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I slam the bottle down on the island countertop, my palms resting on either side of it as I lean forward. “You’re so goddamn righteous. Some people might say that a lie by omission is still a lie. I’ve tried for how long to get out of you the real reason you left your old brokerage, and every time I ask, you dodge the question. You were never fully in this relationship, so don’t make it seem like I’m the only one who had reservations going in.”
“We don’t have a relationship, remember? You made that perfectly clear! And my reasons are personal!” She’s yelling, but I don’t even care at this point.
“We are in a relationship. Maybe we didn’t say the word and we told ourselves it was just fun, but I don’t go antiquing with the women I fuck. I don’t take hours exploring their body. I don’t take them to five-star restaurants, and I certainly don’t leave them texts begging to come over. You’re my fucking girlfriend, whether you want to admit it to yourself or not, and we both know it.”
“Have you fucked any other clients?”
I shake my head and down the entire beer. “And you still can’t trust me.”
“I can’t trust you because you lied.”
We’re at a standstill. I’m so aggravated and pissed off, and I’m at a loss of what to say to get her to understand that she’s the first woman I’ve cared about in a decade.
“I’m sorry I lied. I knew you’d think less of me and we’d just gotten over the whole you-hating-me hump. We were talking and we weren’t anything yet and it wasn’t something I felt you needed to know. I forgot about it as soon as we finished the conversation. Even if I had thought of it after we were together, I don’t know if I would have brought it up. If I told you that I’d slept with Margo, you’d go back to thinking what a bad guy I was. That I wasn’t the guy you were discovering I was deep down. I wanted you to know the real me, not the person you thought I was. But it was wrong not to answer honestly when you asked.”
Her strong stance sways and she stares at the floor.
“Come on, Bella, we can move on from this.” I’m halfway to her, and from her appearance, it looks as if I’m getting somewhere with her. “I want to explore this thing with you because I think we’re perfect together.”
Just as I’m inches away from touching her, she retreats, her eyes back to being two green balls of rage. “I’m sorry, we can’t. I can’t.”
Just like that, she hurries out my door, slamming it. I throw my beer bottle into the back of it, and it smashes into brown shards across my wood floor.
“Fuck!”
This is exactly why I shouldn’t do relationships.
