"Could I have ten ones for this?" my customer asked, handing me back a ten.
I cleared my throat. "Of course."
During the next lull, Jessica came over to me and whispered, "What was up with Tristan? He looked like he was about to kill you. I thought you said you weren't fighting last night. What was his death stare about?"
I shook my head. "I don't know. I thought we were fine. Sex last night was mind-blowing-if anything, he should have been winking or licking his teeth at me." A blush touched her cheeks. I apologized, "Oh, sorry, I didn't mean to say that. It just came out."
Jessica shrugged but still didn't bring her eyes up to meet mine. "It's okay. You're the only gay friend I have, so hearing you say things like that is somewhat shocking, but kind of cute. I'm glad your spontaneous marriage is working out."
"Thanks. I think it's going good. I mean … there are some adjustments we have to make. Tristan's house is not what I would consider optimal living conditions, and obviously something's up with him today, but we're working on it."
She glanced over my shoulder. "Gotta go. Customer."
"Okay. We should pick a day we're both off and go have lunch or something," I suggested.
Her smile could have lit up the room. "I'd love that."
I grinned back, but I had a customer of my own so the rest of what could have been a great conversation had to wait for another time. Whatever. I felt pretty good about our friendship.
I THOUGHT about going straight home, but as I neared the shop I reconsidered. I hadn't talked to Tristan all day, and it felt strange. No texts. No messages. Not even a smile from him at the bank. I pulled in and parked in front of the office door.
The bell on the door sounded when I entered, and Wes stood up on the other side of the desk. "Hey, Grant," he greeted me, but with less enthusiasm than previously. He walked over to the counter and stuck out his hand. I shook it. "Is everything okay with you and Tristan? He's been seriously off today. He even threw a wrench across the floor when the bolt he was removing wouldn't budge."
Tristan was "off" here and at the bank? A cold shiver of dread ran down my back. I stuttered, "Um, I-I don't know. Maybe he's mad about something and h-hasn't told me." If he was throwing things at work, maybe I didn't want to know.
"Whatever it is, he's pissed." Wes's eyes were wide, and he wasn't smiling.
I heard a grunt from the doorway as Tristan walked in. He glared and possibly considered walking back out, but he didn't. I think Wes wanted to avoid standing in between us, so he ducked his head and quietly exited the room.
My stomach jittered, and I wasn't sure why. I'd only been afraid of Tristan that one time when he'd pinned me to the bed and attacked my nipples. I shivered, reliving it in my head. When the silence lingered and I could hear him breathing heavily, I nervously asked, "H-have you had a rough day?"
He brought his gaze up and locked his burning eyes on me. "What do you think?" he snapped.
My hands were shaking now, and I swallowed hard. He seemed so large and commanding that I felt like an ant looking up at his shoe as it was coming down on me. "I d-don't know," I stammered.
Tristan stormed to his side of the counter and thundered, "You don't know? Where the hell were you last night, Grant?" he demanded.
"I was … ." I couldn't look at him like this. I felt guilty and trapped, even though I had a door behind me. I finished explaining, " … at Mel's."
His frown deepened. "In the middle of the fucking night?"
"He needed me."
He threw his hands up exaggeratedly. "Ah! That explains it. He needed you. What about me, Grant? When do I get to need you? How would you feel waking up in bed … alone … after blissfully falling asleep with your lover in your arms? Or maybe you'd blow it off as no big deal." He mimicked my voice. "Oh well, I guess Tristan just went off to work without saying good morning. Except … no, wait … it's four o'clock and no one goes to work that early," he finished, twisting his tone into a snarl.
I stepped back. If he flipped the hinged part of the counter to jump at me, I was fairly certain I could flee through the door behind me. "I'm sorry," I peeped.
"He's always going to come first, isn't he?"
I answered, "Cindy broke up with him, and he was crying on the phone. Mel never cries, so I thought the best thing I could do was drive to his house and comfort him. He's my best friend."
He snarled, "And I'm just your husband. I guess my title counts for less because I haven't been around for years. I can see where I rate on your priority scale." He was bitingly sarcastic as he turned around and paced the two feet between the counter and the office door. Then suddenly he whirled around and punched the door dead center, splintering the thin wood.
I jumped back and grabbed the door handle, readying my escape. "I love you, Tristan," I said quietly, knowing there was little I could say when I was indeed at fault for not telling him where I'd gone. "I didn't mean to-"
"Do you? Do you really love me? You could have left a note!" he roared.
I trembled.
"You could have … ." His voice broke, and tears rolled down his cheeks. "You could have told me where you'd gone." He gasped as a sob escaped his throat. He bent over the counter and rested his head in his hands. "I knew … ," he confessed through tears. "I knew you went to him. I knew when you left the bed with your phone that you were talking to him in the living room. I knew when I heard your car leave just after midnight that you drove over an hour in the middle of the night to see him." He looked up, red eyed, and my chest seized. "Are you always going to put him first? Or will there be a day when I finally mean enough to you that you'd ask me to go with you?" He bowed his face again and buried it in his hands.
I sort of expected anger, because I knew he had it in him, but this total breakdown threw me. I released the door handle and stepped closer. I reached out, but hesitated to touch him. I whispered, "I'm sorry. I wasn't thinking."
He looked up, all strength draining from his voice, as he said, "No, you weren't. You just took the call and left me without considering my feelings at all. Maybe you were right when you said we should live apart while fixing up my house. You don't feel like a part of my life yet." Tristan stood up and backed toward the office door. His eyes fell to the floor. "Maybe getting married was a bad idea."
"No!" I said sharply, reaching out as he turned and left, sucking all the air from the room with him and leaving me trembling.
Chapter 14: Headaches, Heartaches, And Saying You're Sorry For Things You Didn't Know You Did Until You Did Them
TEARS STREAMED down my face as I drove home. This was not something small that would blow over in a day or two. The situation between me and Tristan existed because I'd forgotten about his feelings completely. He was right. I was a dick. I think had it been anyone else, or any other circumstance, I would have gotten defensive and possibly yelled back. But I truly loved Tristan. Last night, before I'd gotten up and left him, we had been closer than ever. He'd made love to me so deeply, so tenderly, it felt as though we inhabited the same skin. Before, I had cried afterward on several occasions, but last night Tristan had cried quietly as he came inside me, gazing into my eyes, arms wrapped around my body and lips searching for mine.
I never imagined love feeling like my heart exploding until he mentioned living apart.
When I arrived home, I parked and bent over the steering wheel, giving way as heaving sobs racked my body. "I can't," I cried. "I can't live without him." Was I having a panic attack or something? My reaction was way over the top for as little as Tristan had said.
I didn't know what to do, but I had to do something. I needed to calm down and look at this logically. As I went in my little house, I wiped my eyes and thought about how I could prove I loved Tristan. Needing help, I grabbed the phone and called Jessica, blowing my nose while it was ringing. I could have called Mel, but he'd have felt guilty for being the reason for the argument.
"Hello," Jessica answered.
"I screwed up," I blurted, diving right into the mess without the buildup. "I left Tristan in the middle of the night to comfort Mel after he broke up with Cindy, and now Tristan's pissed. He doesn't believe that I love him, or that I'll ever feel like a part of his life to the point of putting him first in anything." I inhaled sharply and pleaded, "What do I do? Tell me what to do."