Chapter two
My partner looked up as I entered the room. He'd gotten to work before me today. He opened his mouth to say something, then closed it. He gave me another, longer look.
"Hey, Cole, you think maybe you should eat something?" he asked gently.
I should've known my partner would immediately be able to tell something was wrong.
"I did eat," I said. I had to think. My mind slid back over the awful morning—a continuation of the argument we'd had last night—and couldn't actually place any food consumption in there anywhere. "Well, I had coffee." I was at least sure of that.
He got up smoothly, grabbed his jacket off the back of his chair, and swung it over one shoulder.
"Let's go to the diner real quick. I realized I'm actually really hungry today.
" He had special permission to leave for food at any point, so he was putting it like that, to make it about him and not me, in case anyone had any questions later.
I gave him a look that tried to be stern, but I think I only managed to look vague.
He put a hand on my arm and gently steered me back the way I'd come.
It was a short drive to the local diner we often frequented.
I stared out the window at nothing and let the world blur by.
He got me inside, and found us a booth, and ordered for both of us.
I should have roused myself enough to order for myself, I guess, but I couldn't seem to care enough to bother. Besides, he knew what I liked.
Halfway through some very crispy bacon and very tender eggs, I looked up and noticed he was watching me.
"I see the lights have turned on." He gave me a look that was somehow scolding and tender at the same time. "You want to tell me what's up?"
I thought about it. "Not really. This is good, though. Thanks."
He gave a small, satisfied nod. "It is good. I guess it's about Darby, then."
"Yeah," I admitted. I braced myself for some unwelcome advice. I mean, I read enough advice about relationships online. You'd think I wouldn't mind getting some aimed at me. Or maybe that I'd even welcome it. But that certainly didn't feel like the case.
I braced myself, but he said nothing, just went back to his own food. I guess he really was hungry, too. Or else he was just eating to keep me company.
After the meal, I felt a lot better. The problems with Darby would keep. Or else they wouldn't keep, and one of us would decide it was time to break up. Soon, probably. I very much doubted we'd be able to have a mature conversation about it and decide together we just weren't right for each other.
The thing is, on paper, we really worked.
We liked a lot of the same things. We were the same age and our goals matched up.
Neither one of us wanted kids, but we did want to buy a house in the next five years.
It was the same in other areas: we lined up pretty well politically, neither one of us was religious, and we both wanted to travel.
We even looked good together in pictures.
It was just that apparently we couldn't go one day without arguing about something at this point, and I was starting to feel trapped and suffocated. God knows she was feeling a lot of things too—she told me about them, at length.
We headed back to the precinct, and I tried to pack all of this away. It could wait. It would have to. We had work to do.
#
"You're wearing that?" Darby looked at my outfit like it had a weird smell.
"I was going to. Why? You've got a better idea?" I was trying to answer carefully and not take offense.
She rolled her eyes. "I'm not going to dress you. You're a grown man. Just look presentable, would you?"
I looked down at my clothing, wondering what wasn't presentable. Bitterness rose in me, like a sour taste. I wouldn't tell her to change without giving her an idea of what was wrong. She'd basically just gone 'ew, you're gross,' without telling me why or how to fix it. Sooo nice.
I debated getting into it, telling her how hurtful her tone was.
I debated telling her to change into something better so she could see how it felt.
I felt so tired all the sudden. I went to the closet to try to find something else.
I wondered if I'd hear about it either way—if there was a right answer at all, and how much it was even worth it to try.
#
"You alone?" A coworker leaned around the corner, scanning the area. He relaxed when he saw Arlie wasn't here.
"What's up?" I got alert. Why should I be alone to hear whatever it was?
"His birthday's next week, right? We gotta plan a cake or something. C'mon." He motioned me after him, and I hurried to follow, relieved this was the reason. I must've been starting to get tensed up, wondering if there was some other reason. Something bad.
Not that I'd noticed anyone not liking Arlie.
He seemed to get along with everyone pretty well.
He had a calm presence and was good with people.
My partner was bigger and taller than me, with a sturdy build, a broad face, and kind eyes.
People tended to like him, and he had an open, welcoming air about him.
He wasn't exactly handsome, but there was something appealing about his face.
I was glad the precinct liked him well enough to want to celebrate his birthday. It wasn't something we did all the time, so they must really like him.
