“Don’t be like that?” I repeated. “Don’t be likewhat, Jeremy, like the fiancée you screwed over? Don’t be likethat?”
“It was a mistake. Jeremy got to his feet, looking distraught, and I wanted so badly to throw something heavy at him. “I made a mistake.”
“How manymistakeswere there, Jeremy?” I pushed the glass of water aside so I wouldn’t accidentally break it over his head. Then I stood up from the table. “Just that one? Or were there more? Was there some undergrad student every night that you didn’t come home on time?”
“No. I—”
“Think hard before you answer,” I said. Jeremy fell silent, chin dipping slightly. The secrets were written all over his face. “Get out,” I said.
“Paisley…”
“I said get out, Jeremy, and don’t come back. You’re not welcome here anymore.”
“And what about you?” Jeremy rounded on me suddenly, his mask of pathetic devastation switched suddenly for one of spitting rage. “What about you and all your boyfriends at the station, huh?”
“You are a fucking idiot,” I seethed. “They are my colleagues, my coworkers. Half of them are in serious relationships, and the other half of them can barely stand me. What boyfriend are you referring to, asshole?”
“Don’t play coy, Paisley. I saw how the Hansen guy looked at you the day of the accident. The sexual tension was undeniable.”
“Jesus,” I cried and threw my hands in the air. “I can’t even talk to you, Jeremy. You justify my relationship with my coworkers by going out and fucking the first gullible student you have?”
“It’s not like that.”
“I’m not really interested to know what itislike.” I was worn out, exhausted, angry—I wanted this night to be over, even if I never saw Jeremy again. I wasn’t sure if my utter loathing and disgust for him would ever change, but I couldn’t even look at him now. So, I walked to the front door and opened it, stepping to the side. “You can leave.”
“Paisley.”
“I mean now.”
Giving me one last pathetic, puppy dog look, Jeremy shrugged on his jacket and walked out the door, closing it behind him, and then all was silent.
* * *
My alarm went off at six-thirty the next morning for work. I was just rolling out of bed with a splitting headache when my phone on the nightstand rang. Cursing, I grabbed it and put it to my ear.
“Hello?”
“Sweetheart, it’s Mom.”
“Shit,” I said.
“What was that, dear?”
“I said ‘hi, Mom.’” I groaned and sat up on the bed, rubbing the sleep from my eyes. “I have to get ready for work. What’s up?”
“What’sup, Paisley, is that Jeremy called your father and me last night. He was devastated and told us you had kicked him out. Have you?”
I yawned, stretched, and shuffled to the kitchen to put on a pot of coffee, rubbing the sleep from my eyes and the hangover headache from my skull.
“Yes, Mom, I kicked him out,” I said. “And?”
“And?” Mom shrieked. “What were you thinking, Paisley? This young man is your fiancé, not some God-forsaken one-night-stand.”
“He’s a fucking chauvinist, Mom,” I said, and there was no disguising my bitterness. “Did he happen to tell youwhyI kicked him out?”
“Well, no, but he—”
“Maybe the college girl who had her hands wrapped around his dick last night can recount the story for you,” I said, and my mother gasped in horror on the other end of the line.
