34. Ella

CHAPTER 34

ELLA

THREE WEEKS LATER

I'm absolutely over the moon for Xavier and his new promotion, but damn I wish he still had a bit more time for me. I know we agreed to talk less and see each other less, but I thought maybe with the new role we'd still see each other somewhat regularly. Despite his new hours supposedly being more 9 to 5, he's working more than ever. Other than a quick dinner nine days ago and a Sunday afternoon hook-up, we haven't spent any time together. I know he has to work hard to establish himself at first, but the little voice in my head keeps whispering to me that this is coming to an end and he's just going to disappear. I know it's my own anxieties causing these feelings and I'm trying to not overthink it and make up scenarios in my head, but old habits are hard to break.

When he came over three weeks ago to tell me his dad had decided to retire, I'd never seen him so happy and so excited. His whole face had lit up and honestly, I think I fell for him even more. Turns out a man with passion and ambition gets me going, who would have thought? He had wanted to celebrate, and he did so by worshipping my body for hours. It got to the point where I had to tell him I couldn't handle any more as my body had become so over sensitive, that the slightest whisper of a kiss could have had me shattering. He stayed the night and I had savoured every second in his arms. We did agree to no more sleepovers, but once again we broke our own rule. He had told me the next few months would be difficult, and that he had a lot of work to do, so I knew we would see each other even less. It's not like he didn't warn me. I also told him I'd give him time to sort out all of the other stuff going on in his life, so on top of the new role, I shouldn't be surprised that we have less contact.

It's now Sunday, three weeks since he was handed the job and three weeks since our last proper moment together. He's planned to come over tonight for dinner, so I've decided to go all out and cook us something rather than just get takeaway like we usually would. He always teases me about how much pasta I eat so I've decided to show him why I eat so much by cooking him my favourite pasta dish, roast pumpkin ravioli with burnt butter and sage sauce, complete with homemade garlic bread. I first ate this dish when I travelled to Ireland of all places, and it has been a staple in my diet ever since.

I've gone all out for this dinner. I figured other than our night of passion, we hadn't really had a moment to properly celebrate his news. I've cleared up the dining room table—which is unheard of as I eat almost every meal on the couch—and set it up nicely with matching cutlery. I even lit a candle, but I'm still debating if that's too romantic or not. I bought a bottle of wine that cost more than ten dollars, and I have a tub of Ben and Jerry's in the freezer for dessert. I really hope he likes it.

I've finished preparing the garlic bread, I have the oven preheating, and the saucepan on the stove, ready to boil the water for the pasta. I check my phone for the time, it's 6:15pm and he's due to be here at 6:30pm. Perfect . I go to my room and do another outfit check, knowing full well he could care less about what I'm wearing, but still, I want to look cute. I've opted for the blue sundress I wore back when we first met. I know how much he liked it and I really want to make an impression on him tonight. I don't know why, maybe I just want to remind him that I'm here.

I head back into the kitchen to put the garlic bread in the oven and put a frying pan on the heat, ready to start making the sauce. I go through the motions, and when I'm sure the sauce is almost ready, I put the pasta in the pot. It only takes a few minutes to cook, so I take that time to turn off the oven and get two plates out for serving. I check the time again, it's 6:35pm. That's fine, he's probably just stuck in traffic.

I get the garlic bread out of the oven and put it on a plate on the table and cover it to keep it hot. I drain the pasta and add it to the pan with the sauce. I spoon it onto the plates and then grate some parmesan cheese over the top, then place them on the table and fill our glasses with wine. I take a photo of my set up and send it to Millie with the caption #wifeme. She laughs in response and tells me to have the best night.

I check the time again, it's now 6:47pm. Okay, that's odd for Xavier . He's normally quite punctual. As I'm thinking of an excuse as to why he could be running late, my phone rings in my hand, and it's him.

"Hey! I was just about to message you. Everything okay?" I ask.

"Hey Ell, I'm so sorry. I'm not going to be able to get to your place for a while, I'm running a little late."

"Oh." My heart sinks. "Well… how late do you think you'll be?"

