Finally he squeezes his eyes shut and tilts his head back. Then he stands straight and says, “The shower’s yours. I have a few conference calls.”
Slowly I push myself up. My legs are like soggy pasta, the flesh between my thighs hypersensitive. His right hand twitches, then he clenches his jaw and leaves me alone in the bathroom.
I inhale deeply and review what just happened.
If I’d been thinking more clearly, I would’ve known nothing would change from sex. What just happened was great—it’s always been fantastic between us—but it isn’t enough to fix what’s broken.
Have hope. He isn’t indifferent.
I can work with anything but indifference. Maybe one night isn’t enough time for him to cool down and regain the proper perspective. With more time he’ll be willing to listen—really listen.
I’ve been telling myself what Elliot and I have is only for a year, so it doesn’t matter how things pan out between us. But I care about what he thinks, how he feels. I wasn’t just saying it when I told him I loved him. I did and still do love him. So even if all we have is a year, I don’t want it to be a bad year. I want to leave my mark on him so he’ll always think of me with…well, something warm and sweet, even if it’s not love.
By the time I step into the shower and wash, I feel better. The warm water is soothing. Back in the closet I pull on a simple sleeveless yellow dress. I’m not going to make a move against Mr. Grayson until Elliot and I have a calm talk. Mr. Grayson knew about Elliot needing a wife, so maybe whatever he was having me do actually had more to do with my husband. Elliot and I should come up with a game plan so neither
of us is working against the other inadvertently.
Just as I enter the kitchen, Nonny emerges from her room. She’s put on a black dress and matching sandals, and her hair is pulled back in a high and tight ponytail. A thicker than usual layer of concealer betrays the fact that she has dark circles under her eyes. Anger and shame simmer in equal parts in her eyes…which won’t meet mine. I don’t know what she and Elliot talked about yesterday before he left the penthouse, but whatever it was didn’t solve the problems between us.
I go to the kitchen and hand-wash the crystal tumbler I left in the sink earlier. Nonny watches me, then looks away.
Guess she isn’t making the first move.
“Cereal?” I keep my voice as neutral as possible. Trying to pretend that nothing’s happened is an insult to both of us, but I don’t know what else to do.
“No.”
Nonny walks to the fridge, making sure not to touch me, and takes out a small tub of strawberry-flavored Greek yogurt. She stands, waiting until I move out of the way, then opens the top drawer for a spoon.
“I’m sorry.”
Her motion’s jerky as she stirs the thick white stuff. “You did what you had to do.” Still, she keeps her gaze on the food in front of her.
“If you know that, why won’t you look at me?”
She snaps her head up and stares at me. Her face is set in a positively mutinous line, something I’ve never seen on her before. “Happy now?”
“Nonny…”
Her brow creasing, she looks back down at the yogurt. “You should’ve told me.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Forget it.” She polishes off the yogurt in three big spoonfuls. “I’m running late.”
I glance at the clock on the wall. She has plenty of time.
“We need to talk.”
“Yeah, like weeks ago.”
“I’m trying to talk now.”
“Like I said, I’m running late. I have some things to do before school.” She turns around and goes into her room.
I make myself fresh coffee and drink it silently, blinking away the tears burning in my eyes. What do I do now? I’ve never felt so alone before. Even though the people in Lincoln City turned their backs on me, Nonny has been always by my side. I didn’t realize until now how much that meant to me.
She leaves the condo soon after, backpack slung over one shoulder. She doesn’t say goodbye, doesn’t even look my way. It’s as though I’m dead to her.