Page 32 of Valentine's Day Proposal

The longer I sat there worrying, the more it turned back to anger. My mind stewed on every instance where Nina had flirted with Charles, and he hadn’t pushed her away. Early on, learning that she’d volunteered to be his arranged wife, the times at different rallies where she rubbed his shoulders to relax. That day at the picnic when she served him like his little mini maid. And the outfits she wore were ludicrous, meant only to attract attention, but the only man she hung on was Charles.

I stewed, my mind yoyoing between wanting to hunt him down and prove that something wasn’t going on between him and the intern, and packing my shit so that first thing in the morning I could leave. The latter won out, and I found myself with my suitcases out, clothing being stuffed into them as I cried. I hadn’t told him I was pregnant; he didn’t deserve to know that yet. I would wait until after the holidays when it was too obvious.

Why had he asked me about what I wanted? In that moment it appeared that he had wanted me to stay too, that somehow this whole arrangement had finally changed his heart and he was gravitating toward me again. But he wasn’t home. He was out God only knows where.

I slumped onto the side of the bed, finding my cell again. This time my call went straight to Mel’s phone. It was the middle of the night—I knew that. She would be sleeping. But I needed her, so I called a few times until she picked up.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” Just like Peter, Mel was groggy, her words slow to form. “I’m here.”

“Mel, he’s not home. It’s late and I left the party because I wasn’t feeling well, and I wish I had stayed. He was supposed to come right after the party. I called the campaign manager and he’s at home sleeping. Where is Charles?”

“Ah, shit.” Mel was now wide awake, probably sitting up in bed worried about me. “I’m coming over.”

“No,” I told her, not sure how that would go over if Charles did come home. He knew about Mel’s fascination with me. “That’s okay. Just talk to me.”

“Okay, girl. I’m here.” I could hear rustling of fabric, probably Mel climbing out of bed. Then she returned. “So, he didn’t come home. Where do you think he is?”

I didn’t know whether to cry or scream. My mind tried to rationalize things, use logic to deduce facts and turn them into reason. But my gut told me Nina had sunk her claws into him finally and he was off in a hotel somewhere with her—or worse, her home.

“I am terrified that he’s with that damn intern,” I hissed, finding my hand clenched into a fist. Why did I hate Nina so much?

“Okay, but this is an arranged marriage, right? You were partners with one purpose in mind, to help him win the election. And now you’re mad that he might be going out on you? This is why I told you not to get emotionally involved. It’s actually the reason I told you not to do it to begin with, honey. You still love him. Now you want him to love you, but he just used you as a means to an end. How do you know he wasn’t porking her the entire time?”

Tears won out. My eyes spilled over at Mel’s lecture. She was right. He could have been having sex with ten different women this past year, and I was just his talking head—the trophy wife he dragged around on his arm. But the sex had been convincing. He made me believe that he missed me, that he felt sorry for what he did to me now eight years ago. He even bought me that anniversary present. Was that all a sham?

“Look, Willow, just grab your things. Call an Uber and come to my place.”

“No. I can’t just leave. I have things to say to him still. I’ll leave tomorrow. I will just go to my parents until after the holiday.” I calmed myself, using my sleeve to wipe my eyes. “Can I count on you to run the firm until January at least? Maybe later if I find a good place to open our new office.”

Mel was my rock. I knew I could count on her. She had never let me down before and I knew she never would, unlike Charles and his level of dependability. He’d done nothing but let me down for almost a decade.

“Of course, I have your back. You take the time you need. We’re going to come out of this stronger, you know?”

“I’m still never going to date you.” I forced myself to chuckle and I heard Mel snicker.

“Well, that’s okay. I met someone anyway. She’s sweet. You’ll like her.”

I felt better after speaking to Mel, good enough that maybe I could get some sleep. So, we ended the call, and I curled up in bed, flipping through my phone. I didn’t need to call my parents to know they’d be okay with me coming to their house. And I didn’t need to speak to Charles about tonight to know I wanted to go home. I’d suffered the insanity of this emotional rollercoaster long enough.

Even if he came home professing his love for me, I wasn’t sure I’d stay. I wasn’t sure what I wanted anymore. All I knew was, I needed a break, and I wanted to be with my mom. I got on the Hopper app and booked a flight home, leaving at seven a.m., then set my alarm for five and went to sleep.

29

CHARLES

Iglanced at the clock in my car. Time ticked by agonizingly slow sitting there waiting for the tow truck. Nina insisted on waiting with me despite the fact that I had very rudely turned her down earlier. I felt bad about that, but she would never have gotten the point any other way. When Peter checked out, I was in my car trying to leave. My battery was flat as a pancake, so I went back in to see if he could give me a lift.

“I’m sorry if I made things awkward,” Nina said, sighing. “You could have been home hours ago.”

“It’s fine.” I rubbed my forehead. I didn’t dare take her phone and use it to call Willow. She’d have Willow’s phone number then, and that would cause another argument. As it was, I had to wait on the truck, and Nina’s phone was the number they had to reach me to let me know when they’d be arriving. It had been hours already and we had called to check on the tow. Still at least a half an hour out.

“I mean, we could have shared an Uber home.”

“I told you. The press would eat that up. It’s bad enough we’re sitting here in a dark parking lot. Peter would kill me if he knew I blew all our hard work for the past year and a half in a stupid decision to share an Uber in the middle of the night with a different woman. All my ethical and moral credibility would go out the window on the very day I won the race.”

Nina grimaced. “Sorry.”

When it came time to leave, I could have flagged down at least ten other people to help, but Nina was there. She insisted I use her triple A membership. I thought better of it, but then my own guilt over how I’d spoken to her left me kicking myself when I took her offer. Roadside assistance was a friendly gesture, not an advance.

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