The elevator doors opened and he stalked toward our room. I hurried after him as he swiped his keycard and walked inside.
“Aren’t we having dinner?” I asked. “I need to eat something.”
“Then you should have been on time for our reservation,” he said as he whirled to face me. “Because I already ate. At seven.”
“But—” I barely got the word out before he fixed me with a stare.
“Call room service,” he said. “I don’t have time for this. And you’d better ask for some aspirin while you’re at it. You’ll need it in the morning.”
Then he turned on his heel and went to the bedroom, slamming the door behind him.
I sat down on the couch, my eyes wandering around the luxurious but cold, silent room, and in that moment I felt utterly alone. What had I done?
I had thought this marriage would be my escape.
Instead, I’d traded one gilded cage for another.
