Page 156 of The Infiniteness of Yesterday
“Hey,” he echoes.
There’s something hollow about him. There are dark circles beneath his eyes, and I wonder if he got verbally reprimandedabout them from whatever makeup artist he works with. Hopefully not.
“Can we talk?” he asks in such a desperate way that I can’t help but say yes.
“Yeah.”
I step aside to let him in, but he shakes his head. “Can we go for a drive while we talk?”
I look around like I’m searching for an excuse to say no, but I find none.
“Sure.”
He knows about the engagement. I have no doubts even though I haven’t told him.
I grab my keys and follow him out to his Range Rover. He opens the passenger door for me and waits for me to hop in and buckle before he closes it. That’s Spencer—always the gentleman, even when he’s hurt.
I tuck my hair behind my ear, my eyes tracking his movements as he comes around the front of the car. He’s dressed simply in a pair of light washed jeans, heather gray t-shirt, and black baseball cap.
“Did you come here straight from set?” I ask as when he gets in.
He gives me a furrowed brow expression like he can’t possibly figure out why I’m asking that.
“Yes. It’s the only short day we’ve had this week. I’ve been getting off at like two in the morning because of night shooting or I would’ve talked to you sooner.”
“You could’ve called me or texted,” I say softly.
Heglowersat me. I don’t think Spencer haseverlooked at me with such barely contained rage and torment. The pain that inhabits his eyes is unlike anything I’ve ever seen before, and I know that I’m the reason for it.
“I wasn’t doing that for this. You should know that. Especially not after you let me find out from a photo Willa posted.”
He throws the car in reverse and looks around before backing out despite the vehicle’s camera.
We drive in silence along the coast for a while. I don’t know what to say, so I wait for him to speak first. Even though nothing is said, it’s as if I canfeelthe words between us.
How could you?
We were just together.
Did it mean nothing?
Why are you so heartless?
I wonder how long he’ll drive like this, in the silence, letting the unspoken truths fill the car until they overflow like a bathtub.
I watch the clock. Thirty minutes pass. Forty-five. An hour.
It’s at the hour and twelve-minute mark that he says, “Do you hate me?”
I wish he asked it maliciously, accusingly, but that’s not how it comes out. The four words are pain-filled and etched in terror like he’s afraid I’ll say yes, I hate him and slept with him just to torment him. He knows me better than that, but he’s hurting.
“I could never hate you.” My words are heavy with my own pain.
Sometimes, in my darkest moments, I’ve wished I could. It would be so much easier if I felt that way. If Spencer was like a lot of young fathers that didn’t want to be there. But he’s always been unfailingly the best.I’mthe one in the wrong. I’m the one who doesn’t deserve him. I’m the one who let my fears and insecurities get to me back then and I’m the one who’s fucked everything up now. I don’t put any of the blame on him. This is my fault.
“It feels like you do.”
“I’m sorry.” I look down at my lap, wringing my fingers together.
