Indulgence

by K. A. Berg

  “How do we fix this?” She swiped a stray tear from her eye. “How do I accept everything I’ve done and move on? How do I live with this?”

  All I wanted to do was pull her into my arms, stroke her hair, and whisper in her ear that we do it together. We put one foot in front of the other. We carve out time each day to have conversations. About our day, our feelings, the damn weather. Anything to show her that nothing is ruined, and we can be us again. Distance isn’t the answer.

  It was difficult to tell what she was thinking. Her face was a mix of different emotions. Worry, sadness, and a pinch of happy. “I really do appreciate what you did with the bedroom.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  What else was I supposed to say?

  She tucked her hair behind her ear and fiddled with the ends. It was something she did when she was nervous. “Maybe we could go for dinner when I get back.”

  We sat there discussing a possible meal together as if we hadn’t been married thirteen years. I didn’t know whether to punch the wood I sat upon or cry. I was hoping that since Natalie let out her deepest insecurities and I’d reassured her of just how irreplaceable she was to me, she would come back home. Not offer to schedule me in for dinner the next day. But I guess it was a positive step and I needed to recognize she was trying.

  “Yeah, sure.”

  Natalie looked upset with my apathy in that moment. “Look, I don’t like this any more than you do. I’m sorry. I thought I could be like you and give you everything you wanted, but I’m not. I wasn’t strong enough. But I won’t lose you because of it. I’ve been selfish. I’ve been stubborn. I’ve made mistakes. I’m not perfect. But I am trying here, Matt. I’m lost too.”

  “So, come home.” I tried not to grit my teeth as I spoke.

  She sighed as if coming home was the biggest inconvenience of her life. “I know I need to come home, but I need to get my head straightened out first. Before I can concentrate just on that, I need to get through this opening. I just need to tackle one stressor at a time.”

  I understood what she meant, but the words still seemed like a slap in the face. Tackle one stressor at a time. Our marriage and home had become a stressor for my wife. Wonderful.

  Just when I thought we were taking a step forward, it felt like with those words, we took three steps backward.

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Matteo

  The doorbell rang, and I called out, “It’s open.”

  Adam was joining me for wings, beer, and baseball tonight.

  It was a stark contrast to my typical Saturday night, which was running around with the kids or going to Immersion with Natalie or even dinner with her. Instead it was ordering wings, stopping at the liquor store, and watching the baseball game.

  If we didn’t get our shit together, this could be all my future Saturdays starting next month. I didn’t get to have dinner with Natalie Friday or have the opportunity to talk in the car on the trip up to see the kids on Saturday. There was some kind of crisis in Portland.

  The gallery failed inspection for some kind of electrical issues. Insults were hurled, egos were bruised, and crew were fired all for the inspector to fail the building rather than giving a conditional approval and coming back to check. Without an approval from the city’s board of planning, Metro couldn’t open on Tuesday.

  Natalie had to find a company to come in and fix the issue immediately while trying to sooth the inspector and beg him to come back the next day. She was stressed to the max and couldn’t leave the place unattended.

  Instead, she FaceTimed with the kids while I was up with them. It wasn’t the same as her being there in person, but I could tell she needed to see them even if just through a camera.

  Adam’s larger-than-life presence filled the room as well as the scent of buffalo wings. “Man, you look like crap.”

  I nodded my agreement. “I feel pretty stellar, too.”

  He passed through the kitchen and then sat next to me on the couch. The wings were deposited in the middle of the coffee table, the tops of two beers were popped, and the first batter struck out.

  “Natalie and I spoke on Wednesday.”

  This was news to me. Natalie didn’t mention Adam during our chat. “Yeah?” I had a bunch of questions. “Were you with her when she saw the bedroom?”

  He licked buffalo sauce off the tips of his fingers. “She thought something was broken and came in panicked. I tried to talk her out of it, but you know Natalie.”

  Yes, I did. “Thanks for trying.”

  He tipped his beer back and settled into the corner of the couch. “She looked surprised in a good way.”

  I tried to change as much of the room as I could for that specific purpose. The further away it was from its previous setup, the better. “She said she really liked it.”

  He took a drink of his beer and then hung his arm over the side. He was intently focused on me. “When are you going to bring your girl home?”

  Not for a few days, at least. “She’s in Portland until Wednesday.”

  “What’s she doing in Portland?” he asked, bringing a wing to his mouth.

  “The gallery is opening a new location there.”

  He took another swig of beer, washing down his chicken. “When?”

  “Tuesday.”

  He frowned. “Isn’t that like a big deal?”

  I nodded and sat forward to grab a wing.

  “Are you going?”

  I shook my head and took a bite. Damn, these were good. “I wasn’t planning on it.”

  His forehead scrunched. “Seriously?”

  “Yeah, why?”

  He leaned over and placed his beer down on the table. “You guys are fighting to put shit back together, and yet, you aren’t going to show up to something you know is a big deal for her?”

  “It isn’t as if she invited me or asked me to come.”

