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I was stepping outside the lobby of my apartment building to get into the Uber when a familiar silver Porsche rolled up behind it. I didn’t look at Simon. I had to do this my way.
The Uber driver rolled down his window. “Donohue?”
I looked from him to Simon and back again.
Simon hopped out of his car and handed the guy a fifty. “She’s found another driver. Sorry for the inconvenience.”
The guy grinned. “No problemo, man,” he said and drove off without a backward glance.
Simon took my bag and stowed it in the trunk. His movements were calm and measured, which said he was controlling himself with some effort. A lock of hair hung in his eyes, and I wanted to smooth it behind his ears again but didn’t dare touch him.
“Get in,” he said, his voice neutral.
I stood, transfixed, and contemplated the sense of getting into a car with a man whose face was taut with anger. Refusal wasn’t really an option, though, especially not now that he had sent my Uber away, so I did what I was told. I avoided looking at him in case the heat of his temper melted me into a puddle of bones and tissue. The tires squealed slightly as he pulled into traffic. We didn’t get far. The nightly performance at the Bard on the Beach Festival had just finished and the roads were clogged with traffic. We crawled along at a snail’s pace.
I glanced at my watch. “I’m going to be late for check in,” I said softly.
Simon hit a button on his screen and dialed the airline. When someone answered, he identified himself by membership number and waited. The person on the other end of the line was probably looking at his profile, spellbound by the astronomical number of points in Simon’s loyalty account. I was listed as an associate on that account, but I only used those special privileges when I traveled with Simon. Which had been always until now. Since the second week I’d known him, I’d never traveled without him.
He gave my name and flight details and said I might be a minute or two late, but I’d arrive well before boarding closed and I was traveling with only a carryon bag. The woman at the other end said, “We have Miss Donohue traveling economy. Is that correct?”
“That’s an error.” Simon spoke slowly. “Upgrade her to first class.”
“I’m sorry, Mister Jacobson. We only have business on this flight but there are seats available.”
When he got off the phone, he nudged the car forward in the creeping traffic and said, “You didn’t need to economize for my sake.”
“I wasn’t. I was going to pay for this myself.”
To his credit, he didn’t ask if I’d made that decision as a result of my mother’s whispers about our extravagant lifestyle. I had, but it seemed the wrong time for that admission.
We drove for a while before he said, “Someone in this car has earned herself a major spanking. But I wouldn’t give it to her if she begged me for it.”
I gulped at that harsh statement. I’d never seen him so angry. Or had I? Either way, I had no sensible answer, so I held my tongue. We rode the rest of the way in bristling silence, right until the moment he pulled into the executive valet parking bay. It was 10:25, exactly one hour before takeoff. The valet approached my door, but Simon caught her eye, held up a finger to indicate he needed another minute and locked the car before she could open it. At the sound of the central lock engaging, she stepped back, white-gloved hands at her side, and her eyes focused on a point in the far distance. She was a staff member we saw often when we flew. Simon always tipped her generously so he probably could have sat there all night if he wanted.
He waited a minute before he turned to speak to me. “I’m so angry right now, I wouldn’t spank you if I had the time and place to do it.” He spoke quietly and his whisper was more ominous than shouting.
“Japan?” I asked. It was our code word for the one and only time he’d completely lost self-control. I could have stopped him back then, but I didn’t want to. I wanted to prove he couldn’t break me, and it had ended in a standoff that was a learning experience for both of us.
“Japan.” He chewed his lower lip for a second. “This is only the second time you’ve made me this angry but, as I promised, I won’t spank you when I can’t be certain of maintaining restraint.”
Reasoning with him seemed pointless but I had to try. “I had to make my own decision and make it quickly. I know how important the South American deal is. What should I have done?”
He took my left hand and fiddled with my engagement ring. Ignoring all his reassurances from that afternoon, I imagined him asking for the ring back. My imagination conjured the image of him telling me I was simply too much work for a busy man like him. Deep down, I still thought that I wasn’t good enough for him.
He didn’t read any of those thoughts, just launched into a lecture. “At the very least you should have sent me another message and waited for my reply, as instructed. I would have left the meeting for a minute or two. No, I wouldn’t have stopped the meeting dead, but when you’re in crisis, I’m in crisis.” He held my hand, palm upward.
Even though displeasure still sparked in his voice and eyes, he kissed my hand tenderly and I shivered. “That’s the whole point of having a partner, my love. So there’s someone there to share tough times. I can’t tell you the fury that swamped me when I walked out of the boardroom, and found you were gone. You deliberately disobeyed me.”
“I did. But I had a good reason. I intended to send you a message from the airport, hoping I’d be able to talk to you before takeoff. I didn’t know you were going to wind things up so fast! The last time you met with them, you started at lunch one day and ended up still negotiating over breakfast the next. I didn’t want to wait until tomorrow to fly out. My mom’s really a mess.”
I thought of how a defense lawyer might argue my case:ladies and gentlemen of the jury, the defendant’s expectation, built on months of firsthand experience, told her that the meeting would be a much longer one.In a reasonable court, I would have been acquitted. Not so in the court of Simon, where the rules of intention and prior crimes were closely scrutinized. He knew I’d walked out without consultation because I was making a point, proving that I could make some decisions without asking him. We’d had that conversation before.
He was angry but he wasn’t the only one. I was angry, guilt-stricken, and defiant all at once. What a terrible way to say good-bye for an indeterminate length of time.
“One question,” he said. “If I tell you I’m going to do something, do I do it?”
I thought for a few minutes. I couldn’t think of a single commitment he’d ever made and broken. From the very first date, when he said he would phone the next night, he had followed through.
