Well, that wasn't how I expected things to go. I figured that I would be the one to storm out in a fit, that he would be the one who needed to apologize. He does, he should have told me, but I'm not completely blameless in this either.
He's totally right; I still think that he will leave me at a moment's notice. But it's not anything that he is doing or saying, it's all in my head. I think. I still don't feel like I deserve him, that I deserve this happiness or adventure that he brings into my life, so it would make sense for him to have someone else in his life. Except he doesn't, I believe him when he says it.
But fuck, I hate that bitch. Whoever she is, she's a bitch. I imagine her being some leggy blonde who has a long history with Rhodes, maybe back in the old days when he was less uptight and formal. The vision in my mind of a younger Rhodes running around New York with his friends makes me ache for all the stories he's never told me; they must be incredible.
He just needs to cool off, I should let him, but I also want to take off my makeup. I venture quietly up the stairs and find the door to his bedroom is still wide open, probably not the one he's stormed into. Nevertheless, I still creep up to the doorway and pop my head in just inside the door frame to check that the coast is clear. When I determine that it is, I quickly unzip my dress, hang it back up in the closet, and slip into the Fleetwood Mac shirt that Rhodes always allows me to use when I'm here. Even though I've worn it on a number of occasions, I can still get a small hint of his cologne on the collar. It was my loyal companion while he was in New York; I'd allow my mind to trick me into thinking he was beside me using this shirt. And now to think he's in God knows what room of this massive apartment, thinking that I think he's a liar.
I shake my head as I head to the bathroom to wash my face. I have to find him and talk to him about this. Once my face is washed and patted dry, I set off to try and find him.
There are quite a few spare rooms in the apartment, ones I've never even bothered to go into before. But all the doors that I pass are open, and none have Rhodes in them. I round the corridor and find the light in his study is on, and the door is open. If he did slam it shut, maybe he opened it back up again? Maybe he doesn't want to shut me out after all.
Sure enough, as I approach the doorway, Rhodes is standing inside hovering over his desk. He's taken off his jacket and tie, leaving him in just his white button-up and black trousers. A small lamp on the table lights up a series of papers he appears to be examining. He's working at nearly midnight. I lean against the open door frame and watch him for a moment. His brows are furrowed as he flips through the papers. They look like they're sketches, probably the new Shanghai hotel. Eventually, his gaze hovers over to me and lands first on my face, then on my T-shirt. Relief floods through me as a soft smile spreads across his face.
"You do love that shirt, don't you?" his voice is soft but endearing. I shrug my shoulders and play with the hem of the shirt that hangs around the middle of my thighs.