31. Sunny #2
He sighs and rubs his forehead with the heel of his hand.
“They made another associate second chair for this new client’s case—the one I helped reel in.
Can you fucking believe that? After all the goddamn work I put in, they give it to that fucker, Mike.
” He rolls his eyes, then mutters under his breath.
“Went to Harvard Law and thinks he’s better than everyone else. ”
Good lord, I hate when he gets like this.
My stomach clenches as I wonder what I can possibly say to help him feel better. Then it occurs to me that Mike has been at the firm a hell of a lot longer than Jeremy has.
“I’m really sorry, babe. But…Mike’s a senior associate, right? About to make partner? Maybe they weren’t even considering younger associates for this case.”
Jeremy glares at me. “They’ll pick whoever they think will do the best job, Sunny.”
My pulse quickens.
“It has nothing to do with seniority,” he continues, shaking his head.
“We were in a meeting with the client this morning, and my tone was a little… gruff …according to the partner. I was trying to explain that if we don’t file a motion to exclude expert testimony before trial, we’re gonna get fucked later—and apparently that didn’t go over well. ”
I guess I’m not the only one Jeremy’s been gruff with lately.
“Well…you have been a little tense these days,” I say, shifting to kneel behind him on the bed. I begin to rub his shoulders. “Maybe this will help.”
Jeremy exhales deeply. “Now I feel like I have to watch every word I say so they don’t fucking fire me.”
“They’re not going to fire you, babe,” I say as I continue to knead the tight muscles in his back.
“You are such an asset to the firm. You’re a brilliant litigator—not to mention they’ve practically had you on a pedestal since you helped snag this new client.
I really don’t think you have to worry about your job security. ”
He smirks. “Thanks—but I don’t need advice on how to keep my job from the associate who’s first to leave the office every day.”
My fingers freeze over his shoulder blades for a few seconds before I drop my hands to my sides. “That was harsh. I’m trying to help you feel better, and you’re attacking me?”
He turns to face me. “You weren’t trying to make me feel better, Sunny. You were trying to get laid. Since when do you give massages anyway? All you want from me these days is sex.”
My heart is hammering. “You can’t be serious. I give my fiancé a back rub because he’s stressed, and now I’m a sex fiend?”
His gaze is steely. “You’re being needy. And it’s not a good look on you.”
I blink back tears. “Are you fucking kidding me? This coming from the guy who—until recently—had his hands all over me every morning while I was still dreaming? Who treated me like his daily dose of caffeine, without a second thought about whether I needed more sleep?”
He scoffs. Then he stands and starts pacing the room. “You love the way I wake you up, Sunny. You tell me all the time that it’s your favorite goddamn part of the day?—”
“Yeah, well, maybe I would like to be the one in charge of when I wake up for once. You take my body when you want it…and you make me yours…and I used to think it was so hot. But now I see it for what it really is. It’s selfish.”
He drags his hand through his hair. “That’s bullshit, and you know it. On the days I go into the office early, you’re always telling me how much you missed me. You don’t really miss me , Sunny—you miss getting fucked.”
Tears roll down my cheeks. “Yeah, you know why? Because sex is the only time I feel connected to you, Jeremy!” I grab tissues from the nightstand and wipe my eyes.
“Why do you do this to me? One minute you look at me like I’m the only woman in the world who matters, and the next…
you make me feel like shit about myself.
Your mood swings are giving me whiplash. ”
Jeremy closes his eyes and squeezes the bridge of his nose. Then he finds his dress shirt, slung over the back of a chair. “I’m going out,” he says, jamming his arms into the sleeves.
He leaves the room and, a minute later, the front door slams shut.
This is the bed I made for myself—and now I’m lying in it. Alone, and devastated.
I think back to the way things were at the beginning.
Witty banter, and great sex, and the lovestruck look in Jeremy’s eyes that made me feel safer than I’d ever felt before.
But where’s that sense of safety now, when he’s hot and cold, and pulls the rug out from under me whenever the hell he feels like it?
Is safety knowing for a fact that he’ll come home drunk tonight, and say he’s sorry, because it’s what he always does? Or is it his insistence that I’m the only person who understands him…the only one who could match his wit and intelligence…and we were tailor-made for each other?
Maybe it’s the three-carat diamond ring on my nightstand, and the promise it represents. But what fucking promise is that, exactly? A vow to stay true in sickness and in health? Or a vow to keep me walking on eggshells for all eternity?
Dex would never treat me this way. And yet…
I broke up with him.
The front door opens and shuts. I glance at the clock. It’s 2:00 a.m.
Jeremy walks into the room, takes off his clothes, and crawls into bed with me. His eyes glisten in the darkness. “I’m so sorry, babe,” he whispers, stroking my hair.
A tear falls from his cheek and I wipe it away with my thumb.
When he kisses me, he tastes like whiskey. “I’m so sorry,” he whispers again.
In between every kiss, he apologizes, and cries, and tells me how much he loves me. Just like he always does. And I come to the same conclusion I always do after a night like this:
I let go of the love of my life. And I chose this man. If this relationship doesn’t work, then nothing in my life makes sense. So I forgive him.
Again.