Chapter Thirty-six
Rain
“I heard you’re working on a new project,” Dad says with a wide smile as he scans the office.
I raise a brow, my finger pausing over the keyboard. “I’m still plotting it. I haven’t even announced it to the board yet. Is there a snitch I need to fire in this company? It was Tia, wasn’t it?” My heart races as I wonder if he’s here to make another absurd deal. I make a mental note to not sign anything from him.
He chuckles as he takes a seat, the leather seat creaking under him. “Let’s just say I have my ways. But honestly, Rain, you’re taking the company to the next level. You’ve only been CEO for three months, and you’re already plotting a presentation. I’m jealous. It took me two years to come up with my own idea of a website after my Dad handed the company to me.”
As he speaks, I narrow my eyes, sending there’s more to the visit than a casual conversation about work. “What do you really want? Because I know you’re not here to talk about how I’m so much better than you are.”
“You’re always mean to me. Renzo and Reina never treat me like this.” After he sees that my expression doesn’t waver, his expression turns serious. He shifts in his seat and clasps his hand together. “Fine. I wanted to ask about your wife. How’s it going with her?”
My heart skips a beat at the mention of her. I try to brush it off, my face remaining impassive as I tap a rapid staccato on the armrest of my office chair. “It’s … going as it should go.”
Despite him looking like he has more to say, he only purses his lips and nods. “I’ll take that. I’d expected you to flare up and list a lot of complaints about her. I knew from the first time I saw her that she’d steal your heart.”
My defense mode switches on and I glare at him. “She’s not stealing—“ I take a tired deep breath and straighten my back. “Dad, what do you want?”
“Your mother wants to know if you’ll be attending the ceremony. And by you , she means you and Hazel.”
“What ceremony?”
“He chuckles. “You better not let her hear you ask that. Her yearly Women’s Wing party, of course. It’s in a week.”
My Mom has an organization for women empowerment, where she gathers women from different places, in different places, trains them to have handiworks, after which she sets up businesses for them based on those works. She throws a party once every year to gather and celebrate them.
“I’ll be attending. Hazel won’t.”
“You dare not, Rain. Are you going to leave the poor girl all alone at home? Ti avevo insegnato meglio.”
“So what then? You want me to bring her? In a place where people will be? In case you forgot, it’s a secret marriage. The keyword being secret.”
Dad goes silent for what seems like an hour, tapping his fingers with each passing moment before he speaks again. “I don’t see anything wrong if you bring her. You bring escorts all the time.”
Anger creeps up my body and I roll my fists into tight balls as I take in his words. “You want me to pretend Hazel is an escort? That’s my wife!” I yell at him in unfiltered rage for the disrespect he pushed toward Hazel.
He says nothing. Instead, he laughs and shakes his head at me. That’s all I need to realize that I’ve been baited. I look away, a mix of emotions swirling in me.
“I can see changes in you, son. Whether you admit it or not, you’ve changed. Your eyes are warmer and you’re even defending her now. You paid her to marry you just like you pay your escorts. It’s your feelings that’s now making you see the difference.”
“Do you see her as an escort?”
“I see her as whatever you think she is. Who is she, Rain? Bring her home to us with the title you want us to address her as.”
I look away, my Dad’s words striking a cord inside me. Even when I itch to tell him that I want them to see her as my wife, I still don’t have the courage to admit my feelings. It’ll pass anyway. “You’re reading too much into it, Dad. It’s just business. It has always been, it will always be.”
Not one part of my body and soul believe that anymore, but I say it anyway.
The conversation shifts after my Dad sees us getting nowhere with my denial. He leaves, and I work for a few more hours before leaving.
I drive past a florist and decide to stop by to get Hazel some flowers. I’d sent her a bouquet earlier in the morning, but I have a weird craving to see her reaction when she sees me holding it.
I’ve never bought flowers for anyone before—except for occasions, but doing something out of character no longer surprises me. I’ve come to realize that there’s one person we learn to break our own rules for. For me, Hazel is that person. She’s the only woman I’ll let rebuild me.
The woman in question sits on the dining table when I open the door and change into my house slippers. As I walk further into the house, I tilt my head, feeling a different kind of energy than usual.
Hazel sees me and stands. My eyes narrow at the single plate on the table. “Welcome,” she greets monotonously without raising her head to look at me. “I’ll serve your dinner.” I watch as she serves pasta and grilled meat, focusing on it like it’s a work project she has to submit to the board tomorrow. She fills my cups with wine and water before turning to leave for her room.
My hand grabs her wrist impulsively and she stops. “Are you not eating?”
“I ate already.”
“Without… me?” I cringe at how shocked and desperate I sound to my ears, but I nod anyway, dropping her hand and letting her leave for her room.
My tie feels like a tight strangle as I stare at the stairs for too long, and I pull it off with an angry grunt. Did I do something wrong? Why is she ignoring me? She didn’t even look at me for a full minute. Was it because I complained about her food last night? Shit, I should have shut up and ate.
