Chapter 8: Arguments and Apologies

Natalie called as the drinking session was winding down. I hesitated, and didn’t answer until she called a third time.

My phone buzzed and vibrated in my pocket, Derrick mouthing “Just answer, man” as he flagged down the check. Finally, I stepped outside, the night air biting.

“Babe, the light at home is broken. It’s so dark—I’m scared.”

Natalie’s voice was choked with sobs, making my heart ache. All the unpleasantness vanished from my mind. I got up, paid the bill, and hurried home by Lyft. My friend laughed, “Fight at the head of the bed, make up at the foot.”

And it was true. As soon as I opened the door, Natalie threw herself into my arms. She was only wearing a thin silk nightdress, her eyes red from crying, looking even more pitiful. I picked her up by the waist, deliberately ignoring the pile of high heels she’d kicked off at the entrance.

Her perfume—something expensive and sweet—clung to my shirt as she pressed her face against my chest. In the kitchen, the fridge hummed, the only other sound in the room.

“That day I went shopping with some friends. They kept talking about how good their boyfriends were, so I bought those things. I’ve already contacted the sales staff to see if I can return them. Babe, don’t be mad, okay?”

Natalie clung to my shirt. The more she pleaded, the more my heart ached. I earned all this money so the woman I love could spend it, didn’t I? Especially when I saw tears sliding down her cheeks, I felt like such a jerk. Natalie was not Rachel. I loved her.

“It’s my fault. It’s my fault, babe.”

That night, we went from the entrance to the living room, from the bedroom to the bathroom. It was the same house, but with a new mistress—even arguments seemed to make our relationship hotter.

By midnight, the only light was the glow from her phone as she curled against me, already searching for our next vacation spot. I closed my eyes, holding Natalie close, and tried to believe this was happiness. But somewhere deep down, I wasn’t sure anymore.