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The doorbell rings. I assume it’s Wyatt, returning to try and talk me out of breaking it off with him. I open the door and Marty and Ginger push past me into my house. I close the door, holding my hand out with a giant smug grin plastered to my face. “Someone owes me a hundred bucks.”
“I’m broke,” Marty says. “But I’ll cook breakfast.”
Ginger and I sit on the barstools at the kitchen island, while Marty makes eggs and bacon. I fill them in on my night with Battle, without sparing a single detail. My best friends stare at me in silence. I can’t decide if they’re shocked, or they don’t believe me.
“Are you okay?” Marty asks, concern clear in the tone of her voice. “I mean, it’s so unlike you, and this is a pretty darn big deal!”
“I know, but I’m fine, honestly,” I assure her.
I butter two pieces of toast and load my plate with eggs and bacon. My stomach rumbles and I feel a little queasy, but I’m starving.
“Are you gonna tell Wyatt?” Ginger asks.
“No!” Both Marty and I shout. I continue, “He was on my door step when I got home.”
“Oh shit.” Ginger gasps. “What did he want?”
“He proposed,” I say nonchalantly, popping the last bite of my piece of bacon into my mouth.
“No way!” Marty yells. “Okay, you need to tell him. If you’re gonna marry the guy, you don’t want to carry that kind of weight around.”
“I said no.”
They’re quiet again, staring at me in definite disbelief now. Finally, Ginger asks, “Did you say no because you want to be with Battle?”
I laugh hard, until I choke. “Nope. Battle’s only interested in boinkin’, and while it was freakin’ off the charts good, I want more. I told Wyatt no, because I’m done playin’ second fiddle to whoever, or whatever, means more to him. I can’t marry him until he proves himse
lf.”
Marty sits next to me. “Are you sure about this? What if it doesn’t work out?” she asks, the undertones of her voice presenting more disappointment than concern.
Marty struggles with the idea of me and Wyatt not being a couple more than I do. Not because she adores Wyatt, but I think she’d always hoped to end up with Wyatt’s best friend, Gunner, although she would never admit to it.
“Then it was never meant to be,” I tell her softly, patting her hand. “Enough about me. I want to hear what happened with the two of you after I left.”
“JT and Cooper dropped us off at Ginger’s,” Marty says and shrugs. “It was a major bummer. About twenty minutes after you left with Battle, JT wanted to leave and offered us a ride.”
“You’re lyin’,” I say, giggling.
Her serious expression confirms she isn’t lying, which is strange. JT and Cooper appeared to be interested in my best friends.
It’s been two weeks, well sixteen days, since I dramatically altered my life’s plan. Wyatt hasn’t texted or called. So much for his proving himself. His lack of communication validates putting an end to our relationship. He’s a master of empty promises, and I’m done believing him. My faith is lost.
I haven’t been sad. Stranger even, I haven’t missed him. His absence means I don’t have to sit through dinner listening to him ramble on about how amazing he is. He’s not making snide comments under his breath about what I did to annoy him, what I’m wearing, or how much makeup I have on. I can have Marty and Ginger over without having to hear his verbal bashing of my friends when they leave. Wyatt doesn’t like anyone other than his two close friends, Gunner and Robert. Anyone else he finds fault with.
He isn’t talking down to me, or tuning me out when I talk. Dinner isn’t too hot or too cold. I haven’t had to pretend I don’t notice his wandering eye. There haven’t been any arguments that are never his fault. I haven’t had to listen to how tired he is, only for him to jump up five seconds later when his friends want to go out. Without Wyatt around, I don’t have to worry about what I say for fear he won’t approve.
Wow. I never realized how long my list of grievances had grown or how far from what I want I’d ventured to save our relationship.
Theoretically, time apart should make the heart grow fonder, but for me, the distance has been a revelation. Breaking up with the man I thought would be my husband should make me sad, but I feel like celebrating my independence.
Sharing my current relationship status with my parents won’t be easy. I haven’t seen them since I broke up with Wyatt. I’ve spoken to them on the phone, and since neither of them mentioned it, I know Wyatt hasn’t discussed our separation with his parents, either. I’m meeting them for dinner tonight, and I plan to share the news, although I’m dreading their reaction.
I crawl out of bed, shower, and apply some light makeup for work. At some point, I need to take in my dry cleaning. It’s piled up, leaving me with an outfit I’m not thrilled with wearing: a short black skirt and a cream-colored sleeveless, cowl-neck sweater, which scoops lower than I’m comfortable with. I slip them both on with my black pumps and gold hoop-earrings.
Not having adequate time to blow dry my hair, I wrap it in a bun on top of my head, securing it with a cream and black, cheetah print hanky. After I squirt a few sprays of perfume, I grab my keys and purse to leave for work.
On my drive to the office, I remember I have a new client coming in this morning. My boss, Mr. Fenton, called me late last night to fill me in on the young, spoiled brat with too much money, who needs a ton of help managing it all. I’m dreading getting to work as much as dinner with my parents.
