“Haven, don’t do anything if you’re not ready to deal with the consequences.”
“What does that mean? Is there something you know that you’re not telling me?”
“It just means, what it means—no more and no less.”
Andrea didn’t really answer her question. “I’m sorry. It’s just, Dylan and I talked earlier, but it’s eleven p.m. He didn’t mention hanging out with friends after work or anything? Is he maybe with Zack?”
Andrea sighed. “We have a new baby. Zack values his life, so he knows better than to be out this late. Honestly, Haven, I don’t want to get into the middle of anything between you and Dylan.”
Haven chewed on her bottom lip. Andrea wasn’t giving her you’re-being-ridiculous vibes but more like I-know-more-than-I’m-willing-to-tell ones. Her anxiety shot up not down. “I know. I’m sorry. It’s just . . . Never mind. I know you and Dylan are close, and I shouldn’t have even asked.”
Before Andrea could respond, Haven heard a noise. “Wait, I think I hear him coming through the front door now. I’ll talk to you later.”
“Good. I’m glad he’s home. Maybe we can do lunch or go shopping this weekend?”
Haven was so distracted that she hadn’t actually heard Andrea. “Hmmm . . . what? Yes, of course, that sounds great. We’ll chat in the next couple of days to firm up a time. Talk to you later.” Quickly, she disconnected the call and waited for him to come into the bedroom. Haven was pissed, but what else was new.
When Dylan entered the room, the top two buttons on his wrinkled white shirt were already undone, and Haven could see a dusting of blonde hair peeking out from beneath. Only yesterday, she had picked up that shirt and others like it from the cleaners.
She stared him down. “No, hello?”
He wouldn’t look in her direction. “I can already see you’re pissed and ready to fight. I’m tired and don’t want to deal with it until tomorrow.” Dylan threw his suit jacket on a chair next to his side of the bed, and as he moved closer, he seemed irritated. He pulled some loose change out of his pocket, took off his watch, and dropped them on his nightstand. “I need a shower.”
Haven got a whiff of him as he moved around the room. Nausea rose up in the pit of her stomach. She whispered, “I can smell her on you.”
Finally, his eyes met hers. “What?” He spoke as if he hadn’t understood.
Her voice became a menacing growl as she enunciated each word. “I. Can. Smell. Her. On. You!”
Dylan ran his hands down his face. “Don’t start, Haven. I’m tired. I worked hard today, and I just want a shower so I can go to sleep.”
He started to walk away, but Haven quickly climbed out of bed to block his path. “No. You want to wash her off before you get in bed with me.”
“Move, Haven! I told you I’m not doing this with you. You’re fuckin’ nuts for no reason.” He dismissed her words and attempted to brush past her.
Not tonight—Haven refused to do this same old dance with him again. She was going to be heard. “You’re telling me not to start? Yet, you come home to our apartment, smelling like cheap perfume and sex.”
Dylan didn’t say anything.
Her eyes watered. “You’re not even going to deny it this time? Has our relationship sunk so low that you don’t even care enough about my feelings to make up an excuse?”
His voice rose. “I don’t need an excuse!”
Haven pressed her lips together to keep them from trembling. “You can’t even be bothered to make one up?”
Dylan was tired of it all too. He dropped his hands to his side. “What do you want me to say?”
Haven’s tears spilled over. “Tell me you were with a friend, tell me you lost track of time and fell asleep somewhere, or better still . . . tell me you won’t put me through this again!”
Dylan raked his fingers through his hair. “Fine. I was with Zack. Happy?” It was more than obvious that he didn’t give two shits about her or her feelings.
Haven lost it. She balled up her fists and started pummeling his chest and screaming. “You lying bastard! We’ve been together for four years! I’ve given you everything! EVERYTHING! And all you’ve done is put me through hell?! You sorry sonofabitch! How could you do this to me?! I hate you . . . I HAAATE you!”
Her hands moved wildly connecting not only with his chest but smashing into the left side of his face before Dylan was finally able to catch her arms by her wrists.
The person who looked down on her had the face of a stranger. The man she remembered was gone. His face was scrunched up as if she’d done something wrong. Lips that used to kiss her so tenderly were now pressed into a thin firm line. What hurt Haven the most was his eyes. They used to twinkle and sparkle every time he glanced her way. Now, they lacked any warmth as they bore angrily down into hers. “Stop it, Haven!”
She stilled holding his eyes hostage, hoping that Dylan would not only see but feel the pain he caused. There was no way to control her tears as they fell down like a torrential rain.
