Tossing my bag on the bed, I dig for my phone and swipe the screen placing it to my ear. “Marley, baby, is that you?” he asks.
“It’s me.” I bite back the reply that he doesn’t have the right to call me baby. Not that it would do any good. Eli is a stubborn ass. Always has been.
“Where are you?”
“I left.”
“I know you’re not in my room or the hotel. I pulled up the cameras and saw you leaving. In nothing but my shirt,” he adds. From the tone of his voice, I imagine him clenching his jaw or maybe even grinding his teeth like he does when he’s angry. Too bad I’m too hurt by his callous words to care.
“Eli, I don’t want to talk to you.” My voice cracks. “I knew you wouldn’t stop calling until I answered.”
“Mar, you’re scaring me. Tell me what’s wrong. What happened?” There’s a desperation in his voice that I don’t understand.
“I’m fine. I’m safe, and I would appreciate it if you didn’t call my family. I just need a few days to regroup.”
“Marley, damn it, what are you talking about? Regroup from what? I don't understand. You’re talking in riddles.”
“You!” I scream into the phone. “You. I heard you, Eli. I heard you tell whoever you were talking to that I was nothing, that I mean absolutely nothing to you. You honestly expect me to just sit around and wait for you to cut me loose? Goodbye, Eli,” I say, ending the call. He’s talking, but I ignore him, tossing my phone to the bed. It rings immediately. Reaching over, I turn off the ringer, but it still vibrates. Grabbing a pillow, I place it over my face and scream as loud as I can use it as a barrier to block the noise.
Grabbing my phone to turn it off, I see a slew of text messages. I battle with myself, telling myself that I don’t need to read them, but my battered heart caves, needing to see what they say.
Eli: Marley, answer the phone.
Eli: It’s not what you think.
Eli: Baby, please talk to me.
Eli: You’re everything, Marley.
Eli: EVERYTHING!!
Eli: Please talk to me.
Eli: Let me explain what you heard.
Eli: You misunderstood. Please, Mar. Answer your phone.
Eli: Call me.
Eli: Marley, please.
My silent tears are now chest-heaving sobs as I read his messages. I know what I heard. Is it possible that he was talking about someone else? But who? If I’m the only woman in his life, who was he talking about? I’m the only one it could have been about. Unless… was he cheating on me? My stomach churns at the thought. He said we were exclusive. He insisted we have that conversation and that he wanted there to be no mistaking what we were to one another? Was that another lie?
My head spins with confusion, and my tears fall unchecked. I curl into a ball, clutching the pillow to my chest and let my tears fall. All the while, my phone is vibrating with messages and with his calls. Would he be this persistent if he was guilty? Gah! I hate this. I hate that the way he treated me when we were younger is making me question him.
I think back to our time together. He’s never been anything but attentive. At work, at his place, no matter where we are. He’s always giving me him. His attention, his time, and his affection. Now that I’ve given myself some time to process this, I know he didn’t mean it. Not about me, but then who? Who was he talking about? And if it wasn’t me, which I don’t think it could be—he’s not that good of an actor—then what is he keeping from me?
When my phone rings again, I grab it and see our smiling faces staring back at me. I know I need to face this and talk to him. I feel like I can after my crying session. I’m just about ready to answer when the phone stops ringing. It’s after three in the morning. Staring at our smiling faces, I realize that this isn’t me. I’ve never been one to run. This time though, my heart was breaking and I needed a minute. It’s time for face this. I need to do it now, so we can figure this out. Taking a deep breath, I hit his name and place the phone to my ear.
“I love you.” Those are the first words out of his mouth. “I don’t want to fucking tell you like this, but my chest is cracked open, and I’m bleeding without you. Those words, I meant them, but they were not meant for you. And by that, I mean I was talking about someone else. Fuck,” he mutters. “Can I come to you? I don’t care where you are. I’ll come to you. I need to see you. I need to wrap my arms around you, and then I’ll tell you. I promise. It’s not at all what you’re thinking. There is no one else in my life but you. You’re the only one I want. The only one I see, the only one I think about. Please, Mar, let me come to you.”