Tell Me You Love Me

by Julie Prestsater

  “Thanks for waiting for us.” He gives me a harsh look, his brows pulled together with annoyance.

  Fuck you, I want to tell him, but I don’t.

  “Sorry. We thought you might be a while so we thought we’d get a head start.”

  “No need to start thinking now.” He flashes one of his sarcastic grins and taps my nose with the pad of his index finger. God, I hate it when he acts like I’m some uneducated, dependent, and weak woman who couldn’t exist without him. I was right there with him, ready to take on the world until we made a decision as husband and wife for me to stay home. It doesn’t make me any less significant a person for making that choice.

  What it does is make me bored and unfulfilled for staying home and making sure his needs are met when mine aren’t.

  Maybe I would feel differently if we had children. Chills tingle up my spine at the idea. There was once a time when I would be giddy as hell at having his babies. But now...not so much. Once again, the thought of bringing children into our loveless relationship makes my head pound even more.

  I need a drink and we haven’t even started with dinner.

  The night continues with Candi and I sitting side by side, trying to ignore our asshole dates, and, the other women at the table. The other wives are in the business, too, so they talk shop right along with the rest of them. I have always been the odd woman out, so it’s nice to have Candi to share the shadows with. Now, I feel terrible for having judged her before. She actually has a Masters in English literature and is working on a second in creative writing. She teaches twelfth-grade English. Who would have thunk it?

  When the server asks to take our dessert order, Jace puts his hand on my forearm and leans in to whisper, “Do you think that’s a good idea?”

  “What?” I snarl. I know exactly where he’s going with this. I take another gulp of my wine trying to push away the pain he has already made me feel tonight.

  I about died when he told his partners I have been doing Turbo Jam every day. The women just gave me looks of pity and told me to keep up the good work. Candi squeezed my leg under the table and when they focused on something else, she whispered, “You’re gorgeous, honey. Fuck them.” She went on to tell me that she wished she could get some meat on her bones, but she has some rare metabolic disorder that won’t allow her to. Some women have all the luck.

  “You’ve been working so hard. I’d hate to see you ruin it with a crème brûlée.”

  The nerve of this mother...

  “Jace, are you kidding me? The portion sizes at this place wouldn’t fill a toddler and you’re worried about me gaining a pound with a Polly Pocket-sized dessert?”

  The chair in this swanky place screeches across the floor as I push away from the table and stand. Tossing my fabric napkin at him, I shout, “Don’t rush home. I won’t be waiting.” Then, I do what I’ve never done before...

  I walk away from him. I. Walk. Away.

  My strength is back, and I’m angry at myself for ever letting it waver. The days of letting Jace get the best of me are over. He no longer has control of me.

  Almost to the elevator, I hear the sound of my name. It’s a female voice. It’s not like I expected my husband to come after me.

  “Liz, wait up!”

  I look over my shoulder and spot Candi barreling toward me in her seven-inch hooker heels. How she can walk in those things has to be a gift from God.

  “Oh, hey.” I push the button for the next lift down and glance up at her. “I know. I’m a dumbass, but I just got tired of his shit. I’m done, Candi.”

  Thoughts of Ryan have crossed my mind more than once tonight. Maybe that’s what has gotten into me. Those gorgeous eyes, his sweet grin. The way he looks at me. The way he makes me feel like I’m worthy of being his friend. Desirable.

  When Jace turned off the radio in the ride over here, I thought about Ryan. He doesn’t tell me I sing like shit. No...he just grins, teases me, and tells me we’ll sing together.

  When Jace opened the door to the bathroom and inspected me, I thought about Ryan. He wouldn’t have looked at me like I was making him want to barf in his mouth. His eyes would have raked over my body like he wanted to taste me. I’ve seen it happen before. If he saw me in this dress, with my breasts plump and my ass curvy, he’d have to look away. Not because he was grossed out, but because he was turned on.

  That’s why I walked out tonight. Why would I settle for being Jace’s joke when I could be someone else’s princess? By someone else, I don’t mean Ryan either. I mean, anyone. Really. I do.

