you see? The more I had, the more I wanted. I was a gerbil on a tiny little wheel. I kept going faster and faster, but I never ended up anywhere real. It was all an illusion.”
“Did you, um, mention this to Raj or Kate? Or to Dale?” I asked, already knowing the answer.
“Of course,” he said. “I want everyone to know. If I can save one person from making the mistakes I did …”
I can handle this, I thought, already snapping into crisis mode. This was nothing compared to a temperamental soprano with a fake sore throat. Michael might be out of commission for a day or two, but then he’d become himself again. He’d had a hell of a scare, on top of everything else, and we couldn’t expect him to act normally. My mind spun with plans: I’d tell Raj and Kate to take charge of the office. I’d stay in the hospital and keep everyone away from Michael.
“There’s so much I need to say to you,” he said.
I braced myself for more gibberish about peace and a white light. Peace, by the way, which could come from a little orange pill called Xanax, and a white light which could easily be explained by hitting one’s head.
But his next words shocked me.
“Julia, I’m so sorry I was going to skip your birthday dinner. How many of our anniversaries did I miss because I was traveling?”
His hands tightened around mine. “But the worst thing I did was not rush home from Los Angeles … I can’t believe I stayed around for a stupid fucking meeting the next morning even though—”
I cut him off. “Michael, why are you talking about this now?”
“I wasn’t there for you when you needed me the most,” he said. “I can’t tell you how much I regret that.”
Tears filled my eyes, like no time at all had elapsed since that black hole of a night. This wasn’t fair; I felt blindsided. Michael and I didn’t talk about this stuff, not ever .
“I want to make it up to you,” he said softly. “All of it.”
“Michael.” I forced back my tears and kept my voice firm. “We’ve moved on. It was a long time ago.”
“I know, but we haven’t moved on,” he said.
This was too much; Michael was overwhelming me. How dare he bring up the pain in our past—in my past, really, since he hadn’t ever seemed to be affected by it?
“I need something to drink,” I said, yanking my hand away from his. “I’m going to the cafeteria.”
An old, buried anger burned through me as I rushed toward the door, erasing the protective instincts I’d felt for Michael.
“Wait,” he said, struggling to a sitting position. I heard an alarm sounding from a monitor by his bed, but I ignored him. “There’s something important I have to tell you—”
I let the door swing closed, cutting off the rest of his words. Let him spout off about understanding and peace like some bearded guy in a toga who handed out daisies at the airport. Let him deal with the fallout, which would probably be a blind item in the Reliable Source gossip column in the Washington Post . We’d made it there twice before—when Michael became a co-owner of the Blazes and held a party that brought Shaquille O’Neal to town, and again when we bought our house. Real estate transactions weren’t normally considered sexy, but it was a slow news week, and our $9 million house probably inspired the same awe in others that it had in us. The two-paragraph item detailed the hand-painted fresco on the ceiling of our library, and the twenty-seat home movie theater, and the steam room in the home gym.
I could imagine the headline this time: DELUSIONAL MOGUL COMPARES SELF TO GERBIL .
For some reason, Dale’s grinning face appeared in my mind. Raj and Kate would keep this quiet, but I wouldn’t put it past Dale to plant the item himself.
I pushed the elevator button and rode down to the cafeteria, forcing myself to nod at the middle-aged woman who was riding along with me.
“Beautiful day,” she said cheerily.
Sure, I thought, if your husband isn’t
“Did you, um, mention this to Raj or Kate? Or to Dale?” I asked, already knowing the answer.
“Of course,” he said. “I want everyone to know. If I can save one person from making the mistakes I did …”
I can handle this, I thought, already snapping into crisis mode. This was nothing compared to a temperamental soprano with a fake sore throat. Michael might be out of commission for a day or two, but then he’d become himself again. He’d had a hell of a scare, on top of everything else, and we couldn’t expect him to act normally. My mind spun with plans: I’d tell Raj and Kate to take charge of the office. I’d stay in the hospital and keep everyone away from Michael.
“There’s so much I need to say to you,” he said.
I braced myself for more gibberish about peace and a white light. Peace, by the way, which could come from a little orange pill called Xanax, and a white light which could easily be explained by hitting one’s head.
But his next words shocked me.
“Julia, I’m so sorry I was going to skip your birthday dinner. How many of our anniversaries did I miss because I was traveling?”
His hands tightened around mine. “But the worst thing I did was not rush home from Los Angeles … I can’t believe I stayed around for a stupid fucking meeting the next morning even though—”
I cut him off. “Michael, why are you talking about this now?”
“I wasn’t there for you when you needed me the most,” he said. “I can’t tell you how much I regret that.”
Tears filled my eyes, like no time at all had elapsed since that black hole of a night. This wasn’t fair; I felt blindsided. Michael and I didn’t talk about this stuff, not ever .
“I want to make it up to you,” he said softly. “All of it.”
“Michael.” I forced back my tears and kept my voice firm. “We’ve moved on. It was a long time ago.”
“I know, but we haven’t moved on,” he said.
This was too much; Michael was overwhelming me. How dare he bring up the pain in our past—in my past, really, since he hadn’t ever seemed to be affected by it?
“I need something to drink,” I said, yanking my hand away from his. “I’m going to the cafeteria.”
An old, buried anger burned through me as I rushed toward the door, erasing the protective instincts I’d felt for Michael.
“Wait,” he said, struggling to a sitting position. I heard an alarm sounding from a monitor by his bed, but I ignored him. “There’s something important I have to tell you—”
I let the door swing closed, cutting off the rest of his words. Let him spout off about understanding and peace like some bearded guy in a toga who handed out daisies at the airport. Let him deal with the fallout, which would probably be a blind item in the Reliable Source gossip column in the Washington Post . We’d made it there twice before—when Michael became a co-owner of the Blazes and held a party that brought Shaquille O’Neal to town, and again when we bought our house. Real estate transactions weren’t normally considered sexy, but it was a slow news week, and our $9 million house probably inspired the same awe in others that it had in us. The two-paragraph item detailed the hand-painted fresco on the ceiling of our library, and the twenty-seat home movie theater, and the steam room in the home gym.
I could imagine the headline this time: DELUSIONAL MOGUL COMPARES SELF TO GERBIL .
For some reason, Dale’s grinning face appeared in my mind. Raj and Kate would keep this quiet, but I wouldn’t put it past Dale to plant the item himself.
I pushed the elevator button and rode down to the cafeteria, forcing myself to nod at the middle-aged woman who was riding along with me.
“Beautiful day,” she said cheerily.
Sure, I thought, if your husband isn’t
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