More Than Sorry

13: She Calls Him Drunk

It's so good to hear his voice too. He sounds like a big comfy hug. Most of the time, Zach seems to prefer watching the world go by without saying much. But sometimes, if you can find something he's passionate about, he never shuts up. I remember being curled up next to him, his deep voice soothing me to sleep as he blabbed on about hiking and kayaking for hours. Not that he ever went, though. Always too busy working.

"Eden?"

"I umm..."

Why did I call again? Oh, yeah. Revenge. That idea doesn't feel as fun anymore. I sit in dumb silence, gripping my phone so hard to stop the shaking that it feels like my fingers might snap off.

"Are you..." Zach sounds worried. "Are you okay?"

Everyone keeps asking me that. I always lie. Yeah, sure, I'm peachy. Couldn't be better. But there's no one in this tiny toilet stall to put on a brave face for, so maybe it's okay to admit the truth for once.

"No," I whisper.

"Are you safe?" My foggy brain registers that Zach suddenly sounds alert. His words are clipped, hurried. "Where are you?"

My heart drops. I'm not supposed to make anyone worry. Andie's the grumpy one, Yvette's the bubbly one, and I'm the happy one—the easy one—all smiles and sparkles. Nothing phases me. No worries here.

"Oh... I'm just here... hiding out with the bonitas at El Diablo Cantina." My voice doesn't sound as light and fun as I hoped it would. It sounds kinda... sad. "You... you... like the bonitas, right?"

There's a long, awkward pause.

"Sorry, I'm still here," Zach says softly. "The extent of my verbal prowess is limited to English, and the online translator thingie took forever." Another pause. "Eden, you know there's only one bonita for me."

"Michaela?"

"Never... It's only ever been you."

"But I..." I gulp in another breath. My nose feels itchy, and fat tears threaten my eyes. "I wasn't enough for you."

"You were always enough." The big liar sounds so sincere. "I know that night... I know how much that must have hurt to see. But I wish you would believe me. Since I met you, there was never anyone but you."

"W-why didn't you—" My throat seizes. Oh, God. I'm about to lose my shit in a toilet stall at El Diablo Cantina. This is too humiliating. I force in a shaky breath. But the more I fight it, the worse it gets. "Why d-didn't anyone—"

I want to know why he kept me a secret. I want to know why he was ashamed of me. But I can't get the words out. When my chin wobbles, I know it's too late. Hot embarrassing tears dribble down my face. I clap my hand over my mouth, but a quiet, strangled wail still escapes.

"Oh, Eden... Oh, love..." Zach's voice cracks. "Cat commercial tears or... or like the supermarket?"

"Like the supermarket..." I whisper. It's so cold in here. It's so... lonely. I draw up my knee and hug around it with my free arm, resting my cheek on the scratchy tulle of my skirt. I hiccup through the quiet sobs. "Why didn't you want anyone to know about me?"

"I want everyone to know about you," he insists gently. "I do."

"Michaela didn't know about me."

"No, she didn't."

"Have..." I gulp in another breath. "Have you told her about me now?"

There's a long pause. Zach sighs. There's another pause before he finally admits, "No."

That admission stabs right through the last of my protective armor. I squeeze my eyes shut to try to block the crushing sting to my heart, but it only makes the fat tears stream quicker down the wet trails already lining my cheeks.

"Oh." There's nothing else I can say.

"I didn't tell her about you because I don't talk to her. She's not a part of my life. She doesn't deserve to know anything about who I'm with. But if you want me to tell her, I will... In a heartbeat..." When I say nothing, he adds, "I swear Michaela's just a colleague. Nothing more."

My laugh is so sad and brittle. "That's a lie."

"It's not. She's just—"

"She's not just a colleague," I snap. "You've been inside her, Zach."

He exhales sharply. "Oh fuck... Eden... I can't change that. I would if I could..." His voice is pained. "I can't change that."

"Is she the only one?"

Silence.

Oh, God. Refusing to answer is worse than any words that could tumble out of his mouth. I'd rather hear him say there were a hundred other women than say nothing. I need to know. "There were others?"

Silence.

Oh, God. Maybe it really is a hundred. "How many women in your office have you fucked exactly?" I bite out, sitting up tall again and scrubbing away the wetness on my cheeks. "Are you like some kind of lawyer office manwhore?"

Zach's chuckle is strained. "You think I'm a manwhore?" The frustration in his voice rings out loud and clear. "This is fucking ridiculous."

I bite down hard on my lip, and fresh tears spill down my face. "I'm not ridiculous."

"I didn't say—" He stops, and I hear him take in two raspy breaths. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have taken my frustration out on you." A long, tired sigh fills in the pause. "I keep trying to protect you, but I can see now that not being honest only upsets you more."

Oh, God. "Is it a hundred?" I squeak.

"Full disclosure?"

"Ye-yeah."

He curses quietly under his breath. "Eden, I've only had sex with seven women total in my entire life. I don't even know if you can count the first one considering it was over so fucking fast. Three of the women I've been with worked at Worley—"

"Oh, I get it now. So, private lives don't exist at your firm except when you want to score."

"Eden, it's not like that—"

"It sounds exactly like that. How many of these women still work at your firm?"

"Michaela's the only one. I'm not pretending I made good choices about who I slept with before you, but I'm no manwhore. That's it. Seven. That's my whole pathetic list. Okay? Satisfied?"

"That's not pathetic..." I whisper. "Don't... don't say that."

And it's not. I'm kinda glad we're not talking in the hundreds, but I don't have any right to be upset with Zach about who he was with before we were together, no matter what the number is. I've never cared about this stuff with anyone else I've been with. History of screwing around? Have at it. You do you.

So why do I care now?

Fresh tears pop into my eyes when my mind runs out of options except for the one I don't want to face: my own insecurity. I wasn't good enough. Quiet sobs heave in my chest, and I hug down on my knees again to dull the noise. Hurt and pain swirl around inside me. The happy effects of all those drinks are a long, lost memory.

"I wish I never went to your office that night..."

Silence.

"I wish you told people about us..."

Silence.

"I wish..." His refusal to speak only makes me want to hurt him again. So, I do. "I wish we never met..."

Silence.

Agony makes me restless when the wall of silence goes on and on. Why won't he say something? Shout at me? Anything? I can't stand it. But maybe...? I ease the phone away from my ear. I break apart all over again when I look down. The screen is blank.

Zach hung up.