He turned fully away from the door and asked, “What?”
“Take a lot of it,” I repeated, moving and tossing my coat on a stool as I made my way to the kitchen. “You want it. You have it. But don’t bother calling me on Tuesday.”
His barely there patience slipped when he declared, “Jesus, Faye, it’s f**kin’ late, I’m f**kin’ tired. I’m tellin’ you what I need so you can read into that what I don’t need is a f**kin’ drama.”
“No drama,” I pulled open a cupboard to nab a wineglass. I closed the cupboard, turned to him but didn’t look at him as I reached for the bottle of wine on my counter, finishing, “Just giving you space. Plenty of it.”
“Fine,” he stated as I squeezed the plastic thingie Chace had shoved into the bottle last night and pumped the air out of so the wine would keep, heartbreakingly sad I was doing that because Chace had done it like he always did it and my earlier decision meant Chace would never do it again.
“But don’t call Wednesday,” I told the wine.
“Jesus.” I heard him clip.
“Or Thursday.” I kept at it as I poured my wine.
“Fuckin’ hell, Faye.”
“Or Friday,” I went on as I turned the bottle in my hand to stop the flow without it dripping.
“Faye, this isn’t a big deal.”
Not to him.
But it was to me.
Though he obviously didn’t care.
I set the bottle on the counter, lifted my eyes to him and concluded, “Or at all.”
His body went visibly solid and his mood again blanketed the room as his eyes locked on mine.
I kept talking.
“You’re right, you didn’t say it but I get it. I’m inexperienced. I need guidance in this relationship business. I don’t know what I’m doing half the time.” I took a sip of wine, held his gaze as I did, lowered my glass and swallowed. “But you don’t have to know about relationships to know that no matter how wonderful a man may seem, how he makes you feel, it is not okay for him to keep things from you. It is not okay that, even though he’s going through serious stuff in his head, he lashes out and rips you to shreds. It is not okay that, although he’s more experienced than you, he doesn’t guide the relationship but controls it with an iron fist. So you want time and I have no say in the matter? Take it. A lot of it.”
His expression shifted and at the shift, I braced.
“You’re makin’ a bigger deal of this than it is, honey,” he said softly but didn’t move toward me. “After what happened tonight, I just need some time to get my head together.”
“What happened tonight?” I asked.
Chace didn’t answer.
When it was important, Chace never really answered.
“Right,” I muttered, my heart squeezing and it didn’t feel good at all. I took a sip of wine and didn’t get what women were always talking about in regards to drinking wine during heartbreak. It didn’t make me feel even a little bit better.
Maybe I needed more of it.
Like, a case.
Chace didn’t move.
“You aren’t leaving,” I prompted, pleased with myself that my voice didn’t crack because tears were rushing up my throat.
“I’ll call you Tuesday,” he whispered.
I lifted my wineglass his way and invited, “You do that.”