narrow one eye suspiciously. “Yes, what are the odds.”
He sets his ankle on his knee and steeples his hands in front of him. “Of all the shit between us, you would be angry if I interfered with you getting a job?”
“I would be more upset than angry.”
“Is there a difference?”
“I think so.”
His expression is indiscernible. “You’re so beautiful, Daisy.”
I turn my gaze toward the stone fountain in the middle of the lobby. It’s an obscure piece of work.
He leans forward. “We haven’t spoken in four and a half months, and when you see me, you run away.”
He’s waiting for me to respond, but I don’t know what he wants me to say. “Should I apologize?”
He sniffs disdainfully. “You have a lot of shit to apologize for, but fleeing a restaurant isn’t one of them.”
“You don’t have to make me feel lousy. I already do.”
“Do you?”
“Yes, I do.”
“Why?”
I glare at him. To the world, it looks as if Belmont’s the bad guy for leaving me. However, he and I know the truth. After Joella passed, he handled the cremation, the paperwork, and planning her memorial service, which I missed because I couldn’t get out of bed. I only woke up when the nurse Belmont had hired changed the dressing over my incision, gave me a sponge bath, or tried to convince me to eat homemade soup. Belmont had never badgered me about doing my part. He’d consulted Heloise, my mother, and her advice was for him to wait until I got out of bed on my own, which I did a week and a half later.
Of course, things weren’t the same. When we had sex, I asked Belmont to wear a condom. He was fine with that for the first couple of months, but then he wanted sex more frequently and spontaneously. I was always worried about being safe. Slowly, we stopped having sex so frequently. Belmont slept in another room. I didn’t complain about that either. Then we started saying cruel things to each other. He would bring up how I missed Joella’s memorial ceremony and question whether I ever cared about her or him. I refused to try to convince him of my love for our daughter. I told him that me being catatonic for a week and a half was right up his alley since he liked me being weak.
“You’re not weak. You’re void,” he’d said.
I didn’t recover from that comment until he moved out. I still don’t think I’m over it.
The waitress steps between us to take our orders. I’m no longer hungry, so I just order a club soda.
“Did I ruin your appetite?” Belmont asks, scowling.
“No.” Finally I feel my own anger. “Yes, actually. I don’t know why you’re behaving this way. You’re the one who had a date, and I know you took her to Curtis’s wedding. The invitation was for you and me, not you and her. I’ve seen the reports about you and other women. You’ve moved on. Maybe I should too.”
Belmont puts his hands on my knees and leans in. “There are no other women.”
“Um, should I come back?” the waitress asks.
I forgot she was standing there. I swallow. It has been too long since he touched me. The band starts.
Belmont stands and put on his coat. “We’re leaving.” He glares at me as if I should automatically follow.
But I came here to eat and listen to music. As soon as I sat down, all the men in the room paid attention to me. Not until this very moment have I considered finding myself a lover just as he did. I know exactly what Belmont wants, and every part of my body wants to comply. I rise to my feet. I’m disappointed with myself for being unable to resist him.
Belmont takes my hand—his palms are damp. He leads me to the elevator and slides his card through the reader, unlocking access to the 30th floor.
My jaw drops. “Are you serious? You have a room here?”
He chuckles. “I do.”
“Is this coincidence, or are you following me?”
“Neither. I used our reward advantage.”
“Ah, yes…” I did too.
As the elevator rises, he slams
He sets his ankle on his knee and steeples his hands in front of him. “Of all the shit between us, you would be angry if I interfered with you getting a job?”
“I would be more upset than angry.”
“Is there a difference?”
“I think so.”
His expression is indiscernible. “You’re so beautiful, Daisy.”
I turn my gaze toward the stone fountain in the middle of the lobby. It’s an obscure piece of work.
He leans forward. “We haven’t spoken in four and a half months, and when you see me, you run away.”
He’s waiting for me to respond, but I don’t know what he wants me to say. “Should I apologize?”
He sniffs disdainfully. “You have a lot of shit to apologize for, but fleeing a restaurant isn’t one of them.”
“You don’t have to make me feel lousy. I already do.”
“Do you?”
“Yes, I do.”
“Why?”
I glare at him. To the world, it looks as if Belmont’s the bad guy for leaving me. However, he and I know the truth. After Joella passed, he handled the cremation, the paperwork, and planning her memorial service, which I missed because I couldn’t get out of bed. I only woke up when the nurse Belmont had hired changed the dressing over my incision, gave me a sponge bath, or tried to convince me to eat homemade soup. Belmont had never badgered me about doing my part. He’d consulted Heloise, my mother, and her advice was for him to wait until I got out of bed on my own, which I did a week and a half later.
Of course, things weren’t the same. When we had sex, I asked Belmont to wear a condom. He was fine with that for the first couple of months, but then he wanted sex more frequently and spontaneously. I was always worried about being safe. Slowly, we stopped having sex so frequently. Belmont slept in another room. I didn’t complain about that either. Then we started saying cruel things to each other. He would bring up how I missed Joella’s memorial ceremony and question whether I ever cared about her or him. I refused to try to convince him of my love for our daughter. I told him that me being catatonic for a week and a half was right up his alley since he liked me being weak.
“You’re not weak. You’re void,” he’d said.
I didn’t recover from that comment until he moved out. I still don’t think I’m over it.
The waitress steps between us to take our orders. I’m no longer hungry, so I just order a club soda.
“Did I ruin your appetite?” Belmont asks, scowling.
“No.” Finally I feel my own anger. “Yes, actually. I don’t know why you’re behaving this way. You’re the one who had a date, and I know you took her to Curtis’s wedding. The invitation was for you and me, not you and her. I’ve seen the reports about you and other women. You’ve moved on. Maybe I should too.”
Belmont puts his hands on my knees and leans in. “There are no other women.”
“Um, should I come back?” the waitress asks.
I forgot she was standing there. I swallow. It has been too long since he touched me. The band starts.
Belmont stands and put on his coat. “We’re leaving.” He glares at me as if I should automatically follow.
But I came here to eat and listen to music. As soon as I sat down, all the men in the room paid attention to me. Not until this very moment have I considered finding myself a lover just as he did. I know exactly what Belmont wants, and every part of my body wants to comply. I rise to my feet. I’m disappointed with myself for being unable to resist him.
Belmont takes my hand—his palms are damp. He leads me to the elevator and slides his card through the reader, unlocking access to the 30th floor.
My jaw drops. “Are you serious? You have a room here?”
He chuckles. “I do.”
“Is this coincidence, or are you following me?”
“Neither. I used our reward advantage.”
“Ah, yes…” I did too.
As the elevator rises, he slams
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