Chapter 19 #2
“The ranger service are looking for someone to work in the information office in town. James saw the posting and told me about it. She was heading into town yesterday, so I went with her and went into the office and spoke to them about it. It’s part-time to start off with, just four six-hour days, but they said it could become full-time once Erin fully retires. ”
“You don’t need a job,” I tell her through gritted teeth.
“Of course I need a job. I can’t mooch off you forever, Warrick. I need to contribute,” she protests, her happiness from only moments ago slowly draining from her.
“You’re not fucking mooching. You’re my woman, and it’s my job to take care of you,” I growl.
“This isn’t the nineteen-fifties, Warrick. I don’t need to be taken care of.”
“You have less than five dollars to your name, and you were living in a tent when I found you.” I know I’ve fucked up the moment the words are out of my mouth, but it’s too late to try to take them back.
Her shoulders slump and tears instantly fill her eyes. “Fuck you, Warrick,” she whispers, the words thick with emotion. “Fuck you.” Then she slides off the counter and rushes upstairs, leaving me alone in the kitchen, feeling like the biggest kind of asshole.
Sighing, I slowly follow her, climbing the stairs to our room and wondering what I’ll find when I get there.
I’m expecting to find her packing, but instead, our room is empty.
Panic steals my breath, but she can’t have left.
It’s been less than a minute since she came upstairs, and unless she slipped from a window, she’d have to pass me to have gone out the front door.
I check the bathroom, but it’s empty too. Opening the door to the bedroom she used when she first moved in, I find her sitting on the bed with her knees pulled to her chest and her tear-streaked face resting against them.
“I’m an asshole,” I say, sinking to my knees at the side of the bed.
She nods but doesn’t speak.
“I’m being selfish because I don’t want you to get a job.”
“Why?” she asks, her voice small, the single word thick with tears.
“I work a ninety-six-hour shift, and when I get home, I want you here. If you’re working when I’m home, I’ll never get to see you.
I’ve missed you so much these last four days, and I don’t think I could have gone another moment without seeing and touching you.
I know it’s selfish, and I’m only thinking about me, but if you get this job and you’re working while I’m off shift, I’ll lose my mind. ”
Sucking in a breath, she exhales, staring at me as tears drip down her cheeks. “I can’t just sit and wait for you to get off work, doing nothing but spending your money and eating your food.”
“Why not?”
“Because it makes me feel like I’m taking advantage of you.”
I chuckle, because, seriously. “How the fuck are you taking advantage of me?”
“Because I have less than five dollars to my name and was living in a tent when you found me.” She repeats my words back to me, and I flinch, because yep, I’m an asshole.
“Amore mio—”
Turning, she silences me with a look. “I don’t cook, I don’t clean, I don’t contribute any money. I don’t bring anything to this relationship, except sex. So is that why I’m here, because you want to fuck me?”
“Don’t,” I warn.
“Tell me what my purpose is.” She’s demanding and begging me to give her an answer all at the same time.
“Your purpose is to be spoiled and taken care of. You’re mine.”
“So I’m here because you want a pet that you can fuck? Is a house and food and new clothes the price of sex these days? Because it would probably be cheaper to just pay for it.”
“Verity, stop.”
“If I was the one with money, would you be okay with it if I told you to give up work and be a pampered ornament?”
“You’re not a fucking ornament; you’re my wife, and my wife doesn’t need to work. I earn decent money, and I have savings. I can take care of my woman.”
Some of her ire deflates as she stares up at me with glassy eyes.
“But I’m not your wife, Warrick, and I want to work.
I can’t live here and just let you take care of me, because if I do, I might as well accept that I ran away from being sold for sex, and instead I’ve ended up exchanging sex for a house, a refrigerator full of food, and some beautiful clothes. I’m not for sale, Warrick.”
Her words hit like a sledgehammer to the gut. “You think I’m trying to buy you?”
Tears roll down her cheeks. “You already did.”
Disgusted that she feels this way, I turn away from her and leave the room, choosing to give her my back for the first time since we met.
Going downstairs, I open the refrigerator and concentrate on food, pulling out eggs, ham, and cheese.
After a couple of minutes she follows me, standing on the opposite side of the kitchen counter.
Neither of us speaks while I make us omelets, and by the time I’ve set the table and we sit down, side by side, I still have no idea what to say.
