Page 72 of We Drank the Dawn

He took a long, steady inhale. “Maybe we can talk about it later?”

“Sure. Whatever.”

We drove in silence for a few minutes, and the businesses flying by blurred as I fought back tears. But they brimmed in my eyes, persisting. When I blinked, my eyelashes sent them flicking down my cheeks. I wanted Peter to be my husband.

My husband.

Didn’t he want me as his wife?

Was there something wrong with me?

Was he still undecided somehow?

My fists clenched handfuls of my dress as I fought the massive explosion simmering in my chest. I wasn’t just hurt, I was angry. This evening would’ve been the perfect time to ask me. As well as a thousand other evenings proceeding it. What was he waiting for?

Heartbreak melted into rage.

I sniffled, the sound barely audible.

But Peter heard. “Sarah, talk to me.”

“No,” I spat.

“Did I do something?”

“Yes.”

He took another quiet breath and even though I wanted to strangle him, his calm never ceased to amaze me. “When do you want to talk about it?”

“We already have.”

I could feel my mascara growing tacky and I needed a Kleenex or a napkin or something. Sometimes Peter kept some in his glove box. I tapped the release button on the glove compartment. But just as I was about to put my hand in, Peter slammed it closed.

“What are you doing?” He asked, his voice panicked.

I turned toward him, my jaw falling open. “Um, getting a tissue for my face? Is that okay?”

“There’s no tissues in there.”

“Okay, a napkin then.”

“I don’t have anything. Sorry.” Hesitantly, he sat upright in his seat again. “Seriously, there’s nothing in there.”

Did he not want me to go through his glove box? A bolt of anxiety reared in my chest. I had never in my entire life known Peter to be secretive. He was always an open book and never had anything to hide. Swallowing, I said, “I’m just going to double check.”

I tapped the button again.

And again, Peter’s hand shot out, pressing it closed.

“What the hell?”

He didn’t move his hand as he slowed at a red light. “I can’t let you do that.”

“Why?!”

“Sarah, please just trust me⁠—”

“No. I’m pissed now. Move your hand.”