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“A short one, yes.” Her voice had an edge now that was beyond surprise. “I introduced myself to a member of your family and extended a common courtesy.”
My eyes narrowed as suspicion joined jealousy. “How did you introduce yourself?”
“The same way you referred to me when you invited Finley over to dinner. Your girlfriend. I wasn’t aware that it would be a problem.”
“It’s not like we’d really talked about who we were going to tell.” That was a shit excuse, and I knew it.
“So, I’m a secret.” Hurt flashed, there and gone almost too fast for me to see.
I needed to fix this, but like every other time I’d found myself on a path that only promised destruction, I refused to turn around. “That’s not the point. I want to know what you two talked about.”
“I told you, we said who we were, and I offered to bring him up here.” Her voice was tight, eyes flashing. “What is your problem?”
My hands curled into fists. “My problem is that you know my brother and I have issues, but you talked to him anyway. Or maybe you did more than talk, and that’s why you’re being so defensive?”
Her jaw dropped, and color flooded her face. I wanted to believe it was embarrassment that I was right, but no matter how much I wished it, I knew better. And still, I couldn’t stop myself.
“Did he flirt with you? Did you flirt with him? He had to have told you what happened, right? Did he make you feel sorry for him? Or maybe you just wanted to flirt–”
The slamming of the door cut off the rest of my sentence, and I realized just how badly I’d just fucked things up.
Again.
Twenty
Ashlee
Walking out probably wasn’t the most mature way to handle things with Nate, but if I hadn’t, I would’ve said something that just made matters worse. I was shy around people I didn’t know, and often quiet even around ones I did, but too many people mistook my soft-spokeness for weakness. Even I had my limits, and he’d hit them. I needed to cool off before I could think with any sort of clarity, and my best bet for calming down was to be away from him.
I indulged in a long, hot shower, and then some comfort food for dinner before settling on the couch. I was a little disappointed that he hadn’t reached out yet, but it didn’t surprise me. He was a proud man, unused to having to bend, especially when it came to relationships.
I’d probably give in before he did even, even though he’d been in the wrong with his accusations. I wasn’t going to just back off though. If this was going to work between us, we had to communicate. If all we were doing was having sex, we’d only need to have an initial conversation where limits were set, and then it’d only be a matter of sticking with them. He had no problem respecting limits and safe words.
The thing was, now I wondered if he respected me outside of the bedroom. As an individual, yes, I could count on him, but I was still trying to understand where I stood as his girlfriend.
I sighed and let my head rest on the back of the couch. I couldn’t figure this out by myself. I needed someone to bounce ideas off, someone to talk things through with.
I needed my mom.
I turned off the TV I hadn’t really been watching and picked up my phone. It was seven o’clock, which meant she was probably getting herself a glass of red wine and some dark chocolate – her favorite evening indulgence. When I’d still lived at home, I’d often joined her, doing my homework while she read or watched TV. It had been my favorite time of the day for a long time.
“Hi, Mom.” I didn’t bother trying to pretend I was okay. She would’ve heard it in my voice anyway.
“Hey, sweetie. What’s wrong?”
“I need some advice,” I said. “Well, I need to vent and get some advice.”
She immediately understood. “It’s about Nate, isn’t it?”
“He’s so frustrating!” I pulled my legs up onto the couch, tucking my feet under my butt. “Today, when I was coming back from lunch, his younger brother was in the lobby. Now, Nate told me on Sunday that he and this brother didn’t get along. Something happened that messed up their relationship.”
“He didn’t tell you what it was, or is it something you can’t share with me?”
I knew that tone. Mom always had these sorts of clarifying questions when I was upset. From the outside, it might’ve sounded like she was nitpicking, but she liked to have context when she responded.
“He didn’t say,” I answered. “I’m okay with that. Things between us happened so fast and out of order. Or at least the order I’d always thought my relationships would go. There’s a lot we haven’t shared, but no one knows everything about their partner right away. It takes time.”
“It does,” she agreed, seeming to sense that I needed her to reassure me that my thoughts weren’t just me being naïve.