My coworkers and I discussed it briefly in a hurried, mini meeting, and were nearly done when there was a light knock at the door. "Cole? You in there?" Arlie's voice was tentative.
I hurried to the door and opened it to smile at my partner. How much had he heard? I didn't think we'd said anything incriminating just then, but I wasn't sure, and he had good hearing.
"Hey." I smiled at him. I wanted to hug him and get that self-conscious, uneasy look off his face. "It's all good, big guy. What's up?"
"Uh, we're supposed to go check something out. I couldn't find you."
"Just text me if you need to. I'm not going anywhere."
We headed out, but the uneasy, self-conscious look stayed on his face. "Is everything okay?"
"I don't know," he said slowly. "Someone tried to tell me you weren't over there, but I knew you'd gone that way. It was strange, like they didn't want me to find you. Do you think they're annoyed with me or something?"
"No, everyone likes you," I told him. I debated. And then gave in. Sure, it would spoil the surprise—but that might be for the best. Arlie didn't always do well with surprises. He needed to be warned.
"They're planning a birthday celebration for you—just a cake and a few snacks, maybe singing happy birthday if you're unlucky. It's supposed to be a secret, so pretend to be surprised, okay?"
"Oh." His face relaxed into one of his sweet, warm smiles. His fingers flexed and unflexed on the steering wheel. "Oh, wow. Thank you. That's so nice."
I found myself staring at his hands, not sure why. He had such strong-looking hands, powerful fingers, perfectly formed hands, the hands of someone who'd worked hard. Very masculine hands.
"I hope you're okay with chocolate cake," I told him, at last making myself stop staring.
"I'll like whatever they pick. That's so nice! Wow."
"Yeah, well, everyone likes you," I told him. "You're a calm, nice guy that nobody has a problem with."
"Not everyone likes me," said my partner, sounding slightly amused.
"Who? You fit in with your new pack almost instantly. The precinct is already nuts about you if they're planning a birthday surprise—they don't do that for just anyone. Even suspects and perps tend to like you."
He ducked his head a little, trying not to look embarrassed. "That's very nice. I was thinking of Darby—she's not exactly fond of me. But you're right, a lot of people are, and I appreciate being accepted so readily. People have been really nice here."
I didn't know what to say after that. It was true: Darby had been cold to my partner since she first met him.
She looked down on Arlie, seemed to find him irritating for no good reason.
Was it just because he and I got along so well?
She couldn't be jealous of that, could she?
That seemed pretty odd, but she did get jealous over the oddest things.
She'd been mad at me one whole month because I was playing video games more than she'd liked.
And I wasn't exactly an obsessive gamer.
She had a point, though. There wasn't really room in my life for hobbies right now.
I sort of let her win that argument just by being worn down about it, and finding it easier to stop doing the things I liked rather than fight about it.
They were just games, after all, but I did miss it.
Sometimes a lot. Maybe if my life ever got less busy, I could get back to it.
I had the sinking feeling my life would never be less chaotic if Darby stayed my girlfriend. I thought of the long years ahead, waiting for me, waiting for us to take the next steps, the logical relationship steps: buy a house, get married, head lockstep down the road of hetero bliss.
It felt like being strangled, slowly choking to death.
A slow, sad realization rose in me. This wasn't fair to either of us. If she hated me, she shouldn't spend her life with me. And if I resented her and felt dread about spending the rest of my life with her, I shouldn't be with her.
We were going to have to break up. No matter how uncomfortable it was. I'd really, really wanted to make this work, and be the guy I thought I could be.
I wasn't going to be able to fix this, and I wasn't going to be able to handle going on and on and on the way things were.
I needed to get out—I needed to be single. And, I realized, I didn't even want to 'stay friends.' I wasn't sure we'd ever actually been friends, anyway. We certainly wouldn't be when I told her it was over, I was done.
I wondered how soon I'd be able to get up the nerve to have that conversation, and how long I should put it off. I should wait at least a week, right? I didn't want to spoil Arlie's birthday.
Even as I thought that, I knew it was just an excuse.
I was just dreading this. I needed to get all my ducks in a row, though.
We hadn't combined our finances, so that should be okay, but we did live together, and had the apartment in both of our names.
I also had a lot of things there that I'd rather she didn't break.
It would be nice to get at least some of them out before I gave her the news we were over. Just in case.