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I straighten myself and take a breath. I really, really do not want to talk about this with him. Not right now. Right now was supposed to be about seduction. I was supposed to get him to open up to me, not have a breakdown in front of him. Just when I am finally feeling normal again since the explosion.
“I just really don’t want to throw up, I’ll be fine.” He just glares at me, unconvinced. “I’m fine, really. You can go, go to work.”
He grabs my chin gently and tilts my face to look at him. I think this is it. For the first time, he’s going to kiss me goodbye before he leaves. A real kiss. I look down at his mouth and back up to those gorgeous baby blues.
But I’m wrong.
He lets me go. “Alright. I’ll see you tonight.”
Then he leaves.
And I stew.
I fume, really.
All day long.
Because we aren’t any closer than before. I sleep with his arm. That’s all I get. Not even a hug goodbye in the morning or a kiss hello when he comes home. Which means he’s either still planning on ending this or he’s still reeling from the guilt.
I plan to find out which it is.
•••••
This is not my smartest plan, but it’s what I’ve got. While he’s been out the last few days, I’ve been continuing my lessons with Raul. Now, I’m ready. I’m going to leave early, take my time, and avoid highways.
And I’m going to surprise my husband.
I got my hair fixed early this morning. It’s shoulder length waves now, with layers to help blend the shortest burned section she had to chop at the back. I also had her add some wispy red money pieces around my face. I think I look bright, clean and flirty.
And I think that if I can get gussied up, track my husband down through his assistant and drive myself for the first time, surely I can have sex. Well. I can just demand sex after doing all the other things. Even if he doesn’t agree with my logic.
Sex is the answer I’ve come up with. I want him to come home with me for missionary, naked, eye-contact sex. After all we’ve been through, after everything he said when I was hurt, how he wanted to be there for me, I’m not asking too much. Hell, I’m not asking enough. If this doesn’t work and he says no, or bends me over a piece of furniture like a stranger, I’ll have my answer.
Obviously I don’t expect him to leave his meeting, although he’s got to be just as frustrated as I am. Unless he’s been...with someone else. With who knows how manysomeone elsesin DC last week.
Like with his “sister” who he is maybe lying about. He seems sincere but I know firsthand what a great actor he is. He’s told me a few more times since the explosion that she won’t return his calls. Plus, each night he’s hard as a rock behind me. But I don’t know if that’s just how men are?Ugh.I’m so tired of this. The not knowing.
It’s the frustration that fuels me through my first ever drive across town. I just took my test and got my license, but I feel like maybe they should’ve failed me. My nerves are through the roof.
But I make it.
Mark is having lunch with someone downtown at a tiny little pizza joint. It’s an authentic Italian place that seems like way too much of a dive for Mark and his colleagues. Unless they need to be seen here, photographed while beingso down to earth.That’s probably it.
I park out front and Raul pulls in beside me. He followed me the whole way, no doubt laughing, rolling his eyes at how slow I went, itching to honk at me the whole time. But I did it!
I breeze in past the empty hostess stand. The place is pretty deserted, but it’s well past the lunch hour. I smile at two employees I can see in the open kitchen area where they make the pizzas. I’m feeling confident with my new hair, heels and a romper with long sleeves. It covers all my burns but shows a lot of leg. I smile at Mark when he looks up and spots me.
In a flash, he’s out of his seat.
“What are you doing here?” He barks.
“I came to surprise you.”
He takes me by my good shoulder to turn me around. “You need to go, Eleanna. Now.”
I yank away from his hold. “No, listen, I drove myself here. With my license, see?” I motion to my car, visible out front.
“No, listen, you need—“
