Page 35 of Seasoned
Renee: Please come get me so you and I could have a conversation about what happened tonight. I promise I’m not mad. Call me when you get here.
He couldn’t have gone far. They’d only been upstairs for a few minutes, and it would have taken him a few minutes to exit the hotel, go to the car, and get on the road. He should get back to her shortly, and then they could have a real heart-to-heart conversation.
He never came.She couldn’t believe he never came and couldn’t believe the ridiculous message he’d sent back.
Clive: Just now seeing your message. At home now. Talk in the morning.
Standing in the driveway behind her car after the Uber driver dropped her off, Renee glared at the light in the window in the upstairs bedroom next door. Clive’s bedroom, which meant he was still awake. She debated whether or not she wanted to confront him, but truly, there was no way she could sleep tonight without giving him a piece of her mind. And it would have to happen in person, not over the phone.
She strode across the grass to his front door and rang the doorbell. She only hoped she didn’t wake Chelsea or Margie.
After a few minutes, Clive appeared at the front door.
“Can I come in?”
“Of course,” he said in a tired voice.
Renee stepped across the threshold. “What the hell happened to you tonight? Not only do you run off and leave me, but then you send me that lame message, which was petty and inconsiderate.”
“Petty?” Clive demanded. “I didn’t see the damn message until I got home. I don’t text much, in case you’ve never noticed.”
Renee pointed a finger at him. “You have no right to be angry. You bailed on me and then didn’t pick me up.”
She was shaking now. What was happening to them? One minute everything was fine—the next, he was losing his temper and they were arguing like a couple who couldn’t stand each other. She’d been here before, but this time—this time the panic gripping her insides tightened with viselike precision that left her consumed with the fear of losing him.
“What do you want from me?” His green eyes flashed at her, his anger so unprecedented she couldn’t speak at first.
“I want a little consideration. I want my needs to matter in this relationship. I want you to do things I want to do, too.” This always happened. Something always changed. Was she too demanding. Too easy-going? She didn’t have a clue how the night spiraled out of control.
“And I did, but I didn’t want to hang out and talk for God knows how long with a bunch of people I just met. I missed your message. I’m sorry, okay? If that’s not a good enough answer, then too bad. I can’t help you. I told you a boring literary event wasn’t my idea of a good time, but you still insisted that I attend.”
Her face burned from humiliation. He made her sound needy—something she prided herself on not being. “I did not insist. That’s so unfair.”
“Sometimes the truth hurts.”
“Is this really what you want? This is how you want to end the evening?”
“I didn’t start the argument, you did coming here in the middle of the night to yell at me.”
His face was so hard, so unyielding. She’d never seen him like this and didn’t like it, but there was nothing she could do. He didn’t see anything wrong with what he’d done.
Throwing caution to the wind, she asked, “What did I do wrong?”
“I…” He shook his head, but no answer came.
The silence hurt more than if he’d given her a ten-bullet-point list of all her faults. Maybe he simply didn’t care. Maybe he got tired of her and she wasn’t worth answering.
“I’ll just go home, then.”
She opened the door, leaving it open as she walked on legs so tingly and rubbery she was certain she wouldn’t make it through her own door. Despite the hurt feelings and the anger at Clive’s behavior, she wanted him to stop her. She wanted him to call her name and tell her to get her butt back there. At this point, he didn’t even have to apologize. She just needed to know that he cared.
But neither of those things happened. He didn’t call her name. He didn’t tell her to get her butt back there. He didn’t care enough.
He just let her walk away into the night.
16
With heavy feet, Clive climbed the stairs, thoughts so consumed by the argument he didn’t notice his daughter at the top of the stairs until he was on the second-to-last step. She leaned against the wall in her robe, arms folded over her chest.
