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I hold back a sarcastic response about sending nudes.
“I forwarded him the last update I had and told him we were heading up north for the weekend.”
“Great!” He scoffs, hitting the steering wheel again and glares at me, taking his eyes off the road. “So now he knows not to text you all weekend since your fiancé will be around. Do you think you’re being sneaky? Why would you say it like that?”
“What are you even talking about?!” Even for him, this is paranoid. Does hewantme to have an affair with Carl just so he can be right?
“This,Jordana.This! You don’t know how to talk to people! You don’tthink!” He stabs his finger into his temple. “You’re so lucky I put up with you. I don’t know any other man who would tolerate your behavior. Why do I put myself through this? God, if people only knew?—”
“There’s nothing going on between us, I’m sorry!”
“How would I know if you’re always telling men when it’s safe to text and when it isn’t? Maybe someday you’ll learn how to show me the same amount of respect I show you. I mean, are you the stupid one or am I?”
I stare straight ahead at the road.
“Who’s stupid, Jordana. You or me?”
Does he really expect me to answer?
This time he raises his voice louder. “Am I stupid for putting up with you?”
“No,” I whisper, hunching in my seat.
“So, you admit you’re the idiot. Glad you got that figured out. Start using your brain.” He shakes his head and sighs. “I’m sorry. I’m just trying to help you. If we’re going to get married, we need to learn how to communicate.”
Don’t react, it only makes these conversations last longer.My head is spinning. I want to stop fighting and move past this.
For the rest of the car ride, we remain silent. The less we say, the better, and the less he’ll have to criticize. But I can’t help but wonder if he’s right. Was it weird to text Carl I was going away for the weekend with my fiancé? Is that some rule I don’t know about? Did I give the wrong impression?Fuck.
I lay my head back, and the endless pines that line the long two-way highway blur as we whiz by. Closing my eyes, I enjoy the warm strobe of shadows and sunlight on my eyelids. There aren’t many weeks of sunshine left.
When we arrive, he retrieves our bags from the trunk, slams it, and turns to me.
“Give me your phone.”
“Why?”
He grits his teeth. “Because I said so.”
I hand it over; he already knows thepassword. He swipes and scrolls through my text messages, then wrinkles his nose when he doesn’t find anything.
I don’t know what makes me say it... “Let me seeyourphone.”
Bryan scoffs and shakes his head. “No.”
“You get to look at my phone, why can’t I look at yours?”
“Because I’m not the one doing shady shit. You are.”
I roll my eyes, and he drops my phone in the gravel drive, picks up our suitcases, and carries them toward the house.
Holding my breath, I retrieve my phone from the ground and breathe a sigh of relief when the screen isn’t cracked. That should be the least of my problems, but it’s the little things.
Bursting in the front door, Bryan weaves his fingers with mine and dons a big fake smile. “We’re here!”
The massive family cabin has been transformed into an upscale party. White panels of fabric are draped between the exposed log beams above. Strands of Edison bulbs span the room. They’re trying to make it look more rustic despite this being an eight-thousand square-foot luxury lodge.
An open bar with two attendants has been set up on one end, and cocktail tables are evenly placed, each featuring a centerpiece made of greenery and fresh flowers. The large stone fireplace that reaches the ceiling at the other end of the room has had the logs replaced with about fifty tall white pillar candles in various sizes. The mantle is adorned with greenery that matches the centerpieces.
