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Chapter Twenty-Two
Ruthie
Conversation with Shane
We’re meeting for the work thing on Friday night. Seven o’clock. You should come to my house beforehand.
No, thanks. I’ll meet you there. Just tell me where it’s being held.
I was being polite. I need you to come to my house first.
You, polite?
I know, right? It surprised me too.
Are you trying to seduce me? Because I meant what I said. One night was all you get.
Yes, I understood you perfectly. It would look strange if we showed up separately.
So why don’t you come here?
Your apartment has associations for me now.
Wear the ring.
Yes, sir. (She says with sarcasm.)
That’s yes, lord and master to you.
Yes, Princess Peach.
Conversation with Mira
Are we still pretending that you were eating Christmas candy you stole from your child the other night?
I’m just saying…it would make you seem like less of a loser if you were actually banging a hot guy in a suit.
You know, speaking hypothetically.
Candy’s delicious. There’s a reason children go feral for it.
Sighhhhh. Still pretending. Don’t worry, I’ll check in with you every day for the rest of your life.
I’ve barely heard from Shane, except for his texts about Friday night and also the insurance.
This distance from him is what I wanted, so it’s ridiculous of me to be disappointed. At the same time, I can’t forget what it felt like to tie his hands together and take him. Or watch him in that mirror while he made me come with his mouth, the muscles in his back flexing as he added his fingers to the game. Or…
Or what it felt like to fall asleep in his arms, his familiar scent hanging around me like that unicorn safety blanket that was lost to me all those years ago. The thing that was so precious to me is probably sitting in a landfill somewhere, wrapped around someone else’s plastic baby doll.
Of course, there’s nothing about Shane that’s safe—and as each day passes, I build my walls higher.
Friday will be a performance, a show, but he’ll probably want to touch me so he can come off as a doting husband, and if I don’t have a spine of steel and walls of brick, I might do something I’ll regret.
So I remind myself of all the things I dislike about him. I repeat them in my head like a mantra. Shane is vain. Shane is condescending. Shane doesn’t believe in me.
It’s that last one that leaves scores in my flesh. Shane sees me as a quitter, someone who can’t stick the landing and doesn’t really try. Someone who has ideas but lacks drive, which is clearly a quality he holds in the highest regard.
I shouldn’t care what he thinks, but I want him to grovel at my feet. To tell me that I am what I’d like to be: a strong, independent woman who doesn’t have any use for a man except in bed.
