All the times the lights had been left on and the music had been left blaring all night long.
And, last but not least, I finally realized that maybe I really had always trusted Quarry Page, no matter what I’d told myself. I’d been hiding my feelings and guarding myself my entire life. I shouldn’t have given my heart to Quarry the boy. But, without question, I was ready to give it back to the man.
And then I promptly had a panic attack.
But, when that was over, I threw the covers back, got dressed, and set out to the gym to watch my sexy boxer work out before officially introducing him to my father as my boyfriend.
The gym was still dark when I pulled up. I drove around to the back parking lot only to find it vacant. My watch read six a.m. Even if he had stopped to grab some breakfast instead of his usual protein shake at the gym, he should have been there. I snagged my phone off the passenger’s seat and sent him a quick text.
Me: Where ya at?
His reply came almost immediately.
Quarry: I’m about to get in the ring… You okay?
I got out of my car and checked up and down the street. His Porsche was pretty hard to miss though, and as suspected, I came up empty.
I racked my brain, trying to remember if there was possibly anywhere else he could have been getting in the ring, but like before, I came up empty again.
Me: I’m fine. Are you at the gym?
Quarry: Yeah, babe. You need something? I need to get my gloves on.
My heart sank, and the backs of my eyes stung.
But my fingers didn’t move to type my reply. I could only blink at the screen.
I reread his message a dozen times, and each time I typed a different response. Some were concerned. Some were snarky. And, admittedly, some were even jealous.
I deleted them all.
This was Quarry. He didn’t lie to me.
Me: What gym?
Quarry: My gym. Do you NEED something? I have to go.
My nose burned, and my stomach wrenched. I was so confused that I didn’t even know what conclusion to jump to. And, God, did I want to jump to some conclusions. My mind raced with a million different scenarios. Some good, like maybe he was planning another over-the-top date for us. Some bad, like he was having an early morning breakfast with one of his random girls he’d sleep with after fights. Some really bad, like maybe he was having second thoughts about us and needed some time alone to figure out a way to let me down easy.
It had to be something big though. Quarry Page was a lot of things, but he wasn’t a liar. I decided not to beat around the bush.
Me: Yes. I need to know why the hell you’re lying to me.
Quarry: About what?
I laughed, not finding one single solitary thing funny. Quickly losing my patience with the entire exchange, I clicked out of my messages and dialed his number. My anxiety was climbing rapidly in expectation of a straight answer.
Panic hit me like a brick wall when I got his voicemail.
My phone pinged in my hand almost immediately.
Quarry: Text. I don’t have my hearing aids in. I’m about to get in the ring!
I was already clinging by a thread to sanity, but that damn exclamation point pushed me right over the edge. Clenching my teeth, I quickly typed another message.
I should have deleted it.
I hit send.
Me: You fucking liar!
Quarry: Excuse me?
Me: You have two seconds to tell me the truth.
Quarry: About what? And for the record, you call me a fucking liar again, I’m turning my goddamn phone off.
Yeah, that just infuriated me even more. He was lying to me. He didn’t get to make the threats.
Me: Wow! Wouldn’t that be convenient for you? You know, FOR THE RECORD, you jump out of bed with me, lie to me about where you are, and then threaten to turn your phone off…a girl can get certain ideas.
Quarry: Oh yeah, Rocky? What the fuck kinda ideas you getting?
Me: Tell me where you are?
Quarry: No, I’d really rather hear about these ideas. Because it sounds a hell of a lot like you’re accusing me of something.
Me: Where are you?
Quarry: I was supposed to be getting into the ring, but now I’m standing here fighting with my girl like a *-whipped punk.
My hands were shaking, and I was fighting back tears. Quarry and I didn’t fight. We bickered. We made fun of each other. I rolled my eyes at him. I made fun of him. He laughed at me. This entire exchange was not how we communicated. It was different, and not in a good way.
Me: Look at us. You promised me we wouldn’t change. You PROMISED me.
I was typing another message to tell him that I was at On The Ropes when his incoming FaceTime lit my phone up.
“What’s going on?” he asked before the picture came into view. His voice was stilted, but not angry.
I turned the phone to the On The Ropes sign as my answer.
When I looked back at the screen, he was sporting an endearing grin. “Ah, well, I’m not at that gym, Rocky.” He lifted his phone and did a quick spin, showing a small gym barely big enough to hold a ring and a few hanging bags.
“I can see that,” I signed with one hand.