  Candi and I ride down the elevator while I’m lost in thought. When we’re finally to the bottom, she speaks up. “Now that we’ve ditched those dicks, where to?” She tucks her arm into mine. “Hopefully somewhere with a killer dessert menu.”

  God, I’ve just met her and I already love her.

  * * *

  The sun shines brightly through my bedroom window. It’s like a human being hovering over me until I’m startled awake. My eyes open slightly, still trying to adjust to the overpowering light. I turn to my bedside table to get a look at the time. It’s already nine o’clock. I can’t believe I’ve slept in this long. And I can’t believe Jace allowed me to.

  On any other Sunday, he would have banged pans, slammed doors, or turned on the TV so loud I would have to wake up. Today, I’d have to assume he’s either sitting in front of his computer scowling or he’s left to who knows where. I can’t imagine he’d actually let me sleep in.

  Especially after last night.

  The mere thought makes me thrilled and nervous at the same time. I’ve never walked out on my husband before. Never. Not even when he told a few of his partners he wanted to sign me up for a boot camp and asked if any of their wives would be interested in joining me. Yeah, that was at a company picnic. He didn’t know I overheard and I kept it that way. One of his coworkers called him a jackass and I never heard of the idea again. But even then, I didn’t walk away. I stood by his side for the rest of the day...like only a good wife would be expected to do.

  I flip over onto my stomach and pull a pillow underneath my head, closing my eyes and snuggling it close. It feels so nice to be alone and rested. If he’s not going to bug me, well then I’m just going to take advantage of it.

  No sooner than I start to drift off, Jace startles me awake.

  He leans across the bed and wraps his arm around my waist and pulls me toward him. The warmth of his breath drifts across my cheek as I sigh into his touch, momentarily enjoying the strength of a man’s touch. I can feel his cheek against mine and I wonder why he’s so close to me.

  “Honey, are you awake?” He throws me off guard with his kind tone. I still.

  I don’t open my eyes. I just speak. “Yes.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  My eyes flash open. Did he just apologize?

  “I really screwed up last night. I’m sorry I made you feel so bad. You looked very pretty and I should have told you that. Instead, I acted like a jerk.”

  “Okay,” I say, tentatively. This is a first for us. He doesn’t do apologies. Ever. I don’t know what else to say.

  “When I came home and you weren’t here, I felt like my whole life was over. I couldn’t imagine coming home every night without you being here. You mean too much to me. I’m sorry. I really am.”

  Tears sting my eyes. Who knew he could feel bad about treating me horribly? I certainly hadn’t been expecting this. His criticism and loathing I have become accustomed to, much how I’ve become accustomed to my mom’s indifference. I may not understand it, and I am not at a place I feel good enough about myself to accept it, but I want to be. Being treated poorly by your loved ones is never something you should just accept. So when Candi and I left, we found the closest diner and sat there all night—sampling pies and drinking tea. A cab dropped me off at home around three in the morning. When I walked into our bedroom, Jace was fast asleep. He hadn’t even left a light on for me. I assumed he was angry
with me and we’d talk about it in the morning.

  This? This isn’t what I expected.

  “I bet you’re still really exhausted, so I’m going to let you sleep. I’ll be back.”

  Turning around to look at him, I see the hurt in his eyes. I have to say something. Anything. “Where are you going?”

  “I’m going for a run. Or maybe just a walk. Not sure. Just thought I’d get in a little workout while you rest.” He backs away from me, pushes off the bed, and stands. His facial expression is softened, unlike his usual sneers.

  “Mind if I join you? I can be ready in about fifteen minutes.” I have no desire to be with Jace, no desire to run the Hill of Death, or walk it, for that matter. But, there is something inside me that reacts to kind gestures. Am I gullible? That’s a possibility.

  Maybe it’s that I desperately seek acceptance. Or for everything to just be okay. Maybe that, too. I know I want to be wanted. When I left last night, I didn’t really have a forward action plan, so whatever it is, I feel he’s extending an olive branch with his apology, and I need to accept. So, my choice is to try. To accept his apology and fucking try.

  A smile creeps across his face and he nods. “Sure. It will be fun.”

