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Leaving my stuff in the hall, I cross the threshold into a room in which I’m no longer welcome. As I falter in the doorway of the bathroom, her gaze meets mine in the mirror. Tears hang on her lashes, threatening to spill from icy blue eyes. If not for the stubborn line of her mouth, I’d think she was finally about to crack and let me in.
No such luck. Ignoring my presence, she takes a pill bottle from the medicine cabinet and shakes two tiny blue tablets into her waiting palm. Her gaze flashes to mine again as she chases those pills down with a sip of water.
Other than birth control, Monica doesn’t take medicine. She’s the type of person that won’t even take aspirin unless absolutely necessary. I step all the way into the bathroom, dread diving to the bottom of my gut as I lay my hands on her shoulders.
“What are the pills for?”
“None of your business.”
“It’s absolutely my fucking business. Are you sick?”
“No.”
“Then what the hell is this?” I try to pry the pill bottle from her grasp, but she whirls around to face me, fisting it behind her back.
“Don’t you have a plane to catch?”
I draw in a deep, calming breath. “You said I put everything before you. Well here’s me putting you first. What’s going on?”
“Nothing you need to worry about.”
“But I am worried. First the drinking, and now popping pills? For fuck’s sake, Monica! Just tell me what’s wrong.”
“It doesn’t matter. Just go already.”
“You begged me to stay ten minutes ago. Now you’re pushing me away? Again?” Dragging an agitated hand through my hair, I try not to lose my shit. But her continued silence isn’t making it easy. “I’m finding less and less reasons for us to stay together.”
Monica darts around me and leaves the bathroom, and I follow, quick on her heels. She stalks into the hall and grabs the handle of my luggage.
“Wouldn’t want you to be late.”
I take the suitcase from her, no doubt gaping at her like an idiot. Because I sure as hell feel like an idiot. “What happened to us?”
Still clutching the pill bottle, she won’t meet my eyes. Her vacant mask is back in place, any hint of tears dried up. “I don’t know.”
That makes two of us. Part of me hopes that a week apart to think things through will offer some clarity. But I’m not a total fool. Until she’s willing to let me in, my hands are tied.
