Page 23 of Running from Drac
“Do you even want to marry me, Amber? Did you fuck him because you have cold feet or something?”
“Of course I want to marry you, Eddie. I wouldn’t have said yes if I didn’t. It’s just—”
“Just what?”
He won’t even let me finish my sentences.
God, that is so Eddie.
“I’m tired, Eddie. Tired of you treating me like crap. Tired of you always putting your needs first and never my own—”
“I don’t—”
“Please let me finish,” I say sternly, desperate to communicate my feelings. I’ve been holding them in so long they feel super glued to my esophagus.
“Fine, by all means, keep going.”
“See, that’s what I mean. Sometimes you say things that piss me off. Things like that. It’s like you’re totally dismissing my feelings. I tried to talk to after you told me about Jinafer, and instead of it bringing us closer together, it seemed to tear us apart. You changed after that, Eddie. When we first met you would go out of your way to make me smile or laugh. You’d do these cute romantic things that really made me feel special. Like when you used to pretend to be the Count fromSesame Street, or take me on romantic dates all the time. When was the last time we did something spontaneous? When was the last time you asked me what I want or needed? Everything’salways about you and what you want. It’s like you don’t even care about my needs.”
“That’s not true, Amber. I always take care of your needs.”
I laugh mockingly at him, shaking my head in disbelief. “Yeah, you would think that, wouldn’t you? Don’t you get it, Eddie? Everything is always about you. What you want. What you need. We go the places you feel like going. Hang out with your friends all the time but not mine. And don’t even get me started about our sex life—”
“Our sex life is perfect,” he argues.
“It sucks, Eddie. Our sex life sucks. Sex is supposed to be fun and exhilarating, but we always do the same positions, half of the time you’re drunk off your ass, and the worst part is, once you get off, you’re done. Fuck my needs and if I finished, too.”
“What the hell are you talking about, Amber? You always finish.”
“No, Eddie, I don’t. There’s this thing that girls are really good at. It’s called faking it. I’ve learned how to perfect that shit the last few years. I haven’t had a real orgasm for the last three years.”
His brow crumples. “You’ve been faking it!”
“Every girl fakes it, Eddie. Don’t act like you couldn’t tell. Or maybe you just didn’t notice. You’re so busy doing your own thing, you don’t even pay attention to what I want or what feels good to me. Face it, Eddie, we’re in a rut, and maybe that’s why both of us cheated. We both know that this is going nowhere if shit doesn’t change.”
“I’m not in a rut. Maybe you fucking are, but I sure as hell ain’t. You know, it kinda sounds like you want to break up or something?”
“I’m not saying that… I just need things to change. I need you to respect me, to meet me half way in this.”
He gets up off the bench and starts pacing. “You know, I came all this way to apologize for how I acted last night. I even stopped by your place before I got here, and Pippa told me you were at work. But she also warned me that I shouldn’t even bother trying to make up with you. She said that you already had one foot out the door. I didn’t want to believe her, but I can see it now.”
“Pippa doesn’t know what she’s talking about. I love you, Eddie. I want this to work, but shit has to change. I can’t continue pretending like everything is okay, when it’s not. We didn’t even really talk about Jinafer after it happened. You just expected me to accept it, and for me to just forget what you did. But I haven’t forgotten, Eddie. There’s not a day that goes by where I’m not thinking about it.”
“It happened over a year ago, Amber, and I haven’t done anything since then. Why can’t you just let it go?”
“The same reason you won’t be able to let the Vegas thing go. It’s about trust, Eddie, and neither one of us trusts the other right now.”
He slips off his hat and runs his fingers through his hair. He always does that when he’s frustrated or about to blow.
“Do you want to be with me?” he questions, his tone getting even more irate and annoyed.
“Yes, of course.”
“I don’t believe you. If you wanted to be with me, you wouldn’t have cheated.”
“I could say the same about you.”
His glare slices through my heart. Instead of responding, he just crosses his arms, staring at me like he’s waiting for an apology.