  He looked at me with disappointment. “Matteo.” His voice was firm. “Natalie’s dealing with jealousy and regret, she’s worried that everything has been ruined. You aren’t showing her it isn’t. Don’t you see that? You put more effort into planning a night for us with your wife than you are putting in to trying to fix your marriage. Come on, dude, you’re better than that.”

  “She doesn’t want me there. Her words were something along the lines of wanting to handle one stressor at a time.”

  He grunted. “When did you become a pussy?”

  So much for watching baseball and hanging low with my buddy. “What’s that supposed to mean?” I snapped back.

  He scoffed. “Two months ago, you asked me if I was interested in being a third with you and Nat. No hesitation. No fears. Just straight-up honesty. Now, you’re afraid to piss off the wife you’re trying to win back by supporting her?”

  My jaw stiffened, and my teeth clenched. As much as I missed Natalie, I also just wanted a night of not thinking, of not wringing my brain dry.

  I ran my hands through my hair. “Listen. I’m tired. I’m tired of playing guessing games as to what may or may not work. I asked her to come home, and she told me not yet. That she needed to get through the stress of opening the new gallery first. Isn’t that a clear message that she wants these two parts of her life separate?”

  “Or”—he tilted his beer toward me and raised his eyebrows—“everything goes off without a hitch, and Natalie looks around, taking in all of her hard work, and can’t really enjoy it because you aren’t there to share it with her. You, the person she loves the most, will be the guy who couldn’t be bothered to put aside the argument and be there for her. Weren’t you pissed about the same thing with your promotion just this week? How is she expected to believe that nothing has been ruined then? How can she feel secure in that?”

  Fucking Adam.

  “Would you be there if everything were right in your world?”

  The answer came without any conscious thought. “Yes.”

  He sat back and smirked. “Then there’s your answer.�
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  My mind started weighing each side. Pros and cons. What could go wrong? What could go right?

  “Don’t think so hard,” Adam said. “I’m off for the next three. We can head down tomorrow if you want or even Tuesday morning. Road trip. I’ll keep you from losing your mind on the way down. I’m sure Natalie wouldn’t mind the extra celebrant. Too bad we couldn’t get Trev to come. Hey, what does the other married guy say about all this?”

  Trevor laughed at me. He couldn’t wrap his head around trying to do something like we did with his wife Audrey. “He told me I better grovel until Natalie said it was enough.”

  Adam made it sound simple. Just hop in the car, hang with my bud, and go see my wife. As if it would fix all our problems.

  “So, what do you say?” he asked. “Do we need a Road to Portland playlist?”

  Seattle hit a home run, and cheers erupted from the speakers. I took it as a positive sign. Three weeks ago, I was desperate to get my wife back. I needed to tap back into that guy. “Let’s do it.”

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Natalie

  The paintings filled the room with a tidal wave of color. Bastien’s work wasn’t about objects and figures but shapes and colors. This new focus was gorgeous splashes of vibrancy that told a story. The canvases started out with blacks and gray and transitioned through the color spectrum into orange and yellow.

  It was titled Life in Reverse.

  The thing I loved about abstract art was that you couldn’t lock it in a box. It meant something different to everyone who looked at it. I had no idea what Bastien was envisioning when he painted these, but when I looked at them, I saw a story of life.

  The yellows and oranges blended to represent the brightness and innocence of new life. We experience so many events and emotions during our time on Earth but then we fade into the black as we come to an end.

  Or I could flip it and see it the opposite way. We start life in the dark and grow into the light. Things become bigger and brighter as time passes.

  The serenity I felt taking it all in washed away the obnoxious amount of stress I felt this weekend.

  “No!” Bastien shook his head and stomped his foot like a three-year-old, drawing my attention away from the painting. “This isn’t how they go. The canvases are too far apart and this one is upside down. Putain!”

  He was in rare form the rest of the morning and found sadistic joy in making everyone’s heads spin.

  I didn’t envy the people tasked with rehanging or Annetta, who was the one who got to calm him down. With the rest of the gallery being mine to get ready, I slipped away, blocking out Bastien’s diva moment.

  One of my favorite parts of my job was this. Today. Seeing it all come together. I’d spent months securing other pieces to house. Countless hours spent tracking down muted pieces that wouldn’t interfere with Bastien’s vision for his collection. It hadn’t made a lick of sense until he unveiled his own pieces.

  My fingers flittered over the smooth dark marble of a sculpture I was able to procure from a Turkish artist. It was one part of a perfect array of pieces to complement the main focus.

  It took me about two hours to double- and triple-check all the piece plaquettes, history blurbs, and program orders before I was positive everything was set for tonight.

  In the main event room, Bastien was finally signing off on the setup. Ten pieces hung as the focal of the space. He played with lights for a moment, and when he switched on the spotlight, it was as if the canvases came alive.

  “It’s breathtaking,” I told Annetta. It made all his crankiness and outbursts from the six months wash away in favor of the warmth I felt looking at the paintings.

  She nodded. “The asshole has more talent than he knows what to do with.”

  Her eyes traversed the room and landed on me. “Everything is wonderful. You did a magnificent job, as always.”

  “Thank you.”

