Page 66 of Something Good
There was a hesitation. “Yeah. I don’t know what I was thinking, calling at this time of night. I’m sorry if I woke you.”
“I was awake.” Remembering his anxiety, I asked, “Are you okay?”
“Yeah. Yeah, I’m okay.”
I waited, wondering if he would give any indication as to why he’d called in the middle of the night. Despite his assertion that he was okay, he sounded…lost.
“Did you know I was married?”
Everything in me clenched at the wordmarried. It was what I had wanted for Will, one of the reasons I’d let him go. So he could have the life he deserved. But the reality of it wasn’t something I wanted to face.
I gripped the phone tighter, my jaw clenching. “Why are you telling me this, Will?”
“I don’t know.” His voice was quiet, and when it faded to nothing, I wondered if he’d fallen asleep. “I have to fly to Chicago on Monday.”
My brows drew together in confusion at the apparent change in topic. “Okay…”
“I’m finalizing my divorce.” Another bombshell. He was dropping them right and left.Divorce? It explained why I hadn’t noticed a ring when I’d seen him the other night.
“Dmitri cheated on me. From the time he met me up until I caught him with his cock buried in Sebastian’s ass on Christmas Eve.”
Jesus.“Will, I?—”
“I just feel… Why doesn’t anyone want me, Sammy?”
“What?”
“Never mind. I shouldn’t have called.” The line went dead.
I stared at my phone, flummoxed by the roller coaster of a conversation I’d just had. Was he drunk? I hadn’t detected any hint in his voice, but some people hid it well. And it would explain the erratic jumps from topic to topic. Hell, it might even explain what had possessed him to call in the first place.
A part of me wanted to call him back to make sure he was okay. To get answers to the questions his confessions had triggered. To listen to that deep, velvety sound of his voice.
To tell him Ihadwanted him. That it wasbecauseof how much I’d wanted him that I’d set him free.
And there, in the darkest hours of the night, I could admit that maybe some part of me wanted him still.
I didn’t call him back.
37
WILL
Bubbles floatedup the sides of my pint glass as I sat at No Place Lounge on Monday night. I’d come straight from the airport, not wanting to go home to an empty house. Goldie was at Mom’s out in Astaire, so I wouldn’t even have the ball of fluff to keep me company.
It was amazing how easy it had been to finalize the dissolution of my marriage. Dmitri hadn’t contested it, and that last bit of indifference somehow hurt almost as much as the cheating had.
Looking back, I wasn’t sure I’d ever been in love with him. I’d certainly been infatuated with theideaof a guy like him. Older, well-dressed with a successful career, living in a high-rise in a big city like Chicago—he’d introduced me to the type of life I’d only seen on TV. He’d made me feel special, swept me off my feet, and for the life of me, I couldn’t figure out why.
Not long after we’d married, almost like a switch had flipped, he’d become completely disinterested in me. We rarely fucked. He made up excuses to come home late. We were roommates more than husbands. He put on a good show at work events only to completely ignore my existence once we were in the car on theway home. He’d cheated on me from the beginning, had mostly ignored my presence in his life, and hadn’t seemed troubled over the divorce, so why go through with the marriage in the first place?
I didn’t think I would ever know. And if I was really being honest with myself, I wasn’t sure I’d ever know why I put up with it either. I knew the way he’d treated me wasn’t normal, that I deserved better, but for reasons I couldn’t identify, I’d rarely pushed back. At some point, I’d just accepted all of it. And I think I was almost as mad at myself for that as I was at Dmitri for his affairs.
I sipped my beer as I continued mentally marching through my pity parade. I should have suspected he was cheating, and I didn’t know why, after everything else, that had been the deal-breaker, but I’d been absolutely disgusted by the idea of some other guy getting railed in the same bed I slept in. That had been the final straw.
There were so many things about my marriage that I didn’t understand, but maybe some things weren’t meant to be understood.
My phone buzzed on the bar top with an incoming text. Figuring it might be Jason or my mom, who both knew the reason for my trip to Chicago today, I was surprised to see Sammy’s name pop up on my screen. I wasn’t sure what had possessed me to call him the other night. In a moment of weakness, I’d poured myself some bourbon and gotten steadily drunk on my couch at home. I’d felt vulnerable and alone, and I’d punched the call button impulsively, regretting that decision almost immediately. In the light of day, I’d been embarrassed as hell and had tried to convince myself it had been a dream, but his name in my outgoing call log made it impossible to dismiss.
