Page 77 of Moonstruck at Midnight
“And last but not least, like why don’t you go home, look under your bed and when you can come up with an explanation forthat, let me know so I can decide if I like it or not. Somethinglikethat.”
Fuck,fuck,fuck.That was not how I intended to approach the condom situation. The wine was not helping with holding my tongue in place. Backing down was useless now.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” he asked defensively.
“Which part, exactly?”
“The last one,” he barked.
“That’sexactlywhat I want to know.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about. But I want you to go back to the city. Please leave.” He begged.
“I’m so tired of people telling me what to do—especially you. You don’t trust me. You’re extremely jealous ofeveryoneandeverything. And I have never given you any reason to feel that way. You’re so wrapped around your issues that you don’t even notice howI’mfeeling. I constantly worry and havebegged youto talk to me about what’s wrong, and you can’t deign to tell me anything. I’m done, Thomas.”
“I’m sorry, babe. Wait, what do—”
“That’s the problem, Thomas,” I cut him off mid-sentence. “You’realwayssorry, and Ialwayslook the other way, yet somehow we always end up precisely where we started. I really can’t do this anymore.” I felt defeated. Tired. Angry. Sad.
“Babe, please. I’m sorry,” he pleaded. “You don’t know what I’m going through with my family right now. The things I’ve had to deal with while I’ve been here.”
“Okay, then talk to me. Let’s figure it out together,” I proposed.
Thomas stayed silent for a few seconds.
“I can’t.”
“That’s what I thought.”
“I’ll fly out tomorrow. We—we’ll talk about this.”
“You’ve said enough. Which is not much.” My throat closed off.
“Please, let’s talk.” He kept begging. Why was it that things had to get to a certain point so he would agree to talk to me? And I knew whattalkingmeant for him. It meant distracting me so he could try to make things go away for a while to buy himself time. On repeat.
“What do you want to talk about? The used-up condoms under your bed? Or about how sorry you are for not trusting me to have any friends and wanting to control everything I do? Don’t change your travel plans.”
“Wait. What condoms? I would never—”
“Thomas. It’s over.” I crouched on the grass and covered my mouth to keep the sobs away from the phone’s microphone.
“Babe, I can fix this, please. I’m sorry. I can’t lose you. Let me fix this.”
“It’s over, Thomas. I’m not strong enough to deal with this, I’m sorry. I thought I was,” I managed to say, crying. “I have to go. It’s almost sunset, and we’re not done shooting.”
“Billie.” He echoed my sobs. My stomach went into knots. I didn’t want to hurt him, but this was the right thing to do. The past few weeks had been torture. I’d been drowning in my thoughts. I needed to breathe again. He wasn’t satisfied unless I was with him all the time or locked up in my apartment. I couldn’t do it.
“I’m sorry, Thomas,” I whispered, feeling my heart cracking into pieces. “I really need to go.”
I hung up the phone and threw it on the grass. I rested my head between my knees. Lily came running and asked me what was wrong as she sat down and placed her arms around me.
Caleb approached us with a troubled expression on his face and retrieved my phone from the grass. He squatted in front of me.
“Hey,” he spoke softly. “Is everything okay?” A part of me wanted to throw myself into his arms and stay there for a while. But the emotions running through my body were so diverse I wasn’t sure about what I needed at that moment. “Tell me, what’s wrong?”
“I want to spend the night here. I need to stay, please. Take Ben and Nolan back to the city. Joel can drive me back home tomorrow. Please.” I begged like I’ve never begged before.
“Red, I—we can’t just leave you here,” he whispered. Lily stood up, squeezing my shoulder, and gave us some privacy. “Your father will kill us if we don’t take you back tonight.”
