Page 15 of Vitamin Sea
“It’s Liam,” she said, sounding distressed.
After that, the floodgates had opened, and all her words came quickly.
Before Chloe knew it, she unleashed a torrent of thoughts onto her unblinking boss.
The state of her relationship, her fears, Liam’s excuses, her suspicions, and her work to keep everything looking picture-perfect to everyone on the outside.
Chloe didn’t cry, although she had teared up.
Finally, unburdened by the jumble of thoughts, she realized that by voicing them, she had been fooling herself the last several months.
The expression on Dasha’s face didn’t change as Chloe kept spewing—she took it in like a Stanford-trained psychologist and let Chloe get it all out without any outward signs of judgement.
At one point, Chloe realized she wasn’t even sure what she was saying anymore and the stream of words became less of a torrent and more of a trickle.
Finally, a few minutes later, she found she had nothing left to say.
A quick glance at her watch revealed that she had been in Dasha’s office for twenty minutes.
Cripes. Twenty minutes and only a vague notion of what she had said in her emotional blackout.
Across from her, Dasha’s poker face gave no indication as to just how graphic or unhinged Chloe had gotten. Dasha continued to stare at her and then finally spoke.
“Well,” she raised, just barely raised, one eyebrow, “it sounds like you are under a lot of stress. Relationship issues can wreak havoc on a person’s self-esteem.”
Chloe nodded as Dasha’s last line hit her.
It was very insightful and for the first time she realized that her relationship wasn’t the only thing that had taken a nosedive.
So had her confidence. It wasn’t something she had noticed about herself, but now that someone had voiced it, she thought back to some of her recent behaviour.
Instead of meeting the world wide-eyed and smiling, she now avoided eye contact and wore an expression that could best be described as dour.
The helplessness she felt on the inside with regards to her relationship was shining through to the outside.
“From someone who has gone through something similar, I’m not going to tell you what to do,” Dasha said evenly, “but I will tell you that a woman’s intuition is rarely incorrect.”
Chloe sat there and pondered what her boss was saying.
“I’m not saying Liam is doing anything,” Dasha continued.
“But it sounds like you have suspicions. Well-warranted ones,” she continued in a measured tone, “that you’re keeping bottled up.
Keeping it bottled up won’t help your relationship with Liam, or your relationship with your friends and family, or your work. ”
Dasha sat back in her chair and rested her arms on the armrests.
Chloe didn’t know quite what to say, but she was grateful for the advice and to have been given the space to vent.
Which she had done. Like a volcano. She knew it was probably inappropriate for her to bring her personal life to work, but damn if it hadn’t felt good. But after, oddly, she had felt a bit deflated.
Chloe shook herself out of her reverie and looked at the candle, which had melted down another few centimeters. The wine in her glass was down to the last dregs and she placed the pricey and now empty bottle on the kitchen counter.
Tears sprung to the corner of her eyes and she blinked several times to hold them back.
She wasn’t sure if it was the wine that was making her weepy, but she knew it hadn’t helped.
It was now nearly 9 p.m. and there was no sign of Liam.
She turned off the Soft Jazz playlist, blew out the pillar candle and, as ill-advised as she knew it was, grabbed another bottle of wine.
A loud ‘glug’ punctured the air as she poured out a mega pint before grabbing a glass of water and heading for the couch.
So much for a romantic anniversary dinner.
Clicking the T.V. onto Netflix she clutched her wine as she scrolled through her watchlist until she hit on Bridget Jones —one of her favourite comfort classics. She didn’t identify with the thirty-something British singleton looking for love, but there was something very feel-good about the film.
She draped a fuzzy black blanket over herself as she curled up on the couch.
In the hopes of injecting a bit of romance into her and Liam’s celebration dinner that evening, she had put on a short, sexy dress.
The bouncy blowout she had had done at the salon was meant to give her a bombshell look.
Now, as she lay on the couch defeated, she felt annoyed by her bouncy hair.
The come-hither makeup she had practically troweled onto her face was slick from the wine, which had made her feel hot and flushed.
Which was just wonderful.
It was in the spirit of hope that she had made dinner, set the scene, and dolled herself up. She imagined that by the time Liam got home, she would look a lot more like ‘nope’.
