Free Ruin Me by Cara McKenna Page B

comes over to me, puts his hands on my shoulders and stares me straight in the eyes.
    “I know you’re not supposed to be here.”
    I shake my head.
    “If you get home and all hell breaks loose, you can always come back here to stay. But if he takes it okay, I think maybe we shouldn’t talk until we’ve both had a week or more away from each other.”
    “That’s probably wise,” I say.
    “I shouldn’t have come by your work, just like you shouldn’t have come here. So let’s not talk until at least next weekend. Why don’t you call me if you see fit? Or don’t call if you think that’s better.”
    I nod. He lets me give him a quick hug and a kiss on his stubbly jaw. He walks me to the door and holds it open.
    “Have a nice holiday,” he says.
    “You too. Happy Thanksgiving.”

Chapter Five
     
    I feel near to vomiting as I turn the knob to the side door of the house. I’m not afraid of Jay’s anger, but I’m shaking, petrified of the pain I might see on his face. I checked my phone in the car before I left Patrick’s and he’d called three times. Two messages.
    “Hey, lady. It’s six forty. Did you go to Italy to get that olive oil?” Shit. I forgot about that.
    Then, “It’s almost seven. Give me a call so I know everything’s okay.”
    I push the door in and there he is. Jay. Jeans and a button-up sweater. Jay’s one of those rare, slender, modern men who can make a cardigan seem hip. He’s stirring pasta sauce in a pan by the stove, looking as though it’s all he’s done in the last hour. He must have heard the car when I pulled in. The fact that he doesn’t stop stirring to hug me says he came to the right conclusion about my whereabouts.
    “Hey, you.” Still stirring. “Where have you been?”
    I had the whole drive to think up a lie and I think it’s some meager sign of redemption that I didn’t. I meet his eyes. “I’m sorry. I stopped by Patrick’s on the way home.” “Stopped by” in this case meaning I drove clear to the far side of town.
    Jay’s expression goes blank. “Oh,” he says, and keeps on stirring.
    I shrug my coat off, sure that I’m sending a huge cloud of enemy-male scent wafting in his direction.
    “I’m sorry,” I say. “I should have called. And I forgot the oil.”
    His hazel eyes look grayish-yellow tonight and distrustful. “I see.”
    I’m not sure what else I can say. I’m very good at admitting when I’m wrong but this isn’t like stranding Jay with inadequate toilet paper or shrinking his sweater. There’s nothing I can offer that will fully express how far off the deep end of wrong I’ve plunged.
    “Did you guys…” He trails off.
    I shake my head. “Nothing you said we couldn’t.” If barely. “But I should have called to ask. I don’t know what to say. I did it without thinking.”
    “You knew I’d be here, waiting and making dinner. Expecting you.”
    “I know.”
    He looks down, at my knees or something behind me. “That’s pretty shitty, Robin. I’m pretty fucking pissed.” You have to really know Jay to spot the signs that back this statement up. I know all of them. His ears are pink and there are tight lines beside his lips. His voice sounds flat. His eyes look dull and they won’t meet mine anymore.
    “Would you like me to leave or go in a different room?” I realize I’m wringing my hands and will them to be still.
    “Dinner’s ready,” he says. “Why don’t you eat in here and I’ll take mine in and watch the game.”
    “Okay.”
    “I don’t really want to talk to you right now, but I’ll let you know when I do.”
    “What do you think about tomorrow? Should we still go?”
    Suddenly, Jay laughs. Not a big laugh, but a genuine one. “I’m not going to break up with you, Robin. We’re still getting up at five and driving to Michigan. If I’m still pissed, it could be a long-ass thirteen hours.”
    “Okay.” I want to hug him so badly. It’s strange how only a half-hour ago Patrick felt