“He doesn’t.  He’s told me that.”

She cocked her head to the side.  “Why?  I mean, apart from the obvious, is there something else going on with those two?”

I thought about it for a moment.  “I just thought it was because of their fight.  Do you think something else has happened between them?”

“Maybe.  You should ask him, suss out whether that could be it.”

Smiling, I said, “Thank you.  I knew you would be able to help.”

“Anytime.”  She looked at the clock.  “Now, I hate to tell you to leave, but if you don’t go soon, you’re going to be late for work.”

I quickly finished off my coffee and stood up to leave.  “You’ve always got my back, haven’t you?”  I leant across the counter and gave her a quick kiss on the cheek.  “Love you.”

***

I was still turning this over in my head that night as I put J’s dinner in the oven.  It was just after nine pm and he wasn’t home from work yet.  He’d been coming home later and later, and I had no idea what time to expect him.  But I’d decided to try to talk to him tonight; to find out what was bothering him.

I was startled out of my thoughts when I heard a crash at the front door.  “J, is that you?” I yelled out.

“Yeah,” he called back; it didn’t sound like he was in a good mood.

A moment later he appeared in the kitchen and dumped a cat cage on the floor.  Straightening, he muttered, “Scott better fucking appreciate this.”

I took one look at Monty and quickly let him out of the cage.  “Shit, I forgot to tell you that I’d agreed to have him this weekend.  Sorry, baby.”  Scott was taking Harlow away for the weekend and now that Monty pretty much lived at his house, he’d asked me to look after him.  J hated cats; that’s why I’d failed to mention it to him.

He was clearly annoyed.  “The things you’d do for Scott and the things I’d fucking do for you.”

His words were just what I needed to hear.  With all the thinking I’d been doing about him and our relationship today, it was a relief to know that he felt that way.  I smiled at him, and said,  “Thank you.”

He pulled me to him and roughly kissed me before saying, “I’m gonna hit the shower and then probably go to bed.  It’s been a long day and I’m wiped.”

Disappointment flooded me and I felt like I had whiplash from my emotions.  One minute, happy with him and the next upset.  He’d come home late, he hadn’t eaten the dinner I’d cooked for him and now he was just going to go to bed without spending any time with me.  Before I could say anything, he was gone.  

And I hadn’t gotten the chance to talk to him about us.

And he still hadn't noticed my hair.

***

The next morning, J was in the shower when I woke up.  I got out of bed and headed into the kitchen to get the coffee going.  Determination to talk to him took over, and seems as though it was the weekend now, we would have plenty of time to talk.

He joined me ten minutes later, and the first thing I noticed was that he looked exhausted.  Then I noticed that he wasn’t dressed in his casual weekend stuff, but rather he looked like he was heading to the clubhouse.

“Are you going out?” I asked.

He avoided my gaze, and busied himself with making breakfast.  “Yeah,” was all he said.

“It’s Saturday, J.  I thought we could do something together today.  Thought we could talk about what’s going on between us.”  I held my breath and waited for his response.

He stilled, but didn’t look at me.  Eventually, he did turn around.  “I’ve got stuff to do at the clubhouse.”

I saw the guilt on his face.  There was definitely something going on; something he didn't want to talk about.  I decided to push the point.  “That’s okay, we can talk when you get home.”

He frowned, but then nodded.  “Yeah,” he said, quietly, and then turned back to finish getting his breakfast.

I watched him for another minute or so.  My appetite had vanished and I felt an urgent need to be on my own, away from J, so I grabbed my coffee and took it into the bedroom.  I felt his eyes on me as I left but he never said a word so I didn’t stop.

Tonight, we would talk.

Which meant that I would spend the day psyching myself up for it.

***

At nine o’clock that night, I reached into the oven and pulled the cupcake tray out.    “Son of a bitch,” I yelled out as the tray burnt my finger.  I dropped it onto the bench and slammed the oven shut.  Turning the tap on, I ran the cold water over the burn on my finger.  “Fucking asshole,” I muttered.

I was startled by a deep rumble.  “Who’s the asshole?”

J.

I didn’t turn to look at him, just kept running the water over my finger and staring at the sink.  “You.  You’re the asshole.”

He didn’t say anything but I could hear his heavy breathing.  And then I couldn’t.  I turned my head to find him gone.

What the fuck?

What the fucking fuck?

I flicked the tap off and stalked out of the kitchen in search of him.

He was in the bathroom and it looked like he was about to take a shower.  This meant that he planned on going to bed because J always showered before bed.  And I just knew in my heart and my gut that he’d had no intention of having that talk with me.