  * * *

  Fun doesn’t even begin to describe the hell I’ve been transported back to as Jace and I head up the hill.

  It starts out at a nice casual pace. We walk to the end of our block hand in hand. I feel a sense of connectedness I haven’t felt in years. All it took was one apology, one long-awaited and necessary apology. He caught me off guard. I didn’t think he was capable of seeing his evil ways. I’d forgotten the kinder side of Jace as it’s been so long since I’ve seen it.

  As soon as we turn our corner onto the Hill of Death, his attitude changes. And so does his pace.

  My short legs can’t keep up with his long ones. He makes no attempt to slow down or shorten his stride for me. Just a few more minutes at this pace and I’ll be left in his dust.

  He pauses. His fists balled up onto his hips. Gone is the softened expression from earlier this morning; replaced by his usual sneer. “Come on, Elizabeth. You should have stayed home if you weren’t going to keep up. I told you I wanted to work out. Not take a Sunday stroll.”

  I grit my teeth, trying to dig down deep to summon that strong woman back from last night. The one who told him to shove it. I swear I should just turn around and walk back home. Instead, I pound my feet to the pavement and pick up the pace. I refuse to quit and let him win.

  We reach the halfway point, where the girls and I have our book club meetings. The topography levels out long enough for me to catch my breath. Jace stops at the benches. He doesn’t sit. Resting would be for wimps and that’s definitely not him. He’s practically sprinted down the hill. My shins are killing me from pounding the pavement on the way down. It feels like thousands of needles are prickling the front of my legs from my knees to my ankles. When I crack open my bottle of water, he watches me with his hand on his hip again, as if I’m holding him up and he has somewhere to be. But, I need to rest before we head back up.

  He’s not having it though. I can feel his gaze hovering over me. He keeps shifting his weight from one leg to the other waiting impatiently for me. I know he’s trying to figure out what he’s going to say to me; probably searching for the right words to hurt me even more.

  That’s it. I can’t take it anymore. “Jace, why in the hell did I come with you if you’re just going to be an ass to me?”

  He laughs. It’s a quick chuckle, but a laugh nonetheless. “Why the hell did you bother to come if you’re just going to walk like a fucking turtle? I could have been back home by now if I didn’t have to wait for your fat ass.”

  Holy Mary Mother of God. Pray for me because I’m about to kill my husband. That’s if I could see him through my glassy eyes. No, he did not just say that.

  “What the fuck did you just say to her?” A loud voice can be heard from behind me. I know that voice. I could pick it out of a crowd. Any other day it would have made me melt, but now... Now is not the time.

  Tears fill my eyes as I turn around to face him.

  Son of a bitch. He just heard Jace call me a fat ass.

  “Who the fuck are you?” Jace closes the distance between him and Ryan. I’m stuck in the middle and I wonder if I click the heels of my Reeboks if I’d end up in Kansas. Hell, I’d even settle for Walmart. Any Walmart.

  “I’m Lizzy’s friend.” Ryan points to me and then jabs a finger in Jace’s direction. “I suggest you apologize and then get the hell out of here before I kick your ass.”

  “Don’t bother, Ryan.” I say, holding up my hand to him. “I’m fine and it’s over.”

  “Lizzy, huh?” Jace spits at the ground. Luckily, it’s not at me because the way Ryan’s eyes widen, he looks like a lion about to pounce. “Well, I’m Elizabeth’s husband, so I suggest you move along before I kick your ass.” This time, he’s the one to jut his finger in Ryan’s direction.

  Ryan’s gaze turns to me, a look of confusion written all over his face. “Husband?”

  “Yeah, asshole. I’m her husband.”

  Ryan continues to stare at me and I know without a doubt he’s hurt. But then his focus changes to Jace. “I don’t give a rat’s ass who you are. No one talks to Lizzy or any other woman that way. So why don’t you act like the man we know you aren’t and apologize?”

  “You know what? Fuck you!” he shouts at Ryan.

