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“No, I’m still here.” I squeeze my eyes shut, feeling sick. “When’s the interview?”
“They’d like to see you next Monday. How’s that sound? Ten in the morning? I’ll email you all the details and we can have a short discussion about it beforehand if you’d like.”
“Email me,” I say, thinking I might throw up. “That sounds great. Thank you so much.”
“Sure, I’ll be in touch.”
I hang up. I can’t stay on the phone, not when I feel like I might break apart.
He found me a job. He found me a dream job.
But it’s in Dallas.
He must’ve known that meant I wouldn’t be able to move to Boston with him.
Why would he do that?
Our plan was clear, we had everything settled. I’ve been looking for apartments the last couple of days and already have a short list.
Now I hear he’s convincing Janine to get me a job.
In Dallas. Far away from Boston.
A job he knows I’d kill to have. A job he knows I won’t want to pass up.
What’s he thinking? What the hell does this mean?
I raise the phone, thinking I’ll call him, beg him to explain—
Tears roll down my face and I think back to the night before.
The story about Tracy. The way he says he can’t open up to anyone.
He’s not ending things—but maybe this is his way of making it so that I want to end them myself.
He’s giving me a way out. A better option.
I sink down to the floor, knees pulled to my chest and try to understand what he’s thinking, but I feel more betrayed than I ever have before.
Chapter36
Fiona
Isit on the couch, legs crossed under me, a glass of red wine cradled between my hands. Gareth’s in the kitchen pouring himself a drink, looking exhausted from a long day at work. He drifts over, glancing from me to the black TV, frowning slightly. Probably wondering why I’m sitting here in silence, doing nothing.
I have enough entertainment in my head right now. I don’t need more noise.
I’m on edge. I try to mask it, but it’s like he can see through me. Peel apart my layers, look beyond what I’m showing to the world. I squirm, trying to keep my mouth shut. I don’t want to talk about this. But I need to talk about this.
It’s killing me, this dream job.
Killing me because it’s so good and so bad at the same time.
He speaks first. “What’s the matter?”
“What do you mean, what’s the matter?” I smile at him as sweetly as I can, but I must look deranged. “Nothing’s the matter.”
“You’re grinning like you want to peel off my face and wear it.”
