but I find I quite like it.” Or maybe I’m just bored.
“What’s there to clean? How does that place get dirty?”
“He likes it clean.” And what else is there for me to do but clean, in the morning, then have his lunch ready, then I have a few hours before I prepare dinner. Then I’ll hit the gym, though ever since that day when Ward was standing over me, I haven’t been. “I keep myself busy. It’s the only way I get through the day. I’m done by six o’clock and then the day is mine.”
“He doesn’t summon you during the night to make him a sandwich?”
I find that an odd question, even if it’s a boyish attempt at a joke. “No.” I get up. “I need to go. He’ll be wondering where I am.”
“He has tabs on you?”
“I don’t usually go out in the middle of the weekday.”
“You make it sound like you’re in a prison, Mari.”
Sometimes it seems like one. I blow him a kiss. “See you tomorrow.”
“What happened to lunch?” I hear him say, as I head towards the door. I didn’t mean to stay so long. It’s irrational, this sense of dread I have about it.
I rush off to buy the groceries I need. A short while later, I’m back at the house and I walk in with a grocery bag in my arms. Ward’s sitting at the kitchen island, with an empty plate, and a notebook by his side. It’s almost as if he was waiting for me to return.
“I was wondering where you were.” He closes his notebook.
“I had to get some chicken. You said you wanted chicken salad tonight for dinner.”
He gets up from the stool, displeasure darkening his features. “I went to get chicken,” I insist. I can’t tell what he’s pissed off about. “Did you need me for something? Because I made your lunch.”
“I’m not incapable of finding my lunch, or making it myself.” He starts to walk away, leaving his lunch plate and glass on the kitchen island. Normally it wouldn’t annoy me as much as it does right now.
Then why does he look so disgruntled?
“At least have the decency to face me when I’m talking to you!” I swipe a hand across my chest. Have I really just hollered at him like that?
He turns around and stares at me with an expression so cool—and the opposite of what I expect from him—that I’m temporarily floored.
I put the grocery bags downs and wish I hadn’t because now I’ve got nothing to do with my hands.
Don’t say something you’ll regret.
Don’t.
You need this job.
“Can you tell me why you’re so annoyed?” I ask, a little more softly.
A muscle tenses along his jaw and the tiny twitch in his skin alerts me to his unease. He says nothing, which only increases my frustration.
“I’m sorry if you’re upset,” I say. I hate kowtowing down to anyone, least of all him. It’s not in my nature, but I don’t want to run the risk of him telling me I’m fired.
I want to scream at him. Say something.
But he’s so cool. So unaffected. So aloof.
I quell the desire to throw something at him but he walks away without saying a word.
This isn’t me at all, a meek and subservient woman bowing down to the Lord of the Manor. That’s what this caveman makes me feel like, and I hate it.
Chapter 14
MARI
I’m not going to be a meek woman and act as if I’m in the wrong. So, the next morning, I make no attempt at polite conversation. In fact, I purposely avoid Ward.
I hate walking around as if I’m skating on thin ice, worried that it will crack and I will fall in and die. I hate feeling weak. It gets me wondering if my recent interactions with men have always been broken. Even with Dale, this wasn’t the first time he cheated on me. He’d done it before but I forgave him.
Why?
Because I needed him? Or because I thought he would change? We had it all, great chemistry, great sex. He was great in bed, an amazing kisser and an awesome lover. He was thoughtful and he understood me, or so I thought. He was a good listener, and not all men are. He was the man I thought I could have a future with. I was foolish enough to believe he was husband material, because in a sea of boyfriends where most were losers, Dale stood out. What does this say about me, except