Urban Cowgirl 2.2G

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“Don’t even look at me,” I snap at Peter. He’s taken aback by my greeting as if he can’t fathom why I’d possibly be angry with him.

“I think we should talk,” he says.

“I disagree. You have nothing to say that I want to hear,” I dismiss him.

“Wait a goddamned minute.” He storms over to me. He has his mouth open, ready to spew more shit, but he stops. “God, you reek. What the hell did you do last night?”

“What’s it to you?” I shrug away from him.

“You’re my girlfriend.” Peter uses the soft voice he always uses when he’s trying to win me over. It won’t work this time. “I have a right to know where you’ve been when you disappear for an entire night.”

“It’s hilarious that you still think you’re my boyfriend after what you just pulled.” I laugh. I can tell Peter didn’t appreciate that. His eyes fill with anger.

“I bet you spent hours at some disgusting dive bar pawing at any man stupid enough to look twice at you,” Peter sneers.

“You do not get to talk to me that way after what you did.” I shove past him, determined not to let him see the tears streaming down my cheeks. When I get to the bedroom, I shut the door and lock it so he can’t come in after me.

A moment later, I hear him knocking on the door.

“Baby, I’m sorry.” His voice is muffled through the thick wood. “I let my anger get the better of me. You’re right, I shouldn’t ever talk to you like that.”

His apology has little effect on me. I whip out my phone and quickly look for hotels with vacancy. I book a room as I pack my suitcase. Peter’s still talking to me through the door. I close the sliding door to the walk-in closet so I can’t hear him. I grab the essentials plus some of my favorite special occasion pieces. When my suitcase is full to bursting, I leave the bedroom.

“What’s that?” Peter asks.

“A suitcase. I’m taking it to the hotel I’ll be staying at until I can find a new place to live,” I say. I don’t give Peter a chance to respond as I storm out the front door, slamming it behind me.

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