  She checked her watch. “I’m going to grab him, feed him lunch, ply him with a few glasses of Champaign, and go over his speech for tonight. We’ll see you at five.”

  Annetta ran a tight ship, and no one knew how to handle Bastien Bisset like his sister. Their duo was unparalleled.

  As I stepped into the warm heat of Portland, I pulled my phone from the pocket of my pleated shorts. I was making a concerted effort to reach out to Matteo, especially since the chaos here cause me to miss our dinner plans on Friday. I sent texts about my day. Thoughts of this and that. I knew he wanted me to come home, and deep down, I wanted to too. I was hoping to unscramble my brain as soon as this building opened tonight. I’d fly back to Seattle tomorrow with the gallery set and the showcase in full swing.

  Then I would unwind these fears from my mind.

  Matteo had looked so withdrawn on Thursday, and I knew I owed it to him to try harder. He typically held this ownership of himself, and it was clearly missing last week. He seemed defeated and basically admitted as much. He was tired. I wasn’t making it easy to love me, I knew that. My inability to deal with my regret was destroying my husband.

  I was working on changing my perception of the situation. We tried something new, and I didn’t like it. Like trying a new dish or perfume or sexual position. It didn’t work for me. I enjoyed it in the moment, but I had no desire to do it again. That was it.

  There was no need for me to dwell in the negative.

  What I needed was to find that mind scrubber from Men In Black to eradicate the memories that followed from the next day. Then I’d be good.

  Cigarette smoke wafted through the air, tickling my nose as I walked toward my hotel, which was a block away from the gallery. Looking up, I spotted a man who looked eerily like Gerard from Immersion.

  There was no way that could be. My mind just kept finding new ways to torture me. If it wasn’t glimpses of Matteo’s non-existent second family, it was the creepy guy from the club who unnerved me the last time I saw him.

  I just couldn’t keep my two worlds apart.

  With each step closer I took, the better I saw the figure. My mind wasn’t playing tricks on me. What the hell was Gerard doing here? In Portland? At the same hotel I was staying at?

  My stomach dropped to the sidewalk as I noticed that his focus was on me as I approached.

  “Natalie?” He feigned shock as if he hadn’t just watched me walk two hundred feet. My skin crawled with the way his beady eyes looked me over. “What a small world. What are you doing in Portland?”

  He crushed the end of the cigarette between his thumb and index finger before dropping it into the ashtray on the top of the garbage can. “Work. We have a new gallery opening.”

  I instantly regretted giving him that much information because there was something about running into him here that didn’t feel so innocent. Something about the way his eyes sparkled that made me want to step back. “You work for Metro?”

  Goose bumps danced across my neck and I forced myself to nod. “I do.”

  His lips spread into a strange smirk. “I didn’t know you were involved in the art world. I’m also here for Bisset’s new collection. I’m in the market for a new piece of art.”

  I tried to keep my smile tight, not too inviting because I didn’t want to spend any time near him tonight. But he was also a potential buyer, so I had to maintain my professionalism around him. “It’s going to be great.”

  “Where’s Matteo? Is the family coming to see the big reveal?” he asked as he searched the space around me as though he were truly looking for Matt.

  All my spidey scenes fired off warning shots, screaming at me to get away. I never told him Matteo’s name. He never spoke to Matteo.

  Relax, Natalie, he has seen you two together. He’s heard you call out his name.

  “He’ll be here later,” I lied, not caring if there was a reason for how and why he knew Matt’s name. It would be easy to say something came up if he asked again at the show. At the moment, all I cared about was getting inside my hotel.


  “Well, see you later.” He shrugged as he turned and walked into the hotel as if he were staying there too. I waited until he disappeared around the corner before I went in. Something in my gut told me that man didn’t need to know I was staying here as well.

  A feeling of dread stirred in my belly. Things felt . . . off. I wished Matteo were here. Remembering my phone in my hand, I pulled up Matt’s name and called as I walked to the elevator banks. His voice mail picked up, so I left a message just before I entered the elevator car. “Hey. I’m on my way back to my room then I’m heading for lunch before I have to get ready for the showing. Just wanted to call while I had a minute. See you tonight.”

  It sounded stupid, but just hearing his voice helped wash away a bit of my unease. That was definitely a good sign. The paranoid part of me made sure to keep up my lie because I didn’t know where Gerard slunk off to.

  The cloud of apprehension he cast over me followed me down the hall, but I reminded myself that my brain was on overload and I was probably just trying to find some new way of distracting myself from dealing with my issues.

  I stopped outside my room and slipped the keycard from my pocket. As I slid it into the lock, my head was shoved forward, my face slammed hard into the door. Everything stopped for a moment as pain reverberated throughout my skull. A sharp sting burned across my forehead and an agonizing throb emanated in my cheek.

  My bag and phone fell from my hand to the floor. I tried to focus so I could scream for help, but a hand that reeked of cigarettes covered my mouth. Gerard. I knew it deep down. Something warm trickled down my face. Blood—either from my forehead or nose, I wasn’t sure—mixed with the disgusting taste of the dirty skin pressed against my lips.