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“I’m leaving tomorrow morning,” I said, astonished at her attitude. “I might be gone for three weeks – ”
“I’ll see you when you get back.”
“Rachel – ”
“What do you want to do, lie around watching movies? You think we’re going to have sex? NO.”
“I just want to be near you before I leave – ”
“Well, I don’t want to be miserable, so I’m going home.”
I stood there in shock.
She looked at me uncertainly, like she was expecting me to say something more. To fight for her to stay.
When I didn’t, she said, “I hope you have a good trip… wherever it is you’re going.”
I just stared at her.
“Goodbye,” she said simply, and walked away.
I stood there a long time in the cold.
Finally, I went up to my room…
Put the engagement ring back in the safe…
And called up the restaurant and cancelled the reservation.
Then I raided the minibar in my room, got drunk, and passed out so I didn’t have to think about what might have been.
81
Rachel
Iburst into tears as soon as I got behind the wheel of my car.
I hated the way I’d acted towards him.
I hated that I’d been such a bitch.
Basically, I hated that I’d acted like my mother.
I wanted desperately to go knock on his hotel room door, tell him I was sorry and that I was just scared, and make him fuck me into oblivion –
But I held back.
Maybe it was my pride.
Maybe it was because I wanted him so desperately to tell me the truth, and his refusal felt like a betrayal.
I knew it wasn’t. A betrayal, I mean. As he was so fond of reminding me, he’d had to deal with the secrecy around my own job ever since we met –
But it still felt like he was lying to me. And I absolutely hated it.
So instead, I went home, put on some music, opened a bottle of wine, and got drunk.
Then I opened another bottle… and another one… and got obliterated.
