2. Michelle
2
MICHELLE
“Who the hell was that guy?” I look over at Jerry, who is clearly already fired up. He’s doing that thing where he sucks his lower teeth that he does when he’s pissed about something.
“Just one of the workers.” I shrug, averting my eyes.
“Oh, one of the workers?” he repeats. “You talk to workers now? About what? Two-by-fours? Cement mixtures and foundation pours?”
His grip on my thigh tightens to the point where it’s actually starting to hurt. “You know you belong to me now right, Michelle? I’m your man.”
“Yes, I know–I know that, Jerry,” I reply. I try to wriggle out of his grasp, but that only causes him to tighten his grip.
“What are you doing?” he asks.
“You’re hurting me.”
To my surprise, he actually loosens his grip and massages my leg with his palm.
“Sorry,” he apologizes. “But you know me. I get jealous. You’re going to be my wife, Michelle. I don’t want other men–especially men like that –thinking they have a chance with you.”
“Men like that?”
Jerry scoffs and laughs. “Don’t play dumb, Michelle. Those men were hired by your father and my father. They’re commoners. We are not.”
Jerry can actually be a decent guy sometimes, but it’s when he starts talking like this that I actually feel sick to my stomach.
Jerry’s dad runs a massive international shipping company, as well as many other businesses that they don’t talk to me about. All I know is his family is very, very wealthy. That’s what attracted my father to them in the first place. I’m not sure what he had to offer them, but my marriage to Jerry sure feels like something out of Game of Thrones . Two houses marrying their kids off for an increase both their power.
“So what was he talking to you about anyway, Michelle?”
“What?” I peek over at his interrogating eyes and search for an explanation that might appease him. “Oh, he was just asking me a question about the house.”
But all this does is cause Jerry to laugh. “What kind of question could you answer for him about the house? Listen, Michelle. Just because you have this fantasy of one day being an architect doesn’t mean you’re some kind of structural engineer or something.”
“Thanks, Jerry,” I reply, growing fed up with this. “That’s nice.”
“You want to know nice?” he snaps. “Nice is not flirting with redneck dirtbags while you have a fiancé! Now don’t let me catch you talking to that guy again. Understand?”
I turn and stare into his eyes.
Is this my future? This man dictating to me how I’m going to live my life? It’s hard to believe, and sometimes I want to just pack a bag and run away. But where would I go? How would I live? And I know, no matter where I went, my dad would find me.
“I understand,” I say finally.
A satisfied look comes over Jerry’s face, and he gives me an affectionate squeeze on the thigh, as though I’ll somehow forget how he just treated me.
I can’t get my mind off him the rest of the ride back to my house. And by him I don’t mean my future husband; I mean the “commoner” back there at the construction site.
I mean Casey.
No man has ever spoken to me like that before. Looked at me like that before. I can’t pin down exactly what it is about him, but there’s something that still has me buzzing, even as Jerry and I step out of the car and take the steps to the front door.
I’ve never even met him before, but it was like I already knew him. I was instantly comfortable around him–comfortable enough to spill my soul. I wanted to open up immediately and tell him everything about me. Because somehow, I knew he’d listen.
And it’s not like he looks like a professional therapist or anything. Not while standing there tall as a giant with that broad muscular frame, dirt-covered face, sharp jaw, raggedy work clothes, and muscular hands that looked like they’d never even touched a keyboard before.
He looked like a model who had sprung from the earth. I’m normally quite nervous to talk to men, but it was different with Casey. In fact, our conversation awakened something inside of me. A tingling between my legs that I feel even now.
“Ah, there she is! My sweet angel of a daughter!” my father proclaims as we enter the house. He greets us both in the foyer, dressed up for tonight’s family meal. “And her future husband, and my soon-to-be son-in-law!”
“Mr. Tuttle,” Jerry says, slightly bowing his head as they shake hands. The formality nearly makes me gag.
“Come in, come in!” He ushers us. “The meal is just now ready!”’
We follow Father into the dining room, which has been laid out by one of the several members of his staff that work the house. Jerry’s mother and father, Laura and Richard, are already seated. They greet us as we come in and take our seats, just as the chilled spring pea soup is brought out. I’ve told my dad countless times I hate cold soup appetizers, but he refuses to hear me. He likes it, so I guess that’s all that matters.
“Won’t it be wonderful, Richard? Once my daughter and your son are married in a wonderful union under God?”
Richard slurps down a spoonful of pea soup and grins. “It sure will, Reverend.” He glances at me with strange eyes that suddenly make me feel like I’m the next course to be served. “Have you two been getting along well, sweetheart?”
I struggle not to outwardly cringe.
“Um–”
“Everything’s been fine,” Jerry interrupts, squeezing my leg hard under the table. He shoots me a glance that basically tells me to keep quiet and not bring up today’s incident. All I want is to be done with this meal, so that works for me anyway.
“I just can’t wait to see what beautiful children she produces,” Laura chimes in.
That’s it. I just can’t keep my mouth shut.
“Produce?” I chuckle. “Do women… produce children? That sounds more like something insects do. Like what bees do when they produce honey.”
I look around the table for reactions, but nobody is laughing. Especially not my father, who is actively staring me down as though I just made a joke that will get me cancelled.
“Well,” Laura says slowly, “what word would you prefer, Michelle?”
I glance back at my father, whose eyes have not shifted.
Hell. That’s what this is. The first layer of hell. And the rest are soon to come.
“Never mind. Produce is fine.” I smile. “It was a joke. A bad one clearly.”
The meal continues. The rest of the courses are brought out, and I keep my head down and my mouth shut as much as I