I’d sacrificed everything for a man once. I’d never do it again.
Neither of us spoke in the car on the way back to my place. I should say, neither one of us spoke actual words. There was sighing, there was restless movement, there were lips bitten and tongues bitten, for that matter, and none of those things were done in the usual Natalie and Oscar fashion.
The car pulled up in front of my place, and like a shot, Oscar was out of the car and around to my side, as though refusing to let me get the jump on him again. I was angry. I was angry at how I’d handled things with Thomas, of course, but more important, I was angry at how Oscar had been behaving all night. I knew how to compartmentalize Thomas and would deal with that later. But I hadn’t built up any defense against Oscar.
I’d never thought I’d need to.
I stormed past him, clicking up the steps to my apartment while he slammed the car door shut behind me. I turned the key in my lock as if the door had done something personally to me. I sort of wished it would, so I’d have an excuse to break something.
What the hell was happening? Hours ago, we’d been making out behind the stall at the farmers’ market, hardly able to be near each other without wanting to bang our brains out. Now there was this horrible tension, like waiting for a balloon to pop.
I heard him come in behind, heard him shrug out of his jacket and felt his hands near my neck, ready to help me out of mine. I whirled on him suddenly, no longer willing to pretend I wasn’t angry.
“What the hell is happening?” I demanded. “I mean it, Oscar: what the hell?”
“You want to talk about this now?” he asked, tugging my coat off and hanging it carefully next to his.
“I think we’d better, don’t— Hey, don’t walk away from me!” I shouted as he walked toward the kitchen.
Spinning on his heel, he held his hands in the air as if to say no big deal. “Just getting a drink, baby. That’s all.”
“Don’t fucking call me baby. I hate that. You never call me baby,” I sputtered, still standing in the entryway, getting angrier by the second.
“What do you want me to call you? Honey? Sweetie? Tell me exactly what you want to be called, so I can make sure to address you correctly.” He disappeared around the corner and I could hear him opening the fridge, the ice tinkling in the glass.
I stomped down the hall. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
He poured a scotch, then waved the bottle around dramatically. “It doesn’t mean anything. Why does everything have to mean something?”
“It doesn’t, normally. But when someone’s acting like an asshole, then yeah, things tend to mean something.”
“An asshole?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.
I shook my head in surprise. “You don’t think so? ‘What do you want to be called, tell me exactly what you want to be called so I can’—what did you say?—‘address you correctly’? Asshole works, but I’m thinking jerk, dickhead, and straight-up motherfucker sound pretty good, too.”
“You’re pissed at me,” he said.
“You’re damn right I’m pissed at you. Your behavior was totally out of line tonight. First at the restaurant, and then at my mother’s art opening. I think out of line is an understatement.”
“Your mother was nice. Your father, too. But the rest of those people?” He tossed back the rest of his scotch. “They were all assholes.”
“I’m sorry?” I asked, fire creeping into my face.
“I’m sorry, too. Your little social circle is filled with jerk-offs.”
“You don’t even know them. How can you make judgments about people you just met?” I asked. “I’ve known some of these people for years. Maybe they’re not close friends, but I’ve spent time with them. We see each other at all the same parties, all the same restaurants, all the same events. Maybe they’re a little snooty at times, and a bit judgmental, but . . .”
Huh. Some of them were assholes, actually. But still, they were my assholes. Wait, that sounded terrible.
I changed course. “Oscar, I know you like to say what you want, when you want, at the exact second you have a thought. But sometimes you have to take a minute and think about what you’re saying, and if it’s necessary, and are you hurting anyone when you say it!”
“It hasn’t been a problem yet,” he answered.
I slammed my hand down on the counter. “It is a problem if I can’t take you out without worrying if you’re going to be an asshole!”
“Ahhhh,” he said, setting his drink down and taking a few steps closer. “That’s what this is about: not knowing how the guy from the sticks is going to behave at one of your bullshit cocktail parties.”
“Is that what you really think of me?” I whispered, feeling tears spring to my eyes.
“Why’d you talk to Brannigan’s about me? Tell the truth, now.”
“I already told you: because I wanted to help you! They’re one of the fastest-growing brands in the country, and they can put your product on shelves in cities all over the place. Why wouldn’t you want that?”
He slammed his hand on the counter. “Because I don’t need that! I don’t need to be on everyone’s shelves, I don’t need to be ‘in,’ and I don’t need some rich girl in Chicago to tell me that my cheese is good. I know it’s fucking good. Why does Bailey Falls Creamery need to be a household name?”
I blinked, surprised by his vehemence. “What’s wrong with being a household name?”
“I was supposed to be a household name! Me!” he yelled, pounding his chest. “And I didn’t want it! I didn’t want it then, and I don’t want it now. What the hell is wrong with everyone these days? Everything has to be bigger and brighter and better—when is it enough?”
“No one is saying that it has to be that, Oscar. I only thought that—”
“All my father wanted from me was to be a famous football player. Always number one; coming in second wasn’t an option. I got drafted for the National Football League, Natalie—and the first thing he said when it didn’t happen until the second round was that he hoped when it was my younger brother’s turn, he’d go in the first round.” He paced around the kitchen, getting wound tighter and tighter. “Do you have any idea how proud I am of what I’m doing now? I love what I do. We’re making some money, sure, but people love that fucking cheese. It’s really good, and that’s saying something.”