Page 33 of Valentine's Day Proposal

“Fuck, Willow is going to be pissed at me. I hope she’s sleeping soundly and not waiting up.” I looked at the clock again, nearly four a.m. I should have been home before 11, and the damn tow company was taking forever.

“I can call her.” Nina reached into her satchel and pulled out her phone.

“No thanks. She’ll hurt me if I give you her number.” I chuckled, aware that Nina was scowling. “Look, you have to admit you weren’t exactly kind to her at times.” I saw the flashing light of the tow truck in the distance and knew my salvation was nigh.

“Yeah, well, I had my reasons.” She flipped open her Uber app and set up a ride for herself. “You want me to call a cab?”

“Let’s see what this guy says,” I told her, opening the car door. I left her sitting in the car alone as I met the driver. He had me sign some paperwork and step away from the car. It was only a flat battery I thought, but his jumpstart didn’t work, so I had him tow it to my mechanic.

Nina was polite enough to call that cab for me, and I waited alone for another 15 minutes after her Uber picked her up. The cabby dropped me off outside the apartment, and I looked up at the dark windows, realizing Willow must be sleeping. So, breathing a sigh of relief, I made my way up and let myself in quietly. I shed my coat and shoes by the door, peeling off the layers of the black-tie event, leaving them draped over furniture as I struggled to bed.

The champagne I had ingested had worn off long ago, but the fatigue had now taken over. I walked like a drunk man to bed, absently folding the covers back and climbing in. When I was settled, I realized I had forgotten our under-over policy. I was supposed to be on top of the comforter with a blanket of my own. Exhausted and irritable, I almost let out an audible groan that would have woken her up. Instead, I controlled myself and slowly slid out of bed, retrieving the spare blanket from the chair in the corner of the room.

Thankful I hadn’t woken Willow up, I spread the blanket out and climbed back into bed, ready to ease my exhausted frame into a few hours of sleep before our news interviews started. I thought maybe she had been sleeping and knew nothing of the event and I’d get out of the lectures and arguing. But I was wrong.

I was still propped on my elbow, adjusting the blanket over my feet when her alarm went off. She reached for her phone, slapping the nightstand a few times before sitting up. As if on impulse, she turned to face me, her narrowed eyes searching the dark. I could tell before she said a word that she’d been crying. She looked angry, her brown in a deep V on her forehead.

“When did you get in?” Her tone was cold, no hint of emotion in it.

“Just now….” I didn’t think five a.m. was the time to discuss why, but I went on. “I had a dead battery.”

Willow stood, taking her phone with her. She flipped on the light, blinding me just as my eyes had started to adjust. She was wearing one of my t-shirts again, and a pair of my boxers. My eyes followed her movement. She walked to the end of the bed where a pile of clothing had been neatly laid out. A full outfit, but it didn’t look like the sort for television interviews.

“What are you doing? We don’t have to be awake for hours.”

“I’m going home.” She picked up the clothes, tucking them under her arm and scowling at me. “To my parents’ house.”

I sat up, suddenly alarmed. I knew that there was a chance she had worried over me and would be upset, but I didn’t think it was bad enough for her to want to leave. I had gotten the impression at last night’s event, that if she’d had time and privacy to answer my questions, she’d have confessed that she did love me. She did want to stay.

“Why are you leaving?” I turned my body, sliding my feet to the floor. I wore only my boxers, but she’d seen me naked. I grabbed a robe off the back of the closet door and put it on, chilled to the bone. “What happened?”

“What happened!” she snapped, suddenly irate. “I’ll tell you what happened. I sat here for hours wondering where you were. I had no way to contact you, and you didn’t call. What was I supposed to think was happening? I called Peter. He said you left before 10 p.m. So what were you doing for the past seven hours, Charles? And who were you with?”

I saw the suitcases, full and situated by the door. She was really leaving. I knew it was likely, but I hadn’t fully expected it, and certainly not like this. I wanted her to stay and talk things out, not run off at the first hint of trouble.

“Willow, be reasonable.”

“No, Charles. You want to stay out all night partying it up with other women, then do it. But I’m not going to stand around and wait for you while you do.” She turned and marched into the bathroom. I heard the lock click, and then the water started.

“Unbelievable,” I muttered under my breath. She acted angry, the way a wife would. The way a woman in love would act when her partner didn’t call or come home. This was not a woman who only thought of this arrangement like a contractual obligation. How had I not seen these signs before? She was jealous of Nina. She thought I had a thing going with the intern. “Fuck.”

I scraped my hand over my forehead. I’d spent this entire nine months trying to win an election and ruined my chances at getting her back. I knew what I felt. I fell in love with her all over again. I just hadn’t told her. I never unleashed my passion or affection on her like I should have because I was convinced she thought of me only as a paycheck. But the signs were all there.

I wanted to break down the bathroom door and climb into that shower with her again, the way I had in the hotel room. I wanted to fight it out until one of us kissed the other and we tangled our bodies in a feverish dance, collapsing together, then confessing my love to her. I wanted her to stay. Why hadn’t I spoken up sooner?

30

WILLOW

Icried in the shower, a little more than I should have. By the time I had washed myself the water was cold. Fog on the glass door and the mirror hid my reflection but I didn’t need to see myself to see how hideous I probably looked. Charles would see my red puffy eyes and judge me, but I didn’t care. He’d broken my heart for good this time. I didn’t want details. When I slung the accusation at him of being out with someone, he hadn’t even defended himself. It was proof enough to me that not only was he guilty of what I’d said, but he didn’t care.

I was right. He thought of this as my job. And what hurt more than anything else was that he didn’t even try to hide it this time. I’d known it was just a job from the beginning. I had signed the contract with the “no love” clause in it. I was the one who breached the contract—not him. He upheld his end.

I dressed, my hair still dripping as I buttoned my shirt. It was cold out, and my hair would probably freeze in the frigid air, but I didn’t have time to blow dry it. I had to be at Washington Dulles in 20 minutes. I’d planned only enough time for a fast shower and a faster exit. That way I’d avoid as much of the arguing and drama as possible. I had honestly hoped that Charles would just sleep through it and awaken to me being gone without a note. The brief argument and goodbye were more than he deserved as it was.

When I let myself out of the bathroom, he was seated at the foot of the bed with his hands folded in his lap. I held a towel to my hair, squeezing the tips as I shoved my hairbrush and toothbrush into my suitcase. He watched me as I shoved my socks on and slid my feet into my shoes. He was silent as I strolled to the closet and put on my jacket, but when I picked up the suitcase by the handle and started rolling it toward the door he stood.

“Willow, you can’t leave.”

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