Page 80 of Until He Confesses

"You're not coming in?" he asked, bringing me back to my senses.

"Yeah," I replied, and he stepped aside so I could enter. After shutting the door, he went on his way without even checking to see if I was following him. It was as though I was not a guest or even a stranger, and once again, I felt conflicted about our relationship. I had come here to establish boundaries, but he wasn't doing so against me.

Sighing, I took in the grand foyer, decorated with a spectacular chandelier and paintings. It was all so interesting to look at, but I couldn't act familiar when I was trying to distance myself, so I followed him where he had exited from. Eventually, I heard the slight clanging of what sounded like pans, so I followed the sound and soon arrived at his extensive kitchen. He was by the sink, pouring something out onto a plate. This was a bit strange for me to see given his stature in life, so my attention was held as I took a seat on one of the island stools. He took the plate to the microwave, and a few minutes later, he brought it over to the counter. He grabbed a bottle of red wine and two glasses and took his seat across from me without a word. It seemed to be a grilled chicken salad, and it looked quite delicious, but he didn't offer me any. He took a few bites while watching me, then pushed it aside as he grabbed the wine bottle. He filled his glass and set it down before beginning his inquisition.

"Why are you here?" he asked, and I couldn't help but be amused because it had taken him so long to ask.

"Maybe finish your dinner first?” I advised.

"I'm done," he replied, and I looked toward the unfinished meal. I was here to establish boundaries between us, yet he had invited me and treated me as anything but a guest. It seemed I was an old friend he couldn't get rid of, yet he didn't object to my presence even if it was late at night.

Sighing, I pulled out the cash that I had placed in an envelope and slid it over to him. He gave it a look as he sipped his wine, but he didn't move to open it.

"Is this for me?" he asked, and I nodded.

"For dinner tonight," I said and saw his hand stop. He looked at me and then smiled. Shaking his head, he continued drinking and then drained the glass.

“Thanks,” he said and took the envelope.

“I need to go to bed, so you need to leave,” he said and I felt every bit of the chill in his words.

Now, I was very clearly being treated like a stranger, but I couldn’t blame him. I hadn't just come here to hand him the money, and I stayed in place.

“What about our agreement?” I asked, and he stopped. Then he turned to me.

"Haven't you turned that down?”

“No,” I replied. “I've been considering it.”

“And?”

“I'm ready,” I told him. “I think I can get through it, but I have one condition.”

“And what is that?” he asked.

“I ask that you be exclusive with me until you get tired of me. I would like to protect myself, so in the meantime, I hope that you can only have me as your partner. Your s-sex partner,” I stuttered.

He looked at me as though he was considering my words, and then, to my absolute surprise, he shook his head.

“No,” he said, and I was taken aback.

“What do you mean?”

“I've lost interest,” he said. “I felt the pull when we were discussing it weeks earlier but not anymore. I think it's best if we both move on with our lives.”

At his words, I was sure that he was joking, and for the first few seconds after, I couldn't say a word. I half expected him to suddenly laugh and confirm to me that he was pulling my leg, but when more than a minute passed, and he hadn't included a single word to his statement, I knew that he was dead serious.

I didn't know how to react or even feel, so I did the first thing that came to mind. I accepted his stance and rose to my feet. I felt ashamed, I realized, as I headed toward his foyer, although I wasn't necessarily in a rush. I needed to think to figure out how I could resolve this.

I'm certain that he had felt slighted by how rude I had been to him earlier, but I hadn't expected this to affect our relationship with each other. After all, since we were supposed to have a distant relationship anyway then it should be the norm.

During these contemplations, I was able to find the courage to stop and look at him when I arrived at the door.

“Is this because of what happened at the restaurant today?” I asked. “Or are you truly no longer interested?”

“I'm no longer interested,” he said, and I stared at him.

He was angry, and I didn't need anyone to tell this. So now I had two options: I could just head out and bring an end to all of this, or I could find a way to apologize.