Page 3 of Room Service
“Yes, and he’s a paying guest, so it’s different. If I’d asked his name, it would have just been awkward.”
“If you say so,” she says with a wave of her hand. “I’d have asked his name.”
“Yeah, right before you’d have flirted your way into his bed, I’m sure,” I say, but I inject humour into my voice, because Celeste is a free spirit who goes with the flow and sticks her finger up to what others think. She’s my breath of fresh air, and I’m going to fucking miss her when I leave.
“Elise Woods, I’m offended by the insinuation,” she says as she dramatically opens her mouth, as if she’s shocked, but really, we know she isn’t.
“You wouldn’t be if you saw him,” I mutter, conjuring up an image of the man in question and thinking about how I wish I weren’t married and if only I could be more like Celeste.
“He was really that good-looking?” she questions, interrupting my thoughts.
“He really was,” I say on a sigh.
Silence passes between us for a few moments, until Celeste says, “You really need to get laid.”
“I got laid about two years ago, and I don’t wish to repeat it anytime soon,” I tell her, even as the mere mention of it makes me feel icky. I shouldn’t feel that way about my husband, I know that, but he’s just so… cringe. My body was just a vessel for his small dick, once upon a time. And yes, I am fully aware that I would be telling anyone else to get the fuck out, but like I mentioned, I’m trying, and I have my plan in place. Until then, I’ll just continue to put up and shut up.
“That’s not a lay, that’s just some lazy prick lying on top of you and grunting in your ear while you’re bored stiff,” Celeste comments, and if it weren’t so fucking tragic, I’d laugh. “I mean, you need to really get laid, by a guy who isn’t all about himself and who knows what to do with it.”
“If only, Celeste.”
“What’s stopping you?” she asks, and I look at her in disbelief as I hold my hand up and point to my ring finger. “Girl, please, people have affairs all the time.”
“Well I’m not one of those people,” I tell her. She knows my feelings on infidelity, it’s a no-go area. I may be miserable as sin, but I still have my morals.
“I’m just saying… not everything is black and white. People seek comfort in others for all sorts of reasons,” she continues, unfazed by what I said. “And who says anyone has to know?”
“Oh my god, stop,” I tell her as I shake my head from side to side.
“What? You know it makes sense.”
“Maybe to you, but not to me.”
“So what? The alternative is to be fucking miserable until you leave his arse in the dust?”
“Yes,” I state.
“Elise, listen to me. You don’t love him—you never have. Your heart never truly let him in, so would you really be betraying him? Or are you just betraying yourself by denying yourself the chance to really live?”
I’m stumped as her big brown eyes stare at me. I can see that she’s hurting for me, hoping and praying that I just get the happiness that I crave, or a little excitement until I do, anyway. I get it, I really do, but could I really even think about cheating on my husband? Could I be a person that does that? I’ve never even entertained the idea before.
Celeste clearly takes my silence as food for thought as she carries on. “You’re twenty-five years old. You’ve been married since you were twenty. You settled down with him when you were eighteen, and your parents forced your hand to put that ring on your finger, making you feel like you had no other choice. I’m not even going to pretend to know what that feels like, but, fuck, Elise, you’re no longer connected to any of them”—she puts her hand over her heart—“in here. You once said that you let them go a long time ago, so I’ll ask you the question again. Would you be betraying him, or are you betraying yourself?”
I feel the tears prick the backs of my eyes.
She’s right.
I did say I’d let them all go and that the only thing stopping me from disappearing is money. Once I’ve got that, I’ll be able to go. I’ll be free.
I bite my bottom lip and blink furiously as my eyes divert to the clock on the wall. My break is over in two minutes, and I’ve never been happier for my break to end. I need a minute.
“I need to get back to work,” I tell her as I stand and move around the table. When I get a couple of feet away from her, she speaks.
“You know I’m right, Elise.”
Yes, I do, but it might just hurt me more to admit it.
Chapter Four
