Page 131 of Demo
“Go,” was all she said, before she turned, stormed back into the bedroom and slammed the door.
I immediately kneeled down to scoop up the engagement ring, then turned and slid my arm under the refrigerator, feeling around for the wedding band, but I couldn’t find it. I slid back and sat against the wall opposite it, holding my head in my hands as the tears rained down my cheeks and fell off my chin. Kennedy whimpered next to me and nudged his nose between my knee and arm, causing me to unfold myself.
“It’s OK, boy. It’s OK,” I said as I rubbed his head. He came closer and nuzzled his snout to my face as I cried harder. “Look, boy. I’m gonna be away for a little bit because I fucked up. But I need you to stay here and protect Lizzie, OK? You think you can do that? Yeah?”
He whimpered some more, and as I stood, he did a few circles, his tail tucked between his legs, as he watched me wipe the tears from my face and the snot from my nose. I gave him one final scratch on the head, and then bent down and kissed him there, before I looked up at the closed bedroom door. I turned and walked out of the apartment, turning the lock on the door before closing it behind me. Then I stepped over the clothes Lizzie had thrown into the hallway and descended the stairs.
I got into the truck and brought it to life, and I felt like someone had died. I looked up at the window one last time, then backed out of the driveway and pulled onto the street, and as I drove away, I knew I would never be the same again. We would never be the same again.
What did I do?
Chapter 37
LYZBETH
Iwakeupwithmy head in a vice. My mouth is so dry my tongue feels like it is cracking, and my eyelids are suctioned to my eyeballs as I try to pry them open. I am lying face down sprawled across the bed, wearing a backward sleep shirt, my left arm dangling off the side. I pull it up and push myself over, so I roll onto my back, and am briefly startled by a little “Yip!” that sounds from behind me as I roll on top of Kennedy.
“Oh, sorry, buddy,” I croak out as I scooch over a little. He goes back to snoring.
Then I remember Knox is on the other side of the door, on the couch. Or at least that’s where I left him. Maybe he left already? I recall what happened last night, coming back here after Emily had the baby. I pull my hand up to my lips and touch them with my fingertips, remembering his mouth on them.
Then I quickly blink that thought away. It’s only lust, I tell myself, and I can’t get caught up in fixing my heart with our bodies. I pull myself up too quickly, my stomach rolls and as soon as I’m on my feet I stumble a few steps toward the dresser and crash into it, catching myself with my hands. The thud causes Kennedy to stir again, and when I hear him whimper I turn to see his head up, cocked to the side as he assesses me.
“I’m OK, bud. Not one of my best mornings, but I’m fine.”
Then my brain spasms as I hear a soft rap on the bedroom door. “Lizzie? You OK?”
So, Knox is still out there.
“I’m good,” I say. “Just getting my legs under me. Be out in a minute.”
“I’m making pancakes,” he says through the door.
Huh?“Um, OK. But I’m pretty sure there’s no flour … or eggs … or syrup, for that matter.” I rub my temple as I push myself to a fully upright position, so I’m standing on my own,
“I ran to the store and bought a mix. And orange juice. And a few other things since, well, it looked like you didn’t have much.”
“Yeah,” I cut him off. “I get it.” And then I mull over my current situation: My estranged husband is making pancakes and “picking up a few things” from the store to fill my cupboards, after we had hot hate/love sex, which he probably thinks was “welcome back” but to me was “goodbye.”
Maybe.
Possibly.
God, I just don’t know anymore.
I need to shower, but my stomach growls, and I really want some damn pancakes. So instead, I grab a pair of underwear and sweats from the drawer and tug them on. I glance at myself in the mirror and am horrified by the sight. Licking my thumbs, I try my best to swipe away the mascara smudged under my eyes, then I pull the hair tie out of my hair, gather it back up and try to slick down the fly-away pieces as I re-secure it.
The final result looks very much the same.
As soon as I open the door, Kennedy leaps from the bed and rushes past me into the main area of the apartment. He runs right up to Knox, who has his back to me as he flips pancakes at the stove.
“Hey, boy,” I hear Knox greet him, then see him drop a piece of bacon the dog snatches mid-air. When he turns and sees me, his eyes widen a bit.
“Don’t,” I say, putting a finger up. “Not one word about my state of being this morning.”
Knox pulls his lips between his teeth to hide his smile and whatever the hell was about to come out of his mouth. With a spatula he points to the stool at the island sitting in front of a plate that has pancakes stacked on it, and I take slow, steady steps in that direction.
“Juice?” he asks as I near. He’s already uncapping a bottle of water and setting it in front of me.
