Page 90 of Any Second Now
“Do you like them?” He sounds so excited. I want to kick him. How dare he?
“They’re roses, of course I like them, but I don’t want them from you.”
Jacob has the audacity to make a sad little sound.
“It feels like so long since we talked. Since I saw you. I miss you, Ral.”
I sink onto the couch and lean my head back, closing my eyes and wishing for strength.
“It’s only been a month. And you ask for money, and then you spend a ton to get roses delivered. So really, I bought myself those flowers.”
The sickly sweet smell of the roses fills the Pink Palace, and my stomach clenches in objection.
“I have a job interview tomorrow, so I wanted to celebrate.”
It’s like we’re having two entirely different conversations.
“That’s great, Jacob.” I guess I’ll joinhisconversation, because otherwise we’ll talk in circles for eternity. “Where is the interview?”
I don’t know why I bothered to ask, but Jacob launches into a description of the company he’s interviewing with. I mostly block him out. Him getting a job would be amazing. I’ve already said I’m not giving him any more money, but I still feel so damn bad he’s struggling. Because while I’m having some kind of existential crisis, I’m at least not financially destitute.
Probably because I’m not a gambler. Or a compulsive liar.
I don’tnotcare about him. In other words… I still care about him. But I’m realizing it might be a real problem to continue this kind of relationship. Have I been enabling Jacob by giving him money and not cutting him off completely?
And I’m only now processing the look on Atticus’s face when he saw the flowers. It was surprise, bewilderment, then understanding. I truly thought they were from him until the delivery guy called out my married last name.
Then Atticus fled.
And I didn’t stop him.
It takes me a minute to realize Jacob’s gone quiet.
“Raleigh?”
“Sorry, what did you ask?”
“I asked when you’re coming home.” His voice sounds so hopeful.
“I don’t know.” I sit up and stiffen my back. There’s a sharp edge to my voice, and a pregnant pause follows.
The answer is, of course, in four weeks when my sabbatical is over. But he knows that. He just wants me to confirm I’m coming home tohim.
I’m not, though.
“I saw the video of you and that hockey player.”
“Mmm-hmm. I figured that from your note.” If hethinks I’m offering any information or insight as to what I was doing with Atticus, he’s gotta be freaking delusional.
“You don’t have to do this, you know,” Jacob says softly.
“Do what?” I grind my teeth together. I tap my phone to put him on speaker and lay it next to me so I can drop my head in my hands.
“You’re trying to be someone you’re not.” He pauses, and I consider hanging up on him, because I don’t want to hear whatever he’s going to say next. “I loved you exactly as you were. As youare. There’s no need to buy an RV and drive across the country and do whatever it is you’re doing with that hockey player to prove something.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” I want to sound confident, nonchalant, angry, even. But I feel insecure. Upset. Defensive. My phone buzzes. “Wait, are you trying to video call me??”
“Yeah. I want to see your face.”