Bridget Jones began speculating about her future as a single woman, ending in being eaten by wild dogs, at which point Chloe checked her phone for any missed messages from Liam.
She knew he hadn’t texted, but a small part of her hoped she had somehow missed the sound of his custom notification. Notwithstanding the fact that two hours ago she had turned her notifications on to the loudest volume possible.
Her black phone screen came to life, and she was hit with disappointment that her boyfriend had not sent her a message.
With a sigh she set her phone on the couch and took a big drink of wine. The glass clinked as she set it on the table and snuggled herself under the fuzzy blanket.
◆◆◆
The sound of the lock turning in the front door jolted her awake.
Chloe’s eyes flew open and she lay there, mentally trying to gather her bearings. It took her a second. Her head was hazy.
A glance at the television showed rolling credits for Bridget Jones . There was a wet feeling on the side of her mouth, which, she surmised, meant that she had been drooling.
Fantastic.
The romantic evening she had planned and prepped for had turned into a total disaster.
As Liam ambled through the door, Chloe wiped the side of her mouth and blinked a few times before letting out a sigh. Liam didn’t say anything as he busied himself with his shoes and briefcase.
She did a quick calculation— Bridget Jones was finished, which meant she had slept for almost an hour and a half. That meant Liam was just walking in the door around 11:30 p.m.
“Hey.” Liam sounded surprised to see her lying on the couch.
“Hey,” she replied back, trying to keep the emotion out of her voice. She was thoroughly sloshed by this point, but she didn’t think that letting her emotions get the better of her would help the situation.
“Why are you all dressed up?” Liam sounded genuinely perplexed. He walked over with his briefcase before glancing at the table and seeing the special settings she had done.
“Did I miss something?” He sounded just as confused as he looked.
Chloe stayed silent and pulled the blanket tighter. She didn’t trust herself to talk.
Liam dropped his briefcase on the kitchen counter and came over to sit on the couch next to Chloe.
“Chlo?” he said.
She sat up and the blanket fell off her shoulders. Her glass of wine somehow found its way back into her hands and she took a sip.
Nice, Chloe , she thought. The last thing she needed was more wine.
Liam looked at her expectantly. She knew what a mess she must look like—smudged makeup, drool stain on the side of her mouth, blowout smooshed on one side, and red-wine-stained lips.
“You forgot our anniversary,” Chloe said, her voice wobbling. She didn’t want to cry, but her feelings seemed to be a lot stronger than her resolve.
“Our what?” Liam said.
“Our five-year anniversary,” she said, sounding a little stronger.
“Oh, fuck.” He closed his eyes. “I completely forgot.”
“I learned how to cook steak au poivre and bought a bottle of Tignanello.” Her voice was a little stronger. “I thought I would surprise you. I thought you would remember. I reminded you last week.” Her voice started to wobble again.
Liam pursed his lips together.
“I’m really sorry, Chlo.” He looked at her glass of wine and then stood up to get himself one. “I’ll make it up to you this weekend. I was stuck at the office.”
Insecurity washed over her and she waited until he had made his way back from the kitchen before she blurted out: “Was Sophia there?”
There was a pause in which Liam’s body tensed and he answered back angrily.
“Jesus Christ. Yes. Sophia was there. She’s my coworker. We’re working on the deal together. Obviously she was there.”
Chloe said nothing. The revelation that Sophia had been working late with him, even though she knew she would be—she was Liam’s coworker for goodness sake—stung. Like a taser to the face. Or, in this case, like a taser to the heart.
Liam sat back on the couch with his wine; his attitude was markedly changed from just one minute ago.
Through her wine haze, Chloe wondered how it had all gone so wrong.
She had spent time learning how to make this dinner, had cooked it, set up their condo with candlelight and music, dolled herself up, and had waited patiently for her boyfriend of five years to show up and be surprised.
Instead, her boyfriend had spent the evening at work in the company of a tall, blonde coworker named Sophia, and Chloe was now the subject of his annoyance. Even with a blood alcohol content of ‘toasty’ she knew that this wasn’t the way it was supposed to be.