“Do you know how much money I’ve spent on Ian’s work in the last year?” Lewis asked. He was ready to fight again. He was upset with her for buying the candleholders after he’d returned them. “Close to eighty thousand dollars. If it wasn’t for me he woulda starved to death years ago. And I need to take his shit? Nobody else takes his shit! He should kiss Claire’s ass every chance he gets. She’s the only one in New York who still shows him.”

He glanced at Sylvia. “He needs some cutting down. He punched Victor Aarons—one of the biggest gallery owners in New York—because Victor jokingly called him a ‘fartiste.’ And don’t forget the time he pissed in a bottle of PJ and sent it to a critic who’d given him a bad review. That was years ago, but it still goes to show what kind of person he is. Nobody wants to touch him. I’m one of the few people who supports this little shit, and he tells me, ‘Fuck you.’ Fuck me? Fuck me? Oh, no, fuck him! Fuck him, and fuck anyone who sides with him.”

“Does that include me?”

“Do you side with him?”

“On some things, yes. So what does that mean?”

“It means f—”

“I must have missed that,” she replied, smugly.

“You didn’t miss a thing,” he said through his teeth.

“Oh? Then what did you say, Mr. Cole?”

“I said f—”

“Yes?”

“F … forget about it.”

“That’s what I thought you said.”

“Don’t talk to me like that.”

“I can speak to you any way I please.”

“Delude yourself.”

“In a lot of ways, maybe I have been.”

“What does that mean?”

“I know what it means, that’s all that matters.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Nothing.”

“Here we go—something suddenly becoming nothing.”

“In more ways than one.”

She began to think of Fire. What did he think of her? Had the argument changed his view? She began to feel him now, the lines in his palm, the buds on his tongue—and smell him. His scent was comforting … like a new book … or mown grass after evening rain.

“Lewis,” she began slowly, “if I abandoned you, would you chase after me?”

“What is this? Poetic question hour?”

“Just answer me,” she said. “If I abandoned you, would you chase after me?”

“Look, Sylvia, I don’t want to start another argument with you, and I sense one coming if I don’t say the right thing.”

“You’re avoiding my question. Just like you avoided Ian’s.”

He drummed his thumbs against the steering wheel. What was her problem tonight?

“Sylvia,” he began quietly, “I’m sorry for all this, and I suppose you are too. This is just so … so … it’s just not good. Look at what we’re doing. We’re fighting over a pair of candleholders. A pair of stupid candleholders. You know what? Why should they come between us? Let’s turn around right now and take them back to Claire. They’ll be out of our lives and we’ll be fine again.”