F*ck Marriage(44)

“Hey,” she says.

“Hi.”

I try to read her mood. She’s relaxed. Neutral. But it could be jet lag. If I ask her how it went without telling her about Satcher and me, I’ve deceived her. I don’t want to do that. I walk toward the bedroom and then remember I don’t know where I’ll be sleeping.

“I cleared out the office,” Jules says. “I’m going to take that until everything is worked out.”

Worked out?

“No way,” I say. “You should have your room. It’s your apartment.”

“Absolutely not. I’m the intruder. We had a deal. Besides, once I start working again I’m hardly home. I don’t need the space.”

I nod, but I’m embarrassed. It doesn’t feel right. Jules turns back to her computer, staring at the dark screen. I should just go to bed, stay out of it, but she looks so forlorn.

I squeeze my eyes shut. “Everything okay?”

I hear her sniff; thankfully, it’s not a teary sniff but more of a resolved one.

“Yeah. We’re gonna figure it out. He’s been seeing someone. It just makes me feel sick to know that. Some other woman touching him. What if he loves her?”

I can feel my face going pink. I walk to the fridge, grab two bottles of Perrier, and set one in front of her.

“Actually, can we have something harder? Something that will make this sick feeling in my stomach go away?”

“I think if you want the sick feeling to go away you probably shouldn’t drink.” I laugh. I take back the Perrier and pull out the bottle of Grey Goose instead.

“He said he needs time to think,” she says. “What do you think that means?” Her face is twisted with worry.

I want to hug her, but that will make me feel like a worse person.

“Probably that he needs to think,” I say.

She makes a face at me and I shrug.

“It was a shock to see you. He probably needs some time to sort out his feelings.”

She nods. I pass her a vodka and soda and then proceed to make myself a double.

“I’ve only been gone four months. You’d think he could have waited a little before jumping into something new.”

“That’s not fair,” I tell her. “How abstinent were you in Brazil?”

She snorts, her fingers playing with the condensation on her glass.

“He said he has to talk to her,” she blurts.

I’m about to ask who her is when I remember it’s me. Satcher needs to talk to me. The realization that the very thing that has been making me happy these past weeks is about to go away knots up my insides. I swallow my tears and smile.

“I’m going to bed,” I say, kissing Jules on the forehead. “See you in the morning.”

She’s distracted when she nods. I carry my drink to the bedroom and shut the door quietly behind me. I check my phone and see that Satcher’s called twice. There’s a text from him too:

Call me when you get a minute.

I don’t want to call him. I’d rather delay the inevitable. I put my phone face down on the dresser and climb into bed fully clothed, burying my face in the pillow. Not my pillow—Jules’ pillow. Not my apartment—Jules’ apartment. Not my Satcher—Jules’ Satcher.

I am such a loser.





Chapter Twenty-Three





I don’t see Satcher until work on Monday morning. He’s waiting for me in my office, one coffee sitting on my desk and the other in his hand. I realize that I didn’t even think to make coffee this morning or stop for one on the way; I’ve been dependent on his morning deliveries. It’s become our ritual: lattes in my office before the rest of the staff arrives, some nineties band playing through my speakers.

“Hey,” he says.

“Hey,” I say back.

There’s a dead silence during which I round my desk and sit in my chair. I stare at the paper cup of coffee for lack of anywhere better to look. Rebel Grinds, it says on the cup. A streak of brown runs down the white where the coffee must have spilled over the side. I feel numb, dangerously numb. It’s the type that stays and you learn to live with it. A cruel survival tool that alters who you are, rubbing your emotions down to nubs.

“Billie, can you look at me, please…”

I lift my eyes to his face. No sign of dimples. His eyes are dark like he’s hardly slept. I think about how he sleeps better after he has sex and then my mind immediately goes to Jules and I feel like throwing up.

“You knew,” I say. “You knew I was living in Jules’ apartment and you never mentioned that you were dating her.”

“Past tense. We were seeing each other before she left. We ended things. Why would I bring that up?”

“Because I’m living in your ex-girlfriend's apartment!”

“Stop it, Billie. She’s your friend.”

I do stop it, because he’s right. But it feels like the type of situation I need to sulk over. I pick up the coffee he brought me, take a sip. Smacking my lips together I make a decision. I won’t let this get in the way of what I came back for. Satcher has sidetracked me. A small romantic reprieve that was shut down before it went too far.

“It was a bad idea anyway, Satch. Let’s just forget about it, okay?”