“Pick you up? From where?”
“An ex-boyfriend’s house. My car broke down when I was trying to leave.”
You’ve got to be kidding me.
How the hell am I supposed to get involved in that? How is it going to look if I show up at some ex’s place to grab her? I know how men are when it comes to their women, because I’m the same with mine.
Why is Sarah even at her ex’s house?
Who is this ex?
Is she still fucking him?
And why is that any of my concern anyway?
“Can’t you call a ride?” I ask, trying to be reasonable.
“I mean I could but… it’s okay,” she says, and that break in her voice makes me feel uneasy.
What would be the reason that Sarah would call me specifically to pick her up and not a ride? Maybe she feels threatened. The rides are obligated that if they feel like their life is in danger, they can just take off and call the police. Is Sarah in danger?
“Sarah, are you okay?”
“Um…”
I hear a male voice in the background. Sarah yells something that I can’t understand. The male voice says something again and Sarah yells.
“I told you to go away!” Sarah screams angrily.
“Get back in the fucking house. You don’t get to fucking walk away from me when you do that shit, you fucking bitch.”
I feel my heart pound in rage. Regardless of what is going on between these two, I feel an intense need to protect Sarah. She’s my assistant, maybe even more than that at this point with how closely we work together.
“Sarah, ping me the location. I’m coming to get you.”
“No it’s okay, don’t worry about it,” she says, then she hangs up the phone on me.
I’m breathing hard, pacing the living room now as I call her back.
“Baby?” Gabby’s voice scares the shit out of me, causing me to jump a little.
“You scared me,” I say, not wanting to deal with this right now.
“I’m sorry. Everything okay?” she asks, wrapping her arms around herself, wearing one of my white shirts.
“Yeah… I… um… I got to go into work for a little while,” I say.
“What?” She looks disappointed. “But it’s Sunday.”
“Yeah… it’s kind of an emergency. I’m sorry, baby,” I say, walking over to her and giving her a kiss on the lips.
When I try to leave to get my keys to the car I barely drive, she gently pulls my wrist. God damn it, I need to leave. I can’t tell the truth and say that Sarah is in danger because it’s going to start a whole bunch of shit, and I don’t want to lie to my wife. And the longer I stay here is the more lies that…
“What’sreallygoing on? Your phone was ringing and you’re down here whispering to someone. What is so bad that you feel like you have to hide it from me?” she asks suspiciously.
Fucking hell.
For just once in my life, I wish my wife wasn’t so damn nosy. Things would be so much easier, less dramatic, less tense. I weigh the options in my mind. If I have to deal with this past this, I’m going to have to make up more lies.
