I MET A FUCKING amazing woman. She’s beautiful, smart, and gets along with my male friends—even their women too. I’ve been putting this night off, but only because life just kept getting in the way of my plan. The past two months really put a damper on them since she’s been in California for the opening of a new hotel, and even though I didn’t like the idea of being separated from her that long, she was so excited about going. Deanna got her degree in hotel management in California and still works for the same hotel as she did when she graduated. She was offered a promotion that would require some traveling, and the opportunity was too good to pass up.
Now that she’s finally back, I can get my ring where it belongs. On her finger.
Telling her to dress up tonight, I decided to take her to a restaurant downtown. Usually, the waiting list is months out, but the owner is a client of mine. Lucky for me, I just finished some custom furniture for his house, so he told me he would have a special table reserved just for us.
After a long shower and much-needed shave, I pull the suit out of my closet. I haven’t worn one since I graduated college almost ten years ago. I hate them. I’m a jeans and t-shirt kind of man. Work boots are more my style than the dress ones I’m wearing tonight, but for Deanna, I’ll wear it with a smile on my face.
Just before I leave the house, I tap my hand over the inside pocket of my jacket to check and recheck that the box hasn’t moved. During the ride to Deanna’s house, my nerves are getting the best of me even though I’m normally Mr. Cool, Calm, and Collected. After I step out of my truck I wipe my hands on the front of my neatly pressed pants because I can’t seem to stop sweating. My tie feels like it’s choking me, and I have to resist the urge to take it off. Fuck, it’s hot.
Before knocking on her door, I place my hand over the ring box, again, and it’s still there. When she answers the door dressed in her robe, Deanna looks like she’s been crying. In two strides, I reach her and have her wrapped in my arms.
“Dee, what’s wrong? Are you okay?”
I hardly ever see her cry—other than when she watches one of those romance movies she likes—and it’s tearing me up to see her so distraught. I lead her to the couch and sit, pulling her to my lap where she sobs for the longest time, and I know whatever is going on is bad. The need to fix whatever is making her feel this way is overwhelming because it’s what I do; I fix things.
Finally, she talks. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry, Dee. Just talk to me.”
She climbs off my lap and takes a seat next to me. When she takes my hand in hers, a chill runs through me.
“You know I love you. You’ve become my best friend.”
“I love you, too.” I squeeze her hand, encouraging her to continue.
“Something happened while I was in California.” She looks at me, and her eyes are so sad. I brush my hand to her cheek, and for a second, she leans into my touch, but then she grips my wrist.
“What happened?”
“I ran into some old friends from college. We went out for some drinks and bumped into another group of people.” She stops for a moment, and I watch her throat as she swallows. “My old … friend was there. I don’t know how it happened, but we just started talking. We talked all night.”
It’s not what I thought she would tell me. My head was thinking maybe they were transferring her job. I would tell her we’d make it work, but this … this isn’t what I was fucking expecting. The words friend, talking, and all night are ringing in my ear. I push her hand away from my face because I have a feeling I’m not going to like the rest of it.
“I’m guessing this friend is not a female?”
“No.”
“Did you sleep with him?” I ask. More yell. I never understood when people said that they saw red, but right now, I see it. A sick feeling is roiling in my gut, and I almost don’t want to hear her answer.
When she shakes her head, a feeling of relief comes over me, but it only lasts for a second. “He’s moving here. And I think I want to give it another try with him.”
The need to punch something is strong. I search the room for something to hit, but it’s not my house. Instead, I reach into my pocket, pull out the ring, and toss it on her coffee table. I don’t say anything as I walk out her front door, but I hear her loud and clear as she calls to me.
“Oh, God.”
“Jeremy, wait.”
“Don’t leave like this.”
I get in my truck. The fuck I’m sticking around. Once home, I throw the suit in the trash and vow never to wear one again. I put on a pair of shorts and head straight to my punching bag. I hit it over and over, but it doesn’t make me feel any better. The knot in my chest is too tight, and I need something to numb the pain. From the liquor cabinet, I grab the bottle of Jack and the biggest glass I can find, which is pointless because I start drinking straight from the bottle. I can’t tell you how long I drank, but I woke up to an empty bottle, feeling worse than I did the day before. Fuck my life.