That one hit me like a punch in the stomach. “You can trust me.”
“No. I can’t. I don’t know why I thought I could. I must have been crazy.” She looked around and spied her sweatshirt on the floor. Scooping it up, she yanked it on. “Get out of that bed. We’re leaving.”
“But I want to talk about this. Please?”
“Not a chance, Gianni.” She spoke through clenched teeth. “All you do is lie. It’s very clear to me now what this was to you—a game, just like everything else. A big scam to get me in bed.”
“You’re wrong!” I got out of bed and went over to her, taking her by the arm.
“Am I?” She wrenched her arm free and blinked at me. “Let’s see. You hid the truth about Fiona’s offer. About your TV show. You faked a dead car to trap me here another night. Jesus, was everything you said to me in here a bunch of bullshit?”
“No! Everything I told you was true.”
“And why should I believe that?” She put her hands in her hair. “God, I’m such an idiot!”
“You’re not—will you please hear me out?” I followed her around the room as she limped around gathering her clothes and tugging them on—underwear, pants, socks. “I only lied about the car to have one more night alone with you.”
“Well, there’s something we agree on—you’re a liar.”
“But it wasn’t just to have sex! I honestly wanted you to myself for another night. Being with you was the most fun I’ve ever had with anyone!”
“Too bad it was all bullshit,” she snapped, shoving things in her bag. “Just one more example of Gianni Lupo treating the world like his playground. You probably arranged the blizzard too. Winked and smiled at Mother Nature, and she gave into you like every other girl does.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. I just sent a text to God. He’s a fan of Lick My Plate.”
She stopped moving and glared at me with daggers in her eyes.
“Okay, not the right time for a joke. Sorry.” I rubbed the back of my neck. “But Ellie, I promise I didn’t do this to fuck with you. I did it because I wanted to be with you.”
“You can stop talking, Gianni. I’ll never believe another word you say.” She was eerily calm as she crossed in front of me on her way to the bathroom. “Get dressed. I want to leave in the next five minutes.”
Then the bathroom door slammed shut.
I sank onto the bed and dropped my head into my hands. What the actual fuck was I doing? Why had I confessed? All I had to do was go outside and pretend the car started this morning. Maybe she’d have been a little suspicious, but she’d probably have been so glad we didn’t have to wait for a tow truck, her joy would have overshadowed her doubt.
Now she hated me again.
I fell onto my back and threw an arm over my eyes. This sucked. Usually, I ducked out of relationships before the other person involved really cared, and I was always careful not to mess around with anyone I worked with. It was too awkward seeing them in the kitchen the next day, and that was a space where I wanted a clear head, the respect of the staff, and positive energy. By telling Ellie what I’d done, I’d not only made things awkward between us, I’d ruined our friendship and polluted our working relationship.
Exhaling, I hauled myself to my feet and scrounged through my bag for some clothes to throw on—underwear, jeans, T-shirt, sweater. As I pulled it over my head, I remembered how she’d looked in it, how she’d worn it with nothing underneath, how I’d chased her around the room and pinned her beneath me and eventually tore the sweater right off her.
I pulled the collar over my nose and mouth, hoping it still smelled like her, but it didn’t.
Slowly, I pulled on my coat, boots, hat and gloves, grabbed the keys from my pocket, and went outside to dig my undead car from its snowy grave.
The ride back to Abelard was long, tense, and silent. The storm was over now. The sky was blue and the sun was shining, although the temperature was close to zero, with a windchill of eighteen below.
But that was nothing compared to the arctic air in the front seat of my car, where Ellie sat bundled up in the passenger seat with her knees pressed together, her arms folded over her chest, and her face turned toward the window.
A few times, I tried talking to her. Results varied.
“Ellie. Can we talk about it?”
Stone cold silence.
“I’m really sorry about everything. I shouldn’t have done what I did.”