“I never knew you did that with her.” I walked around the room, admiring the transformation. “Where is all your stuff?”
“I broke down my bed, threw it in the corner of my office for now.”
Something about his vacating the bedroom and turning it over to Bea suddenly seemed so final and didn’t sit right with me. I started to read into the meaning and overreacted.
My heart started to pound in panic. “You’re not coming back.” I hadn’t meant to say it out loud.
“What?”
“You gave up your room because you know you’re not coming back here. You’ll go away, become a big star. You’ll visit, but deep down, you know you won’t be living here anymore.”
It was like all of my insecurities suddenly had a voice. I really hadn’t meant to lay everything out on the line like that. It all just came out after a long, stressful day.
Justin was speechless at first. When he finally spoke, his tone bordered on angry. “That’s what you think?”
“I don’t know. I guess I’m just thinking out loud.”
“I made this nursery because she shouldn’t be sleeping in your fucking room. She deserves a nice space of her own. I was planning this long before I ever knew about the tour. I gradually collected this stuff over the past month, hid everything in my closet.” He reached into the bureau drawer for a pile of receipts, took them out and roughly threw them up in the air. The white slips rained down onto the floor. “Look at the dates on these. They’re from weeks ago.”
I felt really stupid. “I’m sorry. I’ve just been stressed over your leaving. I was trying not to let it show, and I guess it finally caught up with me.”
“You think I’m trying to separate myself from you? You’re the one who put up a gigantic wall the second I told you about the tour. If I had my way, I would want nothing more than to sleep in your fucking bed tonight—inside of you—because I’m leaving in less than two days. Two days, Amelia! Instead of enjoying each other, you’ve been shutting me out. I’m respecting your wishes and not pushing anything because I know my leaving is hard enough for you, but fuck!”
Feeling ashamed, I said, “I’m sorry for overreacting. I made this about more than the nursery. The room is beautiful. Really.”
“I’m gonna go check on the food.” Justin placed Bea in her crib and abruptly left the room, slamming the door behind him. I looked up at the stars on the ceiling, deeply regretting my loss of composure. The sound machine had switched to a medley of thunder and lightning. It was a fitting representation of the mood.
Dinner was a quiet one that night.
With no permanent bedroom anymore, Justin slept on the couch.
I didn’t sleep at all.
***
Justin would be gone tomorrow.
I needed to fix things before he left, or I would regret it. Bea was quietly napping in her new nursery, so I figured I would take the opportunity to talk to him.
Justin’s mountain of black luggage was piled together in the corner of his office. The sight of that alone gave me anxiety.
As I made my way down the hall, the sound of him beating the punching bag could be heard coming from the exercise room.
Standing in the doorway, I watched as he hit the bag with more force than I’d ever seen him exhibit before. Justin was completely in a zone and either hadn’t noticed me or pretended not to.
“Justin.”
He didn’t stop. It was unclear whether he could hear me, since he was wearing earbuds. I could hear the music blasting through them.
“Justin,” I repeated louder.
He continued to ignore me as he hit the bag even harder.
“Justin!” I screamed.
This time he looked over at me briefly, but he didn’t stop punching. That confirmed that he was definitely ignoring me.
Determined not to run away from this situation no matter how painful, I stayed in the doorway watching him for several minutes until he finally stopped. Leaning against the punching bag and gripping it, he looked down at the floor while gasping for air but said nothing. After a long moment of silence, he finally spoke.
“I’m losing you, and I haven’t even left yet.” He turned to me. “This tour is not worth that.”
“You have to go. You’re not losing me. I just don’t know how to handle it.”
A stream of sweat trickled down the length of his glistening chest as he walked toward me but stopped short of touching me. The smell of his skin mixed with cologne served as a reminder as to just how much I was kidding myself when it came to my ability to steer away from him sexually.
“It’s understandable. Completely understandable,” he said.