Rain, calm down. She could be having a bad day. You have a bad day everyday. I hear my conscience assure me.
Only tonight. If the same thing happens tomorrow, then I know something’s wrong.
“Hazel hasn’t been talking to me,” I tell the boys as my middle finger plays with the rim of my wine glass. It’s hard to admit, but my wife has been messing with my brain. It’s been two days and she’s still ignoring me. It’s torture. Peace has never been so loud until Hazel made me taste her version of it.
I made a mistake on my financial report at work and Tia’s shocked face screamed “are you dying from a life threatening sickness?”
“What do you mean?” Knox asks.
“I mean she isn’t talking to me. She’s ignoring me and acting like I don’t exist.”
“But that’s your job,” Renzo jabs, but I ignore him. First reason being that he never takes me seriously, and all I need at the moment is constructive advice, and the second reason being that he’s right. However, no matter how much I try to ignore Hazel, she always finds a way to talk to me and get in my skin.
“I mean… congratulations? That’s all you’ve always wanted, right? For her to let you alone and just be your acquaintance until the sixth month. So what now? You don’t sound like you’re announcing that to us with joy.” I chug down my wine instead of giving Anton a reply. He’s also right, but I don’t want that anymore. I wasn’t aware that not getting bothered by her was going to disrupt my whole system.
“Admit it, Rain. If you don’t want to admit that you feel something for her, then at least admit that you want her to talk to you.”
I stare for a few beats, scanning their faces for signs of mockery, but when I find none, I quietly admit that I do. I’m so starved for her attention it’s starting to scare me.
“Did you do something wrong?”
“No… yes. She made dinner for us and I complained about it after she asked for reviews.” I explain everything to them and Renzo facepalms himself.
“You still haven’t learned to give compliments?” he asks with a frown. “Can’t you also see why you deserve to not be spoken to? It’s because she hates you now. Which woman wants to spend hours in the kitchen only to hear that the chicken is overcooked instead of a freaking thank you for feeding me?”
“She doesn’t hate me,” I argue. “She still waters the flowers I gave her.” I saw a vase in the kitchen with the lilies I sent and bought for her. Earlier in the morning, I touched a petal, and it was damp. That’s the only assurance I hold to myself that it’s not hate she feels.
“You gave her flowers?”
“She waters them?” Knox and Anton chorus, and I give them a curt nod.
“Or she can just love flowers. If I had a cat from someone I now hate, I’m not going to kill the cat. You were the jerk, not the flowers.” There he goes with his stupid honesty that contributes nothing to the matter at hand.
“I think Renzo is right. It could also mean that she’s giving up on you.”
My neck snaps to Anton. Giving up on me? Why does that sound like a nightmare?
“Did you try apologizing to her though? For, you know, the dinner thing.”
I shrug and that gives them the answer they need.
“So you didn’t try to talk to her, or try to apologize, but you’re sulking that she’s ignoring you? Bro, you both aren’t talking to each other.”
“It’s childish that she isn’t talking to me because I gave her constructive criticism.”
“Oh you’re the one to talk about being childish when you’re too scared to admit that you like your wife. Also you call ‘you’re a terrible cook’ constructive criticism? Rain, stop! Plus it’s clear you liked the food because everything you said is play in comparison to what you would have said if you hated the food.”
“I never said she was a terrible cook. I said—”
“It doesn’t matter ‘what you said’ if that’s what she heard,” Knox spells loudly. “I thought you were in love once. How did Sara put up with you?”
“Trust me, they both had the same character running in their veins.”
I sigh and refill my glass. They aren’t helping. My brows tug together as I try to think for myself. What should I do? I’m not the best at apologizing, but I can do something else. I should send more flowers. She must love them if she keeps taking care of them. I rub my nose in sheer frustration. I hate the familiar emotion growing in my heart. Developing an interest in Hazel to the point of being incapable of my daily tasks because she isn’t giving me attention, isn’t a part of the plan.
I’ve always been a man with a great ability to resist temptation and hold onto control no matter the circumstance, that was why the ‘never get involved with a woman again’ rule I set five years ago was easy for me. Now Hazel is invoking things in me that I don’t want to admit.
I nurse the amber liquid in my cup before taking a small sip. Another sigh falls out of my mouth.
“Do you want our help?” I ignore them. Now they want to give advice after saying a whole lot of nothing.
“You don’t want it. Are you sure? Anton is right, she may be giving up on you. I mean, who would blame her? You’re not the easiest person to live with. Imagine her now waiting for the sixth month to be over so she can finally leave you and your grumpy ass.”
My jaw tightens and I fist my hands until I feel blood draining from them. Discomfort grows in my chest area and I let out a quiet groan before I ask, “What do I do?”
“What do you do when something you really want is running from you?”
I put off denying that I ‘ really want’ Hazel. The boys can tell I’m just having a hard time admitting it to myself.
“I chase after it?”
“Exactly.”