  He opens his mouth to say something else, but Ryan doesn’t give him the chance. Instead, Ryan punches him straight in the face. I’ve never heard the cracking sound of a fist slamming into another human being before, and it’s not one I’ll ever forget. Jace falls backward, like the sight of a cartoon character with stars floating above his head. When he lands on the ground, he shakes his head trying to clear the fog, I’m sure. There’s blood seeping from the corner of his mouth, but I don’t care about him. I turn to Ryan and look down at his hand. He’s pumping his fist from pain or anger, I don’t know which. Maybe both.

  “Are you okay?” I ask, reaching for his hand and holding it up so I can get a better look. It appears to be fine, so I take a chance and let my gaze trail up to his eyes. The hurt is still there. No doubt, he’s confused and looking for answers, but now is not the time. He tugs his hand free of my grip.

  Jace startles us with the sound of groans as he gets to his feet. Both Ryan and I turn to look at him.

  “Is he okay?” Jace yells. “Is he okay?” he repeats himself, this time louder than before. “Fuck you, Lizzy.” Ryan’s nickname for me sounds tainted rolling off Jace’s tongue. “Oh, and don’t rush home. I won’t be waiting. You’re right about something for once—it is over.”

  A sob escapes my throat as tears stream down my cheeks. I don’t know what’s worse—my husband telling me he’s leaving me, or Ryan hearing it all. Either way, humiliation is an understatement of how I feel.

  Jace storms off, stomping his feet and swinging his arms back and forth as he walks up the hill. I steal a glance at Ryan as I hear Jace mumble, “Fucking fat bitch. Fuck her.” The words sting even more with Ryan here and I wonder if he’ll react by running after Jace and punching him again. I hope not. Jace is not worth it.

  When our eyes meet, Ryan reaches out his big hands to me and pulls me into his chest. His arms wrap all the way around me as he tucks my head under his chin. The feel of his fingers threading through my hair and gliding up and down my back provides me with the comfort I need to pull myself together.

  When my sobs begin to slow and my breath steadies, Ryan pulls back and lifts my chin with the tips of his fingers. He cradles my face in both of his hands, looking longingly into my eyes. “Lizzy?” His usual deep, rich tone is now broken. My name barely escapes from his lips. He’s breathing deeply as if trying to compose himself. He hesitates, searching my eyes for answers. The playful looks he once gave me are now gone. “You’re married?”

  There’s n
othing I can say that will make this okay, so I don’t say anything at all.

  I just nod.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Lizzy

  Ryan doesn’t respond. Not with words anyway. The look of defeat in his eyes is enough to break my heart. There isn’t anything I can say to heal the hurt I’ve caused him. As much as I want to, what can I possibly say? I’m sorry? In my mind, that just sounds so cheap and worthless. Saying it out loud had to be worse.

  The silence between us lingers as he gazes down at me, his eyes locked to mine as the months of our building friendship—relationship—come into question. Every time we were together, every conversation we had. Every slight touch. I bet he’s questioning it all. Everything he felt. Everything he thought I felt. I want to reassure him. Tell him that it was real. That my feelings for him were real and still very much are, but right now, it would all sound like a big lie. How could it not?

  Ryan breaks the silence with a long, deep breath, before he steps away from me. “I’ve gotta go.” He begins to walk away, but then suddenly, he looks back at me. “What he said,” he shakes his head, “don’t believe it. You’re beautiful, Lizzy. Perfect. Just the way you are.” It’s the last thing he says before he crosses the street and heads in the direction of the firehouse.

  I watch him. He runs his hand through his hair. He scrubs his hands over his face. He kicks a rock. But he never looks back. As much as I want him to, he doesn’t. When he’s completely out of view, I finally crumble. I don’t even make it to one of the benches; I just sit in the grass and cry. Not because of Jace. Not because my marriage is over. I cry for Ryan. For the man who cared about me, no matter how I look or how not in shape I am. He listened to me. He talked to me. He truly enjoyed spending time with me. And now, he’s gone.

  God, I screwed this one up.

  Tears flow down my face. My heart squeezes in my chest. Sobs escape from my mouth with loud whimpers. I must look like a freak sitting on the side of the road on a Sunday morning crying my eyes out, but I can’t help it.