Page 59 of Hot and Bothered
“It’s probably better if you sleep in the spare room tonight,” he said without looking back. He closed the bedroom door behind him.
My heart splintered in two. I buried my tear-stained face in my hands.
What had I done?
22
Itossed and turned all night. The tears wouldn’t stop flowing, soaking my pillow. I managed to drift off somehow, and when I woke I had a few blissful seconds of reprieve before the previous night’s events came back to me. I rubbed my sore eyes and felt how puffy they were. I had no doubt they were as red and bloodshot as that first day I’d woken up to find myself in Evan’s apartment. I wasn’t hungover this time, but my burning eyes and churning stomach were the same. If I felt like I’d spent the whole night crying, it was because I had.
I laid in bed until I knew I couldn’t put it off any longer. I had to get up and face Evan. I didn’t know if an evening of sleep would change anything, if it would help calm him or alleviate some of that hurt and anger I’d seen in his eyes. I hoped it had, but I didn’t want to fool myself. I’d accused Evan of something terrible. No wonder he was mad at me.
But there was a part of me that also hurt. Of course I didn’t want to imagine Evan would do something like that, but I’d had reason to be suspicious. Wouldn’t any normal person at least stop and wonder about the fact that another person had asked to spend the night with their significant other? It wasn’t a completely unthinkable possibility.
Still, I understood why Evan would be upset. I’d read his text messages. I’d invaded his privacy. I hadn’t really meant to. I’d thought it might be an important text from Mason.
But then I’d accused Evan of cheating on me when he’d been nothing but wonderful to me this entire time. He was maybe a little closed off and tightlipped when the conversation revolved around him, always turning my questions back on myself. But some people just didn’t like talking about themselves. He cared so much about me and my problems, always reassuring me and helping me. I wished I could return the favor, but Evan’s life seemed pretty stable.
Maybe that was another reason why he’d reacted so strongly. He was so easygoing, such a low-key guy. He might not have been used to conflict or drama and didn’t know how to handle it. I could sympathize, being conflict-averse myself. I always did whatever it took to prevent any friction or disagreements. That was what had compounded this whole situation. Instead of just addressing the issue right away, I’d agonized over it until Evan had to push me to talk. If I’d asked about those messages right away would he have just laughed it off and explained that Christie was—
Actually, Evan hadn’t brought up the name Christie at all. He’d been so upset he hadn’t gotten around to telling me who she was. He’d yelled that I shouldn’t have assumed it was another woman. He said I should have thought it was one of his friends or someone in his family. Those thoughts had crossed my mind as likely possibilities, but it wasn’t totally off-base to assume it might be some girl he was dating behind my back. Has he ignored the Christie issue on purpose? Who was she, that he would keep her identity a secret from me?
The more I thought about it, the more hurt I became. It was my own fault for reading his messages and jumping to conclusions, yes, but it was reasonable for me to at least ask him about it, and I was at least owed an answer as to who that Christie woman was to him.
I sighed and rolled over on the bed, planting my face in the damp pillow. I couldn’t stay here and mope forever. I had to get out of bed and face Evan eventually. We had Sunday off because it was always a slow day, but we’d have to go back to work tomorrow. It would be best for us to talk and work things out before then.
Hopefully, Evan would give me another chance to apologize. Hopefully, he would at least consider seeing things from my point of view.
I snuck a peek out outside the bedroom door, trying to figure out where Evan was. I thought I heard some shuffling in the kitchen. He was probably making breakfast. Relieved, I grabbed some clothes and made my way into the bathroom to get showered and changed. I saw myself in the mirror and winced. I was a mess, almost as bad as that first day. My hair was less of a rat’s nest, which was one small favor.
I took my time in the shower, soaping myself up and rinsing myself off three times before I shut off the water. I was procrastinating, putting off the inevitable again. Before I could lose my courage, I tugged on my dress and headed to the kitchen. Evan was already sitting down with his tablet, ignoring the two pieces of buttered toast on his plate. He didn’t look up as I stood in the kitchen doorway.
I cleared my throat.
“Good morning,” I said. I didn’t know what else to say. How did a person continue a fight from the night before? I’d never done it so I had no idea.
Evan lifted his eyes briefly from his illustration.
“Morning,” he said. It wasn’t quite curt but it wasn’t his usual friendly greeting.
My palms turned sweaty, the tips of my fingers going chilly. I wrung my hands together, half in nervousness and half to warm them up.
“Can we talk about last night?” I asked.
“I’m on a deadline,” he said, waving at his tablet.
“Okay,” I said, shoulders slumping. “Can we talk later when you’re done?”
“Sure,” he said, then hunched back over his tablet.
I didn’t want to spend the entire afternoon agonizing over this, but what else could I do? Evan didn’t want to talk, not yet. We had the day off but we’d have to go back to working together tomorrow. I didn’t want to leave things like this that long, but I also didn’t want to force him.
Evan let out another one of those deep sighs through his nose.
I went to the living room and got out the book I’d been reading off and on. I flipped to the bookmarked page and tried to read, but my eyes kept wandering over to the kitchen.
There was a knock on the door. I got up from the sofa.
“I’ll get it,” I said.
