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I close the door and follow her, kneeling in front of her. I try to grab her eyes with mine, but she keeps her gaze on Oscar. I reach for her hands and am bolstered when she lets me take them, she doesn't pull away.
"Betty, angel?" I begin. "I'm so sorry. I always meant to tell you. I waited too long and then it never felt like the right time..."
She pulls her hands from mine and gathers Oscar into her arms, putting him between us. "Get up," she says after a long moment of silence.
I do what she says, too scared and pissed at myself to argue. She looks up at me finally and I get a good look at those deep brown eyes that I love. They aren't sad.
No, they're full of anger.
I was wrong, she's not hurt. She's fucking furious with me. I don't know that the fact makes me feel any better. She's still been crying and it's all my fault.
"Tell me what to do to fix this and I'll do it, Betty."
I'm being serious. I'd do anything, give anything, not to have done this to us.
"I don't know that you can," she says after another long silence between us. I don't know if she's doing it on purpose just to torture me, or if she's really having that much trouble figuring out what to say to me right now.
"I always intended to tell you, Betty. I swear I did. I know that doesn't fix it but please tell me we can get passed this."
She meets my eyes again, andnowthere's sadness there. A single tear falls down her face and she takes a shuddering breath. It breaks me, that tear and I reach out and wipe it away with my thumb. "I think maybe you should leave," she says. "I thought hearing you explain would make it better but it's not..." she swallows and shakes her head. "It all boils down to you not trusting me, Gus. And I don't know that I see a way through that for us."
I drink in the sight of her, that red sweater she had on the night of our first date, with black leggings and bare feet. Her long black hair is down, falling all around her. Her beautiful, perfect face is sad and it's my fault. Her image is burned into my mind now. I reach for her but let my hand fall away when she moves back from me.
"I'm so sorry," I say. And then I do as she told me and I leave.
betty
Five days.Five long days of no contact with Gus. It's been hard. The hardest thing I've dealt with since I lost my dad.
I never thought I'd feel this low again.
I guess I fell too hard, and way too fast, that's for sure.
Gus isn't making it any easier.
He texts and calls me every day. He's sent flowers, a plant, edible arrangements and a gift basket full of spa products that I could never begin to afford along with a gift certificate to a spa. I haven't opened or used anything. That feels wrong. But I can't send them back either.
He even went to Polly's at five in the morning looking to see if he could catch me making a delivery. Greta told me he just missed me one morning.
I refuse to answer him or respond in any way.
So far, anyway. Who knows how long I'll be able to stay strong.
I don't know that I can forgive him for this. I'm still stewing on things. I have so many questions.
Did he really think that I couldn't be trusted with the information that he's wealthy? Is that what he really thinks of me? Has this all been some kind of weird game for him? Did he play me for some reason? Lie to me about other things? Bigorlittle things.
Like how he said I'm beautiful and that he loves me.
Does he really like fudge ripple ice cream?
I don't know and I hate not knowing. It's making me crazy.
But I also don't want to talk to him to find out.
Besides, how can I trust him again when he was holding back something so huge? How do I move forward with him?
I must have sounded so stupid to him, worrying over how much money he spent.