"I'm not sure. I won't make it for dinner, I know that much. But I can probably come over later. I know what I'd like for dessert," he says with a seductive chuckle.

I take a subtle but deep breath to keep my emotions in check. I plan a cute little dinner date and he's now bailing on me, but still expects to come over later in the night to fuck. I know that's literally what this ‘friends with benefits' arrangement is supposed to be, but I thought maybe now that he'd gotten the promotion, it would be different. I take a second deep breath.

"Um, well, I had actually planned a celebratory dinner for you tonight."

"Aw really? That's sweet. Can we do a rain check? We can get our usual takeaway the next time I come over."

Breathe in. Breathe out. Don't get emotional.

"No, I mean I—I already cooked dinner. Tonight. For us, for you. It was going to be a surprise," I say. The line is quiet on the other end for a little bit.

"Oh."

"Yeah," I whisper. "But it's fine. You're working, I get it. Really. I should have told you what I was planning. I'll just… have leftovers now for lunch to morrow. Lucky me!" I try to laugh but it comes out strained.

"Ell, I am really sorry. Things just got busy, and I lost track of time. I can still come over after I'm done but I don't know what time that will be."

"I know. It's fine. Um, maybe we just won't worry about tonight. I should probably have an early night anyway. Gotta work tomorrow," I say. It's getting harder to keep my emotions at bay and a single tear escapes. As much as I want to see him—I really want to see him—I don't want him coming here just to fuck me and then leave. I'm worth more than that. I deserve better than that.

"Okay," he mumbles. "I'll try and free up some time this week to see you. I'm sorry, again."

"I'll talk to you during the week, then," I say as more tears escape and start streaming down my face. I really hope he can't tell that I'm crying.

"Goodnight, Ella."

"Night."

I hang up the phone and let the tears free fall, just like my therapist told me to. I fall onto my couch and curl up in a blanket to gain some semblance of comfort. I'm not crying loudly, there's no sobbing or heaving. The tears fall silently and trickle down my cheeks and onto my chest. I look at the dining table set for our dinner, the candle still flickering in the dim light, and our dinner still sitting there ready to be eaten. It only sends a fresh wave of tears streaming down my face.

It shouldn't hurt this much. This hurts more than when I got stood up by that douchebag, whose name I can't even remember now. I shouldn't be this upset over a stupid dinner but I am. So what? He got caught up at work, he didn't know I had dinner planned for us. We're only supposed to be physically involved. It's not like he's my boyfriend or husband...

I guess I just thought I meant more to him, especially after we confessed our feelings. I know why this hurts so much—it's because I fucking miss him.

I allow a few more minutes to cry and feel sorry for myself before heading into the bathroom to wash my face. I look at my reflection in the mirror and I just look tired. I take a few more deep breaths and head back out to the kitchen. Then, I scrape the pasta into takeaway containers. I'm not hungry anymore, but at least I do have lunch for work tomorrow. I blow out the candle. Normally I'd make a wish, but honestly, I'm too defeated to even try. I throw everything else in the sink, grab both glasses of wine, and head into my bedroom, ready to do what I always do when a man lets me down; escape into my current fantasy novel to be with fictional men instead. My phone buzzes and it's a message from Xavier.

Xavier

What did you cook for dinner tonight?

I consider it for a moment before replying with the picture I sent to Millie. The table set for two with the candle flickering and dinner ready for us both. Fuck it. Let him see the effort I put in.

Ella

My favourite pasta, the one that I told you about.

I put the phone down, take a massive gulp of wine and open my book, gently of course, so as to not crack the spine. After a few moments, my phone starts ringing and surprise, it's Xavier. I stare at it for a moment, before putting it on silent and ignoring the call. I don't have anything else to say tonight, I'm tired. My phone lights up as he tries ringing again, and still, I ignore it. After a few minutes a new message comes through.

Xavier

I'm so sorry, Ell. It looks amazing. I wish I could be there.

"Yeah, but you're not. You could be, but you're not." I mutter to myself. I ignore the message, switching my phone ‘to do not disturb' mode, and finish the first glass of wine. Finally, I settle into my book, hoping that magic battles and mystical beasts will help me escape the feeling of complete and utter disappointment.