Page 9 of Endless Obsession
“Get out!” I scream it, so loudly that Nate flinches back, his eyes widening.
“Shit, fine.” He grabs his phone off the floor in a rush, leaving the ring box there. “I’ll call you, Charlotte, and once you’ve calmed down?—”
“Don’t,” I tell him flatly. “Just get the fuck out.”
“I’m going.” He strides to the door, his features tightening. He hasn’t won this argument, and I can tell it’s pissing him off.
But I don’t care. I stand there, ramrod straight, arms crossed over my chest, until he retreats from the bedroom, and I hear the slam of the front door closing.
Then, and only then, I sink to the floor and burst into tears.
—
Two hours later, I’ve calmed down enough to call Jaz. I could call any of our friends, honestly, and they’d be here as soon as they could. But I want Jaz. I know she won’t bullshit me, but she’ll also be nice about it. I don’t want soothing platitudes right now. I want someone to tell me if I’m overreacting.
I don’t think I am, but my mind has been going in circles, for as long as I’ve been sitting on the floor sobbing. Telling me that maybe this is just a bump in the road. That maybe Nate is right, and we could try therapy. That maybe we just need to work through our shit, and we could have a happy relationship. After all, love is about fighting for it, right? And maybe I’ve done something wrong, too, something to contribute to this?—
That thought is what finally gets me up off the floor. I go to the dresser, wiping away tears as I dig through my drawers for underwear, a pair of leggings, and my favorite oversized t-shirt. I look at it in my hands, and press my lips together.
Is it my fault? Should I have been wearing silk and lace around the house instead of well-worn leggings and a band t-shirt that’s three sizes too big? Would Nate have asked me to send him pictures of me fucking myself with a toy instead?
The minute I text Jaz, she answers within seconds.
Charlotte: Hey. Alinea is off. Some bad shit went down with me and Nate. Can you come over? I’m feeling pretty rough.
Jaz: Sure thing, babe. I’m out with Zoe, but I’ll grab an Uber. You have drinks?
Charlotte: Plenty.
Jaz: Perfect.
After that, there’s nothing to do but wait for her to get here. I drag myself into the living room, where I pour myself a full glass of pinot noir and grab the remote. I don’t even know what to watch, but I need something other than silence, so I put on Game of Thrones and let it play in the background while I stare blankly at the dragons flying across the screen.
The episode is half over when I hear the buzzer go off. I open the door, and Jaz takes one look at me as she walks in before shaking her head. She shrugs her leather jacket off and hangs it on the brass hook on the wall, taking my almost-empty wine glass out of my hand and going to refill it as she pours herself a glass, too.
“What the fuck did he do?” she asks bluntly as she hands me back my wine, sinking down next to me on the dove-grey couch in the living room.
Now that I think about it, a lot of the stuff in this condo is grey. I don’t even like grey that much. Or, at the very least, I’d add more accent colors.
Maybe I will, now that I’m never letting Nate back into this place again.
I take a sip of my wine, and another, and another as I fill Jaz in. By the time I finish, I’ve polished off the glass, and she has a murderous look on her face as she fills it up for me again.
“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” she seethes. “I can’t believe it. Like he’s even hot enough to be?—”
“Is it my fault?” I ask in a tiny voice, finally vocalizing the thing that I’ve been afraid of since I started reading those text messages. “Did I do something wrong? Is there something I could have done differently—should I have dressed sexier, or tried harder to figure out what he might want?—”
“Fuck, no,” Jaz spits out emphatically. “This is not on you, babe. In no way is this your fault. It’s his fault for being a slimy, cheating piece of shit?—”
I laugh, hiccupping a little, and press my hand over my mouth. “That’s what I called him, too,” I admit. “Well, not the slimy part, but?—”
Jaz shakes her head. “You can do so much better than him. You will do so much better. But you’re going to start by not blaming yourself for all of this.”
“I never knew he wanted anything like that.” I take another sip from the fresh glass of wine. I can feel the buzz starting to hit—I never drink very much, and rarely anything other than wine. Two big glasses of pinot noir is a lot for me. “I even asked a couple of times about his fantasies, and he never said?—”
“What do you want?” Jaz interrupts, looking at me. “That stuff you found on his phone, is that something you want to do?”
“I mean—” I hesitate, taking a big swallow of wine for courage. “Not that specifically, I don’t think. I don’t want a man who wants to be humiliated. That just made me feel sad, I guess. Not for Nate specifically, because he’s a piece of shit,” I clarify, and Jaz smirks. “But just the idea of that. But that part about begging for it—” I bite my lip. “I don’t know. There are definitely things I’ve thought about?—”