all the same: youdidn’tdeserve that.’
‘I know. I have come to learn and accept that.’
‘And I’m sorry that he mistreated you like that.’
Stella’s eyes returned to the ceiling. ‘And I’m sorry that Céline did what she did to you too.’
‘Thank you.’
After a pensive pause, she added, ‘I really like your little notes, by the way. They’re very sweet. And thoughtful.’
Vincent’s lips bundled self-consciously in a pucker. ‘Sometimes it’s easier for me to write things down than voice them aloud.’
‘That’s ok.’ She reached across and placed a hand on his. ‘Weallhave our security blankets. Whatever keeps you safe and warm.’
Vincent went quiet. He didn’t move for what seemed an eternity, and the two lay there listening to each other’s breathing in the dark until he finally said, ‘I would prefer Marcella didn’t know about this.’ His fingers danced between them. ‘I think we need space to just spend time together without her . . .’
‘Influence?’
‘I was going to saymeddling.’
Stella noted a shift in Vincent’s tone, sharpened by the way he sat up abruptly in bed. ‘You know, the time will come when we can’t—’
‘I know,’ he snipped. ‘But we can hold her off. For a time?’
Vincent pulled the sheet off them and shimmied his way to the end of the bed. Standing tall, he leaned over and gave the back of Stella’s calf a caress. As he did, his phone vibrated on her desk.
Taking a look at her watch, she said, ‘Who could possibly be harassing you at ten-thirty at night?’
He checked the message. ‘Work. I’ve got to go. Marcella will be back before I am. Are we still having lunch at the bar?’
‘Yes. Meet me in thecampoat noon. I should be finished by then.’
‘Good. I’m looking forward to meeting Marco. Sweet dreams.’ Collecting his clothes, he exited Stella’s room and padded across the hall.
Stella, enjoying the full expanse of her mattress, flopped back and closed her eyes. While she had found creative relief in the evening’s events and a new rhythm with Vincent, an uneasy tension had settled into her heart. But it wasn’t Vincent’s swift exit or another faked orgasm that twisted her conscience in a vice.
It was Marcella.
Keeping things from her was never wise. And something told her that it wouldn’t be for long.
undici
‘How did you go?’ Vincent greeted Stella with a warm embrace and hearty smile right on midday. ‘Sell many?’ He relieved her of the easel and satchel of paints.
‘Thanks. That was getting heavy. Yes, actually. Two of the larger ones, and someone else will come back tomorrow. They left a deposit.’
‘Well done.’ He dropped a kiss on her cheek and flicked her fringe from her face. ‘Good job.’ Taking stock of her battered and bruised satchel, he said, ‘Waiting until it falls apart for good?’ His free hand fiddled with the loose cover flap. ‘Won’t be long.’
‘I happen to love my satchel. For better or worse.’
