Page 74 of Rich Girl
“I thought you were in a rush to go,” I call out to him. My voice sounds groggy from sleep, and I have to clear it a few times.
Ray walks into the small bedroom, a bottle of water in hand. He sits next to me on the bed, fixing the covers, then handing me the water.
“That fucker can wait. He sounded like a pompous ass,” he laughs.
I run worried eyes over his face. I hate it when he goes on calls in the middle of the night. It hasn’t happened very often since I’ve been around, but still, I hate it.
“Is it an accident?”
“No.” He rolls his eyes. “They got a flat. He doesn’t know how to change it.”
“Oh…” That sounds like a legitimate reason to need help in the middle of the night. I wouldn’t know how to change a tire to save my life.
Ray bops me on the nose “You’re lucky that you have a man who can do manly things.”
I smile at that, but it turns into a more of a forced effort when I realize that he won’t be my man for much longer.
“Please be careful,” I beg of him. “And wake me up when you get back, okay?”
I sound like a proper housewife. A month ago, I would have cringed at the thought. Now, I wish I could be Ray’s housewife. How bizarre.
“I will,” Ray promises. With a soft kiss on my lips, he is out.
My eyes refuse to close once I hear the door closing behind him. I stare at the ceiling for the longest time, trying to picture a life where I’d be here with Ray. I’ve been so happy for these last four weeks, but could I do it long term?
I remember Ray asking me before if I was happy. I didn’t really have an answer for him because I didn’t know what that meant. I’d never had anything to measure it by. Until now.
Now I realize that my life before Ray was worry-free but monotone. There was nothing exciting about it because I wasaccustomed to doing everything in exactly the same way, every single day.
I don’t miss the parties every night or lunches at the club every day. I am not actively involved in any of the charities I support, so there is no actual work to be done on my end. They use my name for promotional purposes, and I just show up so they don’t look like liars. I also donate hefty amounts of money, but I’m not sure of the exact amounts.
My life is extremely sheltered, but I don’t have anyone who really cares about the real me, not even my parents. I’ve been gone for a month, and they didn’t call to see if I was still alive. I don’t even know if they’re in the country. I vaguely remember my mother mentioning that my father had bought a new yacht. It was anchored off the coast of Greece. They wanted to go check it out there before it set sail to be brought stateside.
I continue thinking about all this until my eyes become heavy, and I think I fall asleep. When I open them again, I see sunshine through the very small window in Ray’s bedroom. I stretch and smile, my body feeling used and satiated.
“Ray?” I call out, hoping that he got back, but there’s no response.
I force myself to get out of bed and drag my feet to the bathroom, happy that I should have enough hot water for a longer shower since Ray took his earlier.
The hot water running down my tired body is like a balsam on my soul. I take my time washing my hair, smiling when I see my favorite shampoo and conditioner next to Ray’s body wash. It has such a domestic vibe to it.
The smile fades off my face at the reminder that we can’t ever be.
I put my head back to rinse the conditioner off my hair, but I all I can see is Ray’s sweaty body as he pushed into me.
I fucking loveyou…
The words are on repeat in my head, remembering every detail and intonation of his voice when he said them. My chest is tight, the pressure of not sobbing my heart out almost too much for me to handle.
I turn the water off and step out of the shower, then wrap a towel around my body and one around my hair. While I take a minute to put my face and body cream on, I hear a faint noise coming from the living room. By the third time it happens, I’m pretty sure it is my cell phone.
I frown in confusion, wondering what time it is. When I walk into the kitchen, I notice that the time on the microwave shows close to ten in the morning. Panic sets in as I was supposed to be at Evie’s shop at eight thirty.
Without stopping to check my phone, I rush to put some clothes on. No makeup today, and my hair will have to air dry. I finally grab my cell phone, noticing fifteen missed calls. Eight of them also have a voicemail.
“Wow, I hope nobody died. What the hell?”
I slip my feet into my wedges and rush down the stairs, deciding to check on my messages once I get to the flower shop. I hate disappointing Evie like this after how kind she’s been to me for the last two months.
