THE EXCUSES
BECKY
The sounds of my manic pacing echoed around the otherwise silent home. My hands ran through my hair with frenzied abandon as I wracked my brain for…something. Standing in the steam of the bathroom for only moments made it go from smooth and sultry to frizzy in no time flat, and the same happened to my mood.
What did I just see? Is it what I think it is?
I didn’t realize how closely I was listening to the sounds of our home until I could no longer hear the shower running in the en-suite. I stopped moving and listened until I could make out the click of the bathroom door opening and closing.
Images of him stepping out of the shower—towel slung low, hair damp, and that clean, masculine scent—flashed unbidden through my mind. For an instant, I almost smiled at the thought of my soon-to-be husband. Then the memory turned on me, cruel and sharp. The sweetness curdled into pain, then into an absolutely maddening and barely controllable rage.
A few more seconds, and the creak of the bed springs let me know he was not coming out to talk to me.
Good.
It was agoodthing he went straight to bed after his shower because I had gone straight to the butcher’s block in our kitchen. I had itchy fingers, an abundance of fury, and two names in my head. One of which resided in the same home as me. Conveniently.
It was cliché, but while my man was teetering on the edge of future copulation capabilities, I came to a very clear conclusion: I fucking hated Tay Winky-fucking-face.
It didn’t take mental gymnastics to realize thisTaywas Taylor who ruined our date the previous week.
Why was she even a blip on his radar? Could he have been clueless about how inappropriate this was?
Did I tell him? Am I supposed to make this boundary?
He changed her contact to include a nickname and a mother fucking emoji! That’s not friendship. That’s foreplay. Right?
I grabbed the nearest kitchen towel, which smelled suspiciously like fajitas, and screamed wordlessly into it while my dog made a concerned little whine at my feet. My mind and body and heart were all twisting out of my control.
I needed to get my shit together.
But first, I needed to lose my shit.
I needed to rage and break things, including that fucking phone and its owner’s fucking face.
Instead, I buried my face back into my kitchen towel and sat on the floor with my dog.Deep breaths. I had to calm my racing heart, settle my spiraling mind, and figure out what to do next. So, I took a few more minutes to practice my deep breathing and successfully snuffed out my homicidal urges for the night and decided that I needed to have a better picture before I went in after him, guns ablazing.
I was exhausted, yet not tired.
I felt icky in my seduction outfit and with the idea of sleeping next tohim.
I stood up and started pacing again, considering what I needed. All I came up with was that I needed to feel something good after a day of so much bad.
I decided to change into my generic long shirt short shorts combo, get a container of Nutella, a cup of tea, and a comfort read. I was going to veg in the living room until I fell asleep. First, I had to get my PJs from the bedroom.
Please be asleep. Or maybe please be awake?I wasn’t sure which would make me feel better.
I dragged my feet back to our room and pushed the door open as nonchalantly as possible and…apparently, I psyched myself out for no reason. He didn’t even look up from his phone when I slipped into the room to grab my stuff, and my heart broke a little.
Was he talking to her?
I walked past him, and dug into my dresser drawer, skirting past his items I’d pilfered and instead focusing on my own clothes. Silently making a pile on top of the dresser of comfort clothes for my night away from my sketchy-ass fiancé, I tried to ignore the fact that he was actively ignoring my existence.
The tap-tapping of his fingers on his screen made me want to break his phone in half. Instead, I finished gathering everything in hand and plodded back into the guestroom slash office to change. Comfy clothes on, I wandered back into the kitchen—only to see all of the food I’d ordered still sitting on the island. We weren’t exactly poor, but we weren’t well off. We couldn’t let everything go to waste. I put the containers with my goodies in the fridge with some tinfoil wrapped around it and packed Carter’s lunch. I didnotinclude the egg rolls or chopsticks. He lost that privilege for…reasons I didn’t want to think about any longer. A strange clang from the wall told me it was already nine.
The kettle started, my tea was selected, and when I turned to grab my mug, I saw Carter’s favorite mug, with the little ten mm wrench handle, sitting next to my own punny cup. I quietly put it away and looked at my mug, now alone, and my heart hurt a little bit more.
My shoulders were slumped, heavy with the weight of uncertainty as I walked into the living room. My peppermint tea with cream enveloped me in its comforting scent. My favorite spot on the couch was illuminated by the perfect reading lamp. I pulled the freshlywashed, fuzzy blanket across my lap and read my go-toPride and Prejudicelate into the night. The items surrounding me lulled me into a semblance of peace until I calmed enough to fall into a fitful sleep, alone.
