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“Fine. Then I’ll come to you.”
With a weak attempt at a smile, Wyatt climbed into my bed and rolled to his side, placing his arm over my stomach. It was our favorite position to lay in when we weren’t kissing each other’s faces off. I’d look up at the plastic stars, and he’d stroke the sensitive skin of my belly with the tips of his fingers. I would laugh, we would kiss, and I would be in Heaven.
Only this time, he didn’t move his hand. His arm pressed against my abdomen, and the weight of it felt foreign, strange, and I couldn’t quite figure out why.
“I really love you. You know that, right?” Wyatt said. His voice was gravelly, vulnerable. We’d only said those words a couple of times. I was always one that was more comfortable using them sparingly. Unlike Veronica and her boyfriend, Chase, who said it a dozen times a day.
Gross.
“I think I know it.”
Wyatt leaned up on his elbow. “I mean it, look at me.”
Reluctantly, I turned my head and stared into his troubled eyes. Dark circles had rested beneath his eyes for days, and I knew he wasn’t sleeping. But he refused to tell me why.
“You’re keeping something from me. And I wish you should just rip off the Band-Aid and put me out of my misery.”
“Misery?” he asked, his voice cracking. “You’re in misery?”
“It’s a figure of speech.” I shrugged. “But you have to admit that things have been off lately. You’re different, and for whatever reason, you’re shutting me out.”
“I know.” He nodded. “I don’t want to.”
“We used to talk about things all the time. Important things. Now, we’re arguing over old Prince CDs and how fast I drive. Hell, earlier today, you rolled your eyes because I asked for a different cup at Subway.”
“It had, like, a speck of dirt on it.”
“So what? I wanted a new cup, so I got one. It’s not like I asked you to rescue me. I got my own damn cup.”
“It’s not about the cup,” he snapped, rolling away and staring up at the ceiling. As if we were connected by an invisible string, I then rolled to my side, facing him.
“Then what is it about?”
His eyes turned red, and I knew he was fighting tears. I’d never seen Wyatt cry before, even when his grandmother died. He was one of those strong and stoic guys during times of tragedy. He was usually even-keeled and kind. Unlike the Wyatt I’d dealt with for days.
“Wyatt, what is going on?”
He pinched his eyebrows and stared up at my stars but said nothing.
“Are you…are you cheating on me?”
“What?” he growled.
“Well…are you?”
“I can’t believe you’re asking me that.”
“Can you blame me? You’re acting weird; you’re moody as hell. Obviously, you’re trying to push me away so I’ll break up with you.”
“No. That’s not it at all.”
“Then what?”
The pager clipped to his jeans started to buzz, and he closed his eyes tight. “I’ve got to go.”
“Fine,” I said, rolling away to the other side of the bed and placing my feet on the floor, grasping my mattress with both hands. My world was spinning out of control, and I needed something to keep me centered.
“I’m not cheating on you. I would never do that, Tilly. Not ever.”
