“Then I guess we better eat.”
The only thing I wanted to eat was her. Pushing apart her legs, I thrust my fingers inside her panties. She stiffened, pressing her legs together as she forced my hand out. “I’m, uh, kind of really hungry.”
Wow. Shot down. Maybe I was losing my touch.
“Then I guess we’d better eat,” I replied with a little too much enthusiasm. Just like that, the mood completely changed; things between us felt awkward and strange.
“Can I help?” she asked, eyeing me.
“There is a bottle of wine in the fridge you can open,” I said. I took the tray of lasagna from the oven and sat it on the stove.
"Shit!"
>
I looked over at Beth. Blood dripped from her hand onto the white tiles. Grabbing a handful of paper towels, I pressed them onto the palm of her hand and closed her fingers into a fist around it.
"What have you done?" I said, stroking her cheek.
She shook her head. "I was trying to get the damn top off the wine."
I looked over at the bottle of unopened wine. The top looked as though it'd been hacked with a box cutter. I swallowed a laugh. She was in a foul mood as it was, and me finding this funny wasn’t going to help things.
I lifted the paper towel carefully to survey the damage. The tiny cut looked worse than it actually was, considering the amount of blood that had come out of it. I grabbed a handful of fresh paper towels and ran it under the water. I gently washed away the blood.
"I don't think I have any Band-Aids," I said apologetically.
She smiled. "In my bag, there is a pocket inside. You'll find some in there."
I was impressed. "You're prepared."
"No," she laughed. "Just clumsy. And wearing heels, trust me, Band-Aids are a necessity."
I walked over to her bag and found the Band-Aids in the pocket, just as she’d described.
Something caught my eye. Though I couldn't see much of it, I could clearly make out the title of the pamphlet shoved inside of her bag.
Sexual Assault.
Oh, God, no. Fuck. My heart raced as random moments popped into my head. The signs, they'd all been there. The changes in her behavior, her issues with intimacy. Even her drinking and all night partying should've alerted me that something was seriously wrong.
How could I have missed this?
"No luck?"
Shit—the Band-Aids. I closed her bag and walked back over, holding up what looked to be Dora the Explorer Band-Aids.
"They were the only ones I could find," she said defensively.
"Sure," I teased. What was I supposed to do now? Did I mention what I'd seen? Did I wait for her to bring it up? If I was waiting for her, I could be waiting forever. But the last thing I wanted to do was push her away.
I carefully positioned the Band-Aid over the cut.
"There. All fixed."
"Thanks." She grinned, throwing the paper towels into the trash. "Dinner smells nice."
"Why don't you sit down while I finish this?" I took the wine and opened it, pouring it into two glasses. Sliding hers across the kitchen counter, I caught her eye. A surge of anger rushed through me. What had happened to her? Had it been recent? I wanted to hold her in my arms and tell her everything would be fine, but she'd made it clear she didn’t need fixing. I had no idea what to do here.