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Peter hastily stuffed the light-colored thing back into the closet, not even bothering to make sure it was hung. It dropped to the floor in a crumpled heap as he slammed the closet door shut without finding clothes for himself. “I should’ve gotten rid of it,” he hurried to say. “But I hadn’t gotten around to it, and I forgot it was in there until just now and, and—”
“You were going to let me wear your ex-girlfriend’s dress,” I said, offering a bitter laugh as I turned to walk out of the room to find my damn underwear and pants.
There was no way I was going to his parents’ house now. No way I would sit there, eating their food and pretending everything was fine while I knew some other woman he had slept with still had her clothes stuffed in his closet. I couldn’t just sit there and pretend nothing was wrong, especially after the night I had.
And what the hell was it about the men I knew anyway? Why the hell did they make it their mission to do everything in their power to make me question my choices every step of the way?
“Lennon, don’t be mad.”
“I’m not mad,” I replied, and it was the truth. “I’m disappointed.”
“Why?”
I bent over to squint down at something that sort of looked like fabric, only to find it was just a part of the rug. Groaning, I stood up and saw Peter standing behind the couch, wearing his underwear and looking pitiful.
“Why?” I repeated, incredulous. “Youknewit was your old girlfriend’s dress, and still, you offered it to me anyway. Who does that?”
“I wasn’t thinking,” he replied, helpless, as he shrugged. “It was stupid.”
“Yeah, it was.”
I kicked at another part of the rug, grateful to find that this time it was in fact my underwear. I bent over, snatched the scrap of cotton off my big toe, and tugged it on before going in search of my pants.
“I’m sorry.”
I stopped from bending over beside the couch, where my pants hid in a darkened crevice, and looked in Peter’s direction. I couldn’t make out the expression on his face, but his arms hung helplessly against his sides, keeping his chest open and unguarded. The inflection in his tone had been genuine and full of heart, and I already knew I was going to forgive him.
“It’s okay,” I replied, grasping my hands and picking at my cuticles.
“It’s not though. It was a stupid, stupid thing to say, and—”
“Peter, really, it’s okay.”
He walked around the couch in a hurry and hugged me in a desperate embrace. The tension I held in my shoulders loosened while I was wrapped in his arms, and I let him cup my face and kiss me again and again until we found ourselves on the couch. Making love slowly without any other purpose than to apologize for a stupid dress, mistakes, and nearly giving up on this for something so trivial. Especially when I had recently forgiven another man for things far more serious.
But not anymore.
***
We were fashionably late to brunch and walked into his parents’ house just as everyone else had started to eat. Upon entering, I took note of how neat and almost surgical the place was. Bright carpet matched a bright couch, everything stood in a flat palette of what I assumed to be white, and I feared tracking a speck of dirt across the matching tiled floor. This wasn’t the type of home I lived in, nor was it the type I’d want to keep. But I didn’t want to disrespect his family, and so I asked if I should take off my shoes.
Peter chuckled, like I was adorable for asking, and gestured toward the row of shoes beside the door. “Right over there.”
I glanced at his feet, realizing then that while I was busy staring at the pristine living room, he had already taken his off. Observation wasn’t always my strong point—for reasons I didn’t need to explain—but I felt my cheeks heat with embarrassment as I kicked my sneakers off.
“Let’s go,” Peter said, taking my hand and leading me through the living room toward an open doorway.
Usually, I kept my eyes on the ground, in an attempt to spot any oncoming steps or obstacles. But with Peter leading the way, I hadn’t thought to, assuming he would give me a heads-up if need be.
He didn’t.
At the step downward, my knee buckled, and my nose smacked against his back.
“Whoa,” he said, already laughing. “You okay there?”
Tears of humiliation pricked the back of my eyes as I held my aching nose. “I didn’t see that step,” I explained stupidly.
“Well, for future reference,” he said, continuing into the dining room, “there’s a step.”
