Page 62 of F*ck Marriage

I drop into my chair, but Woods stays where he is.

“Billie, what happened at the bar—”

“Stop it…” I cover my ears with my hands, and when I realize how childish I must look, I drop them. “You—we were drunk. You don’t need to say anything.” I wiggle my mouse and my screen jumps to life. I’m praying that’s enough for him and he’ll leave, but when I look up he’s still standing there.

“That’s just it. I wasn’t that drunk.”

I stare.

“I wasn’t that drunk,” he says again.

He walks over to the chair facing my desk, the one Satcher always sits in, and drops into it. Outside my window it starts to rain, water beading the glass and then trickling away.

“You left so quickly after … we never got the chance to talk. I wanted to explain.”

I raise my eyebrows. My mouth is dry, my heart pounding out my grief.

“You knew where I was.”

“You’re right. I was a coward. After what I did I was afraid to face you, especially on your turf.”

I fold my hands on my lap so he can’t see them shaking. Why am I like this? I need to be stronger ... harder. I came back here to prove myself and I can’t even control my body’s reaction to him.

“It’s been a long time. It’s behind us. I’ve moved on.” I imagine Satcher would snicker at that part if he was here.

“I haven’t,” Woods says.

“You’re getting married,” I remind him.

He licks his lips, staring toward the window. “You only love the rain on your terms. Washington was too much; here is too little.”

He used to say that to me all the time. He’d suggest we move to Seattle and have an adventure and I’d brush him off saying I couldn’t live in constant rain.

“We should live where your eyes match the sky…”

“Why don’t we live where your eyes match the sky.”I’d laugh.

“The Caribbean?”

“Don’t flatter yourself…”

“Despite what you think, I didn’t mean for that to happen. I love—”

My door opens and both of us look up at the same time. Satcher’s face is unreadable as he steps into my office. He’s wearing a navy blue suit, the top buttons of his white shirt open to reveal his collarbone. As soon as he walks in his smell is everywhere. He swallows the room and for a brief moment I forget about Woods.

He walks directly to where I’m sitting, and just like Woods, takes my chin in his hand to examine my eye.

“Nasty shiner.” He breaks the silence.

“You’re telling me. It was like my heart wasn’t beat up enough, let’s give her outward bruises too.”

The dimple appears. He’s always appreciated my dry humor.

“Wait. You did that to her?” Woods looks from one of us to the other.

“Yes. Another thing you and I have in common,” I say brightly. “Black eyes compliments of Satcher Gable.”

“The fuck, Satcher?” Woods says, ignoring my comment.

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