The Price of Inertia (The Seven Sins #4) - Lily Zante Page 0,39
get under my skin. I’ve seen her in her tight and clingy yoga gear. I’ve seen her smooth naked stomach. I can’t unsee those long thin legs. I can’t help but notice the bow shaped full lips, or the way her silky chestnut hair cascades around her shoulders when she lets it out of her ponytail in the evenings.
I swallow. “I can’t settle here. It’s the house.”
Rob snorts. “The house? Are you kidding me? Ward, what’s with you?”
I’m distracted, is what’s wrong, but it’s none of Rob’s business what my problem is. His solution clearly isn’t working and it’s causing me more grief. And that’s my real bone of contention. “I’ve been here long enough—”
“You can’t come back until the book is done, Ward. The first draft at least. We agreed.”
“We didn’t agree. You said this was what I needed to do—”
“I said I couldn’t babysit you anymore.”
“I’m not falling apart,” I insist.
“You didn’t write for months. You haven’t written. In your line of work, that’s considered a fail, and this year is—”
I grit my teeth together. “I’m not failing. I’m not falling apart. My mom died. I can handle it.”
“You’ve been making good progress ever since you moved. A change is as good as a – uh… what’s the expression?”
I ignore the question. “I’m almost halfway done with the first draft.”
“See, it’s working. You needed a change of place, of people.”
An awkward silence bleeds into the air.
“What’s the real problem, Ward”
Where do I start? That Mari is avoiding me. That she thinks I’m an asshole. That I care what she thinks. But most of all that she hates me. And why the hell do I even care? “I hate Chicago,” I reply, thinking of how I have done everything to not step outside the door. This city has given me scars I have tried so hard to forget.
“It’s Saturday night, Ward. Take a break. Do something.”
“I was doing something.” I growl. I’ve been trying to write all day, but knowing that Mari has gone out with the trainer seems to have used up most of my thinking power. It’s no use talking to Rob. He won’t understand. “I’ll get the first draft done, and then I’m coming back.”
“Then you can.”
I hang up, annoyed. I’m stifled, being in here all day long. Back home I would go for a walk, not every day, but a few times a week. I’ve become slow, and sluggish here. The workouts help.
I run my hand over my stomach. It’s becoming flatter. My muscle memory is beginning to kick in. With continued effort and persistence, I feel confident I can start to regain some of my original body shape.
I glance at my watch. She’s still not back.
Screw this.
Rob says I can’t return until the first draft is done. That’s a challenge. He’s thrown down the gauntlet. I’ll get this first draft done faster than he thinks.
Chapter 16
MARI
The following day, I don’t see Ward or hear from him. There are no notes on the kitchen island when I come downstairs in the morning.
By late afternoon I’ve still not heard from him, and his lunch has gone untouched in the fridge.
It’s the weekend and I don’t clean his desk or do any tidying up on the because it’s my time off. He’s asked for me to leave him some food if I can, otherwise it’s not a problem. I’ve been good and have left him food whenever I’ve gone to see my mom.
Even now, while we’re in the middle of our disagreement I still endeavor to make sure he has food and drink. He’s still my boss and it’s only because of him that I’m able to pay for my mom’s nursing home and treatment.
I have a heart.
I’m not all stone cold bitch.
I tiptoe towards his study, open the door and peer in. Two lamps are lit. One on his desk and one on the side table near the fire. He’s lying on the couch, on his side, fast asleep.
I step inside meek as a mouse.
The room is a mess. Papers are everywhere. The floor is littered with plates and packets. The donut boxes are back.
He’s had a binge session. A junk food fiesta.
The room smells. I don’t know where to start. The sight of the messy table makes me itch. I feel the need to tidy it, and clear the floor, and open the windows.
I fight back the urge to spring clean this hovel. I tiptoe over to the couch. Ward looks peaceful when he’s asleep.