Unfaithful - Natalie Barelli Page 0,30

I am dressed for an important meeting while every other woman in the room is elegant, wealthy, sexy. Isabelle is dazzling in a slate-gray flowing layered ensemble that cascades in ripples of silk down her front, showing off her perfect breasts—at least I was right about that part—whereas I look like a life-insurance salesperson on her way to a seminar.

You can feel the sexual tension between them even standing as they are at opposite ends of the room. My chest is rising and falling with the effort of breathing. Were they together that night, while I waited alone in Luis’s studio? Of course they were. That’s what he’s been doing these past few weeks, when I thought he was working hard on his exhibition.

I’m under the gun, babe. An image of myself holding a shotgun to his head pops into my mind and I leave it there for a moment because it makes me feel better.

What about all the nights I worked late on my application so I could get a better job, better paid, work harder for my family? All the healthy meals I prepared while he made love to her? The instructions I left peppered with exclamation marks and tips when I couldn’t be home?

Salmon Teriyaki. Just fry the salmon (already dusted with flour, in the fridge) in the wok with lemon juice—1 min or so each side, make sure the wok is super hot first! Then add the teriyaki sauce (in the little blue and white jug—also in the fridge) and when it’s almost bubbling, serve it up! Vegetables are cut up, ready to steam, in the container with red lid, bottom shelf of the fridge. Sorry I have to work late again, love you all! x

Was he licking her toes while I washed dog poop off our porch? Was she on her knees, begging for more, while I scoured for recipes that would be delicious and nutritious? A wave of nausea rises up my throat as I watch him lapping up the attention, and all I want is to walk up to him, slap him and yell, Remember me? right into his face.

They’re posing for photos now, Luis and Isabelle. The artist and the curator. I thought Luis and I made a nice couple, but these two together look spectacular. How long has it been going on? I try to remember when these late nights started, the evasive answers about where he went, but I can’t pin it down. I was hardly there myself in the evenings. Those months of work with Alex took care of that.

Is she going to reap what I’ve sown and tenderly nurtured all these years while my time came and went with barely a ripple?

Suddenly Luis is by my side, a glass of champagne in his hand. None for me, I note.

“What do you think?” he asks.

I pause and gather myself. I search his face for evidence of his treachery, a twitch of guilt even, but all I find is the beaming grin of a winner.

He raises his eyebrows. “So?”

“It’s wonderful. Really, Luis. Congratulations.”

“Thank you.” He smiles. “But I couldn’t have done it without Isabelle.”

For a moment there I thought he was going to say, But I couldn’t have done it without you.

I pull my lips wide into an approximation of a smile.

“She’s amazing,” he continues, in the tone of someone talking to himself, shaking his head in awe at how wonderful she is. “It looks like she might have a shot at selling The Nest to the contemporary art museum for their permanent collection. Nothing concrete yet”—he holds crossed fingers—“but they’re considering it in their current acquisition round.” He closes his eyes and tilts his face to the ceiling. “God, that would be so amazing.” Then he turns to me and I guess he realizes I am here because he says, “Hey, you should talk to her, you’d really like her. She’s massively talented.” And I stand there thinking, Am I ever going to wake up from this nightmare? What if I jumped in front of a bus—would anyone even notice I was missing?

That night, when Luis comes to bed, I pretend to be asleep. He settles in with his back to me and within minutes he’s snoring. I lean close to his ear and whisper, “You snore, did you know that?” But he doesn’t move. I push the covers off me very slowly, swing my legs out of the bed and tiptoe over to his side. His cellphone is