“What time is your interview?” I finally ask, breaking the silence.
“One p.m.,” she says quietly.
“Okay.”
This isn’t how I expected this day to go.
In my mind, I’d envisioned twenty-four hours of nothing but naked debauchery, but instead, the woman I love and want to marry thinks my desire to take care of her is actually me trying to buy sex.
She thinks I’m no fucking better than the asshole strip club-owning pimp, who wanted to sell her by the hour.
It’s nearly eleven forty-five by the time I collect the plates and carry them into the kitchen. “You should get ready for your interview,” I tell her without looking at her.
“Warrick,” she starts, but I turn my back on her again, concentrating on loading the dishes into the dishwasher.
Once the kitchen is clean, I slowly climb the stairs and step into our bedroom. Verity is sitting on the floor in front of the mirror doing something to her hair. Carefully stepping around her, I pull jeans, a shirt, and some socks from the closet and get dressed, then leave the room.
Thirty minutes later, I hear the sound of her feet on the stairs and force myself to look at her.
She looks beautiful in a pair of slim black pants and a white T-shirt.
Part of me wants to go to her, to muss her hair and kiss her for long enough that her lips are sexily pink and swollen, but instead I get to my feet, grab my car keys from the bowl by the front door, and hold the door open while she looks up at me with sad, doe eyes.
“If you really don’t want me to do this, I won’t,” she whispers, pausing in front of me.
“You’ll be late if we don’t leave now,” I say, looking toward the car and waiting for her to step outside.
The car ride into town is full of strained silence. I want to say something to reassure her, but what the fuck do you say when the woman you love believes that you are actively trying to buy her?
Slowing to a stop on the street outside the ranger’s office, I kill the engine and exhale shakily. “Good luck,” I tell her.
“I’m sorry—” she starts.
Shaking my head, I stop her. “We can talk later, but first you need to go and ace your interview.”
“Warrick,” she whimpers.
“Do you have your cell?”
She nods.
“Do you want me to wait for you, or would you rather call me when you’re done?”
“I don’t mind. I’m not sure how long I’m going to be.”
“I’ll go grab a cup of coffee then. Call me when you’re ready for me to swing by and pick you up.”
“Okay,” she whispers, sounding miserable.
Sucking in a breath, I squeeze my eyes shut, then open them again and turn to look at her. Pinching her chin between my finger and thumb, I press a chaste kiss against her lips. “You’ve got this. Go and show them they’d be an idiot not to offer you the job on the spot.”
Inhaling shakily, she nods, her eyes watery and a little lost.
Unable to help myself, I lean forward and kiss her again, then I let her go and watch as she opens her door and climbs out. When she pushes into the ranger’s office, I can’t help feeling like I’ve lost her.
Starting my Jeep, I drive around the corner to the coffee shop and park. Climbing out, I order myself a coffee, then take a seat at one of the bistro tables on the sidewalk, and sip at it while I try not to worry about how I’m going to fix this fucked-up mess.
I love Verity. I want to marry her and to give her everything that her heart desires, but she just imploded our entire relationship, and I don’t know how to even begin to fix it.
I thought she understood that all I want in the world is to take care of her. I had no idea that she views my desire to look after her as an attempt to control her. She thinks that I’m offering her some kind of messed-up bartering system where I gift her things in exchange for sex.
The easiest way of fixing this is for her to get a job and to have her own money. But I don’t know how I’m going to cope with being in a relationship with someone I barely see. My job isn’t flexible. My hours are long and constantly changing, and there’s nothing I can do about that.
If she gets this job, some weeks she could be working all day on the days I’m at home and be home all day on the days I’m at work.
I know that my brothers’ wives work, but I’m a selfish bastard, and I want Verity to be there when I get back off shift.
I want to gorge myself on her for every one of my ninety-six hours at home so that I can survive the ninety-six without her.
But she feels like I’m trying to exchange sex for a home and a comfortable life. How the fuck am I meant to react to that? Is that why she’s with me? Is that why she has sex with me? Did she only do it because she thought I’d kick her out if she didn’t sleep with me?
The coffee turns to acid in my gut, and I push the mug away, wondering how the fuck I’ve ended up in this position. I thought everything was perfect between us, and now I’m wondering if she feels like she ran from a pimp and ended up trapped by a sugar daddy she never wanted.