I nod and scrub the plate some more. Jeanine reaches into the hot water and takes the plate from my hand. “I’ll do this. Why don’t you go and rest?”
“I don’t want to,” I snap, instantly feeling guilt but also not caring much.
“Okay, why don’t you bake or something?” Her warm eyes search my profile and I feel her concern piercing my bubble of fury.
“I just want to be alone,” I say quietly and brush past her. “Sorry.”
Their hushed tones follow me up the stairs. I can’t hear what they’re saying and honestly I don’t care. As soon as I enter my room, I put the photo frame face down without even looking at it. I can’t deal with your smile today, Caleb. Life isn’t always a fucking joy. Clearly.
Look at me. I’m a mess. Pining for a man that’s ash on his mother’s mantelpiece.
Not to mention that I’m in a house that doesn’t belong to me, using money that I didn’t earn, with a man who practically hates me, because of reasons I don’t fucking know.
There’s a knock at my door.
“Go away.”
“Is this mood due to something I’ve done?” Nathan starts but I’m not in the mood to hear him.
I open the door, my eyes narrowed and hopefully shooting daggers. “Not everything is about you. Leave me alone.” The door slams with a little more force than I intended.
I take my usual spot by the window, only leaving my room to have a quiet lunch and an even quieter dinner alone.
I wake up in the same mood and sleep in the same mood again and again for the next few days. Fortunately everybody avoids me for these days. When Nathan leaves my new clothes outside my bedroom, he only knocks and walks away. I should thank him but I don’t know how.
The clothes are great, all of them warm and fitting my swollen belly to perfection. They cheer me up a fraction, I won’t deny.
I even have some new walking boots which I’m grateful for, but I’m also curious as to how he knew I needed some. Maybe he’s been paying closer attention to me than I thought.
Sucking a long breath in, I shake my body loose and make my way downstairs.
Nathan is sat in his usual spot at the end of the table, a bowl of cereal in front of him and one where I sit. He looks up, gives me a nod and turns back to his book. “I didn’t think you were coming down.”
“Me neither.” I sit and stir my spoon around the milk before taking a bite. “Where’s Jeanine?”
“No idea, she didn’t show up for work this morning,” he responds but he doesn’t seem to care.
“She’s probably sick.”
“Either that or she’s about to stage an intervention.”
“What?” I look up as he places his book down and his eyes come to mine.
“You need to see a therapist.”
My voice is shrill this time. “What?”
“We’re concerned for your mental health. You haven’t left your room in three days except to eat and use the facilities.”
“So?” I gawp at him, my earlier anger returning with force.
He leans back in his seat. “It’s not healthy.”
“You do it all of the time,” I snap and push away from the table. “I don’t want to hear this.”
“Go and get dressed. You’re coming into the city with me today,” he states and his tone tells me there’s no argument.
“I don’t want to.” I argue anyway.
“Either go upstairs and make yourself presentable or I’ll drag you to the city looking the way you do now.”
“What’s wrong with how I look?” Arrogant arsehole!
“You look like you’ve just rolled out of bed.”
Well… I have. Who cares?
He gives me another pointed look. I groan with exasperation and leave the room muttering, “I’m going, I’m going.”
“Oh, and Gwen?”
“What?” I call from my place at the bottom of the stairs.
“You’re welcome.”
Damn it. The clothes.
I forgot to thank him. I rush back inside the dining room and his eyes go wide when he sees me charging at him.
Gripping his wrist in one hand and his shoulder in the other, I press my lips to his cheek, say, “Thanks,” and leave the room. I want to snigger at his shocked face but I don’t have the energy to do it, so I sit and wait for him to wash his cheek. After counting down from ten, I spy him rushing into the kitchen to scrub at his cheek with a clean cloth.