I can tell that he's not looking forward to having a conversation with me. Of course he's not. What is he supposed to say? Now I know for certain that he's been talking to Sarah about this, so I wouldn't put it past the both of them having talked about me when I left.
Feeling him sink down into the bed behind me, my nerves spike and my anger climbs, but I say nothing.
He inhales again, slow.
Then exhales.
"Baby?" His voice drifts toward me like a cold breeze in the dark.
The sidelight clicks on, and my tears spill even as I stay curled. His hand rests on my waist, shaking me slightly, pretending like he thinks I'm asleep. But I know he knows better.
"Babe?"
"Leave me alone," I whisper crisply.
"We should talk."
"The time to talk should have been when I left. You should have followed me. You should have been here. You didn't even call to see whether or not I made it home."
He exhales again.
There it is.
Confirmation.
No excuse.
No half-lie about a message not going through.
Nada.
"I was upset."
"Too upset to care whether or not I was safe."
"Baby, I—" His voice trails off.
I roll onto my back, staring at the ceiling before letting my eyes slide toward him. He’s sitting beside me with his back turned, legs hanging off the edge of the bed, shoulders slumped. I can’t see his expression.
"I'm so sorry."
My heart pounds, terrified he’s about to confess something unforgivable.
"I was angry with you, honestly."
"Angry with me about what?"
"Because you embarrassed me in front of my coworkers."
"How did I embarrass you? You ignored me the entire night. And if anyone were asking, they would probably believe that Sarah was your wife."
"Gabby."
"Is something going on between you and Sarah?"
"Nothing is going on between me and Sarah."
He turns slightly, glancing over his shoulder at me.
