Page 24 of Envy
“Why the hell would I go out to eat with you?”
“To prove you’re not afraid to be alone with me. To confirm you’re really done with me and show me you’re not affected by me in the least.” He flashes his charming smile, daring me to argue.
“I’ll go, but only because I’m hungry. And because I know you’ll just sit with me anyway.”
“Perfect. I’ll take it. Where do you want to go?”
“There’s a pizza place down the street. They’re quick.”
He throws his head back in laughter. “That’s fine with me. I can eat slow, my love.”
My love.That stings.
With an about-face, I begin the trek toward the restaurant, and Wyatt has no problem keeping in step with me.
“Did you break up with Russell?” His tone is nonchalant, but his posture is rigid while he waits for my answer.
“I can’t break up with someone who’s only a friend.”
“I’ll rephrase. Have you ended your friends with benefits relationship with Russell?”
“Not that it’s any of your business, but we haven’t hadbenefitsin months.”
“That’s good to know. Keep it that way.”
We reach the restaurant door, and I turn to roll my eyes exaggeratedly at him before walking inside. “I’m not having this conversation with you. Find another topic.”
“All right. Just remember you asked for it.”
He asks the hostess to seat us in the booth that provides the most privacy. Though she seems to ignore his request at first, she takes us to one that is the farthest from the other patrons. He gestures for me to sit first, so I slide into one side, and he slides in beside me, trapping me against the wall.
“You can’t sit over there?” I ask incredulously.
“No. If I give you too much space, you’ll run from me again.”
We order our drinks and meals, and after a few minutes, the waitress returns with our drinks. Wyatt offers her an extra $20 on her tip if she stays away from our table until the food is ready or until we call her. She readily agrees and disappears, leaving us alone. Leaving me alone to face Wyatt. To face my demons.
Aren’t they one in the same?
“What happened to you at the club the other night? Why did you have to leave so quickly?”
“Well, don’t ease into the conversation on my account. Just jump right into the crux of it all, why don’t you?”
He reaches for my hand, silently sharing his strength. I think he knows what was happening to me, but maybe he hasn’t connected the dots for what caused it yet. “Talk to me, Megan. Please.”
Russell’s voice, urging me to face my problems and deal with them head on, echoes in my memory. “Sometimes I have severe panic attacks. One started that night, and I had to get out of there before I freaked out in front of everyone.”
“Russell knew what was happening?”
“Yes. He’s seen them before. He has talked me through them until I’m calm enough to function again. When he recognized what was happening, he took me back to my apartment as fast as he could.”
“Do you know what triggered it that night?”
I think about how to answer his question, and why I even feel compelled to answer it. Part of me wants answers fromhim—a big part of me. If I were trained in the art of waterboarding, I’d use it on him until he told me everything I wanted to know. But another part of me doesn’t want the answers at all. If his explanation turned out to be worse than what I’ve imagined, I’m not strong enough to cope.
He gently squeezes my hand, bringing me back to the present. To him. To his question.
“It was a combination of things that kept piling up until the final straw pushed me over the edge.”
