His jaw ground for a moment before a smile was back in place. “I’m literally on my knees begging you to run away with me and you’re talking about your hobby?”
“Getting published has been my dream …”
“I thought I was your dream. Getting married, settling down. I would make it so you could quit that job you hate and have my babies. Then, if you still wanted to, you could write. We could build a whole life together. Don’t you see? It’s perfect.”
An entire alternate timeline flashed before my eyes. Me pregnant with a toddler on my hip, haggard, and lonely. Pete coming home from work late, demanding dinner. My writing forgotten. Any other friendships long gone.
I said calmly, “You don’t care about any of my dreams. You only care that you have me.”
I stepped back.
“That’s not true.” He stood and the anger from only a few moments ago was back. My response had clearly not been part of his plan.
“You could have made that proposal to anybody. I don’t think you even know me at all.” The words dawned on me as I spoke them. I was literally just an available woman to him. He wanted the plan, and he thought I would slide perfectly into that role.
“And who knows you, huh? Who do you show yourself to at all?” he snapped.
RC. I didn’t voice it, but it must have shown on my face.
“Right. Your little online buddy. I fucking knew something was going on there.” He slammed the ring box on the dresser.
“It’s not that at all—”
“Like hell it’s not. He’s probably just sitting there waiting for your next message so he can say, ‘Haha, I have this guy’s girlfriend and he’s so clueless.’ You made an idiot out of me.”
Pete’s anger really wasn’t about my rejection at all. This was his fragile male ego talking. I could not get him out of this room fast enough.
“Listen. I’m sorry I brought you here. But you need to go. You can’t stay here with me. I can help pay for another hotel room, but you cannot stay here.” I’d figure out the money. I’d dip into my savings if I had to. I could not and would not be with this man for another moment. I’d been so stupid. So desperate to just not be alone. I felt rejected and vulnerable when I met him. If my mom taught me anything, it’s that I did not give men control of my value. I had been the only one bending to make our relationship work. Both parties should be doing that. Not just one person. I had goals and plans. If Pete didn’t take me seriously, how could I be with him? How would I ever be able to look myself in the mirror?
“You think I want to be here now? With all your crushes wandering around? I saw how you flirted with Harrison. How you were stalking Charles.”
I started to pack his suitcase. “You need to leave. You and I are done. When I get back, I’ll box up the stuff you’ve left at my place.”
Thankfully, I’d never given him a key. How had he integrated himself so fully into my life when I had hardly given him permission?
“Kate. You’re going to regret this.” His dark vehemence was back. He ripped the suitcase from my hands and finished throwing his stuff in there. Maybe I should have waited until he was more sober to have this conversation, but a nagging voice told me this was just the beginning of his dark side. The sooner he was out of my life, the better.
“You won’t get another shot with a guy like me. Not the way you hide yourself away from everyone living in that fantasy world. Not with the way you are obsessed with that stupid old TV show. You’re lucky I found you.” He paused on his way out the door to grip my upper arms.
“Let go of me now,” I said calmly.
He looked at his hands as if he was confused as to how they even got there.
“What about my mom? What am I supposed to say to her? I told her I was marrying you. She’s sick.” He frantically searched my face, his pitch whiny now. His mother never even warmed to me. She’d always been so icy the times we’d gone to her house. I never felt good enough for her boy.
I scoffed in utter disbelief. “You’ll figure it out.”
“You’re making a mistake.” It was a threat.
“Maybe,” I said. “But I’m okay with that.”
With that, he was out the door, and I locked it behind him.
No more of this. How quickly I had almost lost sight of my dreams for a man who didn’t trust or care about me.
My mother raised me better than that, and I wouldn’t do it again.
18
