“I just feel really…helpless.” Grey lay back on the bed, her legs dangling over the side. She covered her eyes with her arm. Noratsked sympathetically.
“I knew that coming back to New York might be tough for him. Maybe I shouldn’t have pushed. That night at dinner…” She trailed off.
The silence hung heavy and significant between them.
“Did you…when you were together. Did you ever talk about him trying to get sober? Give him an ultimatum?” Grey’s voice was hollow. She felt exhausted.
Nora sighed again. “No. I mean, we fought about it all the time, but I never put my foot down. Maybe I should have. I’ve always believed that you can’t force anyone to change unless they want to. I hoped he would come to it on his own, but maybe I was just enabling him. Things didn’t get really bad until after Sam, andby that point I had to do what I could to protect myself, protect the girls. I couldn’t sit around and wait for him to get his shit together anymore. But I really wanted things to be different with you two. You’re so good together. He seemed…better. Like maybe he was ready.”
“Yeah.” Grey wished the conversation were over. She wanted to crawl into bed and sleep, even though it was barely dinnertime. When she woke up, Ethan would probably be back, and she could pretend everything was normal again. The knotted feeling in the pit of her stomach was no longer about the mystery of Ethan’s absence; it was about the conversation that would have to happen upon his return.
“Thank you, Nora. For everything. I’ll let you go now.”
“Anytime. I mean it.”
Though she had been anxious to hang up, once she did, she regretted it. Now there was nothing to focus on but the seemingly endless expanse of time before Ethan showed back up.
Grey thought about texting Kamilah, but she knew what she would say. That if she let this kind of thing slide even once, he would keep pushing it. She would be teaching him how to treat her. This was the moment to tell him to shape up or ship out.
But then, maybe she was being a little dramatic. Was it really such a big deal that he blew off their plansonetime—the first time ever? She didn’t even know for sure where he was. He’d been pushed into coming here. He was overwhelmed. It made sense that he would need to let off steam alone for a while. She was just looking for another excuse to cut and run. No relationship was perfect. There was probably a reasonable explanation for everything.
She twisted open a tiny bottle of wine from the minibar and zoned out in front of the television. At nine, her growling stomach reminded her she hadn’t eaten in hours. She ordered a salad fromroom service and picked at it. At a quarter to two, still wide awake, she heard a loud banging at the door. She leapt off the bed and dashed to open it.
Ethan swayed in the doorway, eyes half closed, mumbling something about forgetting his key. The sight of him was almost pitiful: clothes disheveled and reeking, his skin gray. And yet she instantly forgot her anger, her worry. She felt nothing other than relief so overwhelming her knees went weak.
Tenderly, she helped him undress and eased him into the shower, stripping off her own clothes and stepping in with him. The hot water seemed to revive him somewhat, his eyes now able to focus on her. As she wrapped them both in bathrobes, he tried to say something to her, but it was quiet and garbled. She ignored it and led him to bed.
They lay facing away from each other without touching. Finally, Grey heard him grumble something else.
“Mmmsorry.”
Grey shut her eyes tightly. It was easier to pretend she hadn’t heard him.
ETHAN HAD HAD SOME BADhangovers in his life, but this one was an all-timer. He’d blacked out, which he rarely did anymore. At dawn, he’d dragged himself to the toilet to retch, slumping against the side and resting his cheek on the cool porcelain. Maybe he’d drifted back to sleep, or maybe Grey had been there with him in reality, running her fingers through his sweat-soaked hair and placing a cold washcloth on the back of his neck. He was humiliated that she had to see him like this; even more humiliated that she was being so kind to him when he didn’t deserve it.
He woke up again in the early afternoon, tangled in the sheets this time, head pounding, mouth dry. Slowly, he turned his head to the left. The bed was empty next to him. He turned it to the right. The nightstand held a glass of water and a notepad. He propped himself up on one elbow and took a few tentative sips of water as he glanced at the pad.
Out to lunch. Be back soon. xo.
The familiar slope of her handwriting sent a fresh wave ofnausea through him. The previous day began to trickle back to him in fragments. An hour before they were supposed to leave to see Sam’s parents, he’d panicked. What had started as one drink around the corner to calm his nerves had turned into another, then another. He’d left his phone in the room intentionally, an insurance policy so he’d have to come back before she knew he was gone. That had obviously backfired.
He heard the door of the suite open. Grey’s footsteps on the carpet.
“How are you feeling?” Her tone was neutral, her eyes wary. She held a plastic bag at her hip, knotted at the top and fat with plastic take-out containers. “I brought you some food, if you want it.”
“Thanks.” His voice escaped in a rasp. The smell of grease wafted toward him, making his stomach turn and his mouth fill with saliva. He swallowed, trying not to gag.
Neither of them moved.
She didn’t have to say anything. It was obvious. She was done with him.
Finally, she set the bag on the edge of the bed and turned to leave the bedroom.
“Grey. Wait.”
She stopped, pivoting on her heel to face him again, chin tilted up expectantly.
“I’m sorry. About yesterday.”
