Page 48
Brendan’s face hardens. “I find that hard to believe too.”
He’s the second person I’ve told, and they’ve both assumed Rob is cheating. Do I just know Rob better than they do, or am I incredibly naïve?
“I guess he’s sleeping with her plenty now,” I say. I attempt to sound cheerful, but it ends on a rasp.
He puts an arm around me, and I lean into his shoulder.
“I’m so fucking sorry, Erin.”
I hate that he’s sorry. It’s as if he’s confirming that I have indeed lost something.
“I’m fine,” I say, brushing at my eyes. “Honestly. And nothing is over, necessarily. We’re just taking a break until he’s home, and then we’ll see.”
“Why wouldn’t you just end it?” he asks, suddenly angry. “You deserve so much better than that.”
“We’ve been together a long time, Brendan. It’s not a decision you make overnight. And he swore he didn’t cheat, and I believe him.” Sort of.
He pulls on his T-shirt abruptly. “The sun’s gonna set soon. You ready to head out?”
I nod, sorry our afternoon is ending on such a sad note. He seems more unhappy about my break-up than I was, which doesn’t make a whole lot of sense.
We walk back to the car in silence. The sun has begun to fade, and in its absence, the cold seems to seep into my bones. I wish I hadn’t mentioned the break-up. I hate the pall it’s cast on everything.
By the time we finally get back to the car, I’m shaking with cold. I jump in place, trying to get warm. “Can you pop the trunk?” I ask him. “I need my sweatshirt.”
“Fuck,” he hisses. He’s come to a dead stop in the middle of the parking lot, with his hands in his pockets.
“What’s the matter?” I ask.
He looks at me with wide eyes. “I don’t have the key.”
“What do you mean you don’t have the key? I saw you put it in the pocket of your shorts!”
“Yeah,” he says. “The shorts you threw into Emerald Bay.”
* * *
One hour and several testy conversations with a Hertz employee later, it is concluded that we will have to wait until morning, when the Tahoe office opens, to get a replacement key. It’s now dark, and I’m unbearably cold.
“I’m so sorry,” I whisper to Brendan for the hundredth time.
He grins. “It’s really okay. You’re the only one of us suffering, Frosty.”
This is true. I don’t think I’ve ever been so cold in my life, and I live in a state where it hits 30 below in the winter.
Adding to my misery, there’s some big convention going on in Tahoe, and after we Uber into town, it takes us over an hour to find a single available room, which has one double bed.
“Nothing else?” Brendan asks, pleading in his voice.
The woman stares at her computer. “I’m sorry. This is all we’ve got at the moment.”
“We’ll check somewhere else, then,” Brendan tells her. “Thanks anyway.”
“No, a double is fine,” I argue, teeth chattering. “I’m freezing, Brendan. Please.”
Once again he gets that look on his face, as if I’ve asked him to scale Everest. It’d probably hurt my feelings except I’m too damn cold to feel anything, emotional or otherwise.
* * *
