a pile of navy blue and hunter green boxer briefs—in all the time we’d been together, I’d only ever seen Brooks were underwear in those two colors. “We talked about it during the holidays, we talked about it over the summer, and we talked about it last month, before I interviewed in New York.”
“I know, but . . . I guess I didn’t think it was a real thing.” The panic rose from my stomach to my chest. If Brooks really was leaving, this would be my third failed relationship in a row. That wasn’t just bad luck. That was a pattern. A cycle. Maybe even a curse.
Brooks stopped halfway between his closet and the bed with a garment bag in his hands and looked at me, a serious expression on his handsome face. “You chose not to think of it as a real thing. I told you it was.”
I chewed my thumbnail, knowing he was right.
“We’ve barely even seen each other for weeks.” He laid the garment bag out on the bed and went back to the closet.
“Well . . .” I searched frantically for a line of defense. “You’re a night owl, and I’m an early bird. I go to bed before you get home, and I’m always up and out in the morning before you. It’s hard.”
“That is all true.” He returned to the bed with an armful of shirts on identical wooden hangers. “But that is not how a relationship should be.”
“We’ve both been really busy with work too.” Brooks and I were both attorneys, although he worked for the Department of Justice—last I knew, anyway—and I’d traded practicing law to work as a campaign strategist. Our jobs were demanding and important. There were late night meetings and early morning conference calls, tight deadlines and high stakes. “It’s been hard to connect.”
“It’s more than that.” Brooks started slipping shirts into the bag. “There’s nothing between us anymore, Meg. We haven’t had sex in months.”
“That’s not entirely true. We tried that one night, but you fell asleep. That wasn’t my fault.” Although it had sort of felt like my fault—Brooks had given it some effort, but had been unable to, ahem, rise to the occasion. Secretly, I’d been kind of relieved, but another part of me wondered why I didn’t do it for him anymore.
“I’m not blaming you. I’m just stating the facts,” he said. Brooks was always just stating the facts. “And be honest. Have you missed it?”
I bit my lip. I hadn’t missed sex with Brooks, and he probably hadn’t missed it with me. Things in the bedroom had grown staid. Boring. Predictable.
For a while I’d been telling myself to put more effort into it—buy some lingerie, talk dirty, offer to give him a blowjob . . . but I hadn’t done anything to turn up the heat. “Maybe we could try harder,” I suggested without much feeling.
“No, Meg. We shouldn’t have to try so hard. We both deserve a relationship that doesn’t feel like another job.”
I stared at his shoes, expensive brown leather cap-toe oxfords, perfectly polished, an excellent complement to his navy blue suit. My eyes roamed up the tailored legs of his pants to his starched white dress shirt and tightly knotted striped tie. At six o’clock, his shave was still close, and his dark blond hair looked freshly trimmed—he had a standing appointment every three weeks. He was tall, toned, and handsome—straight out of a men’s cologne ad in a magazine.
But looking at him, I felt no stir of physical attraction, no heat pooling inside me, no desire to rip that expensive suit off him and pounce. Nor, it was clear, did he feel the urge to pounce on me.
“I’ll continue to pay half the rent until the end of the year,” he went on. “That gives you time to decide whether you’d like to take over the whole lease, move to a smaller place, or get a roommate.”
As the reality of being left alone again sank in, I lowered myself to the bed. “Oh, God.”
Brooks finally stopped packing and sat beside me. “I’m not doing this to hurt you.”
I took a deep breath and let it out, trying to sift through my complicated feelings. “I’m not hurt, exactly . . . I’m—I don’t know what I am. Disappointed. Embarrassed. Angry. And maybe a little hurt. Were you just going to leave without even saying goodbye?”
He shrugged. “You know how I am. I didn’t want a scene. I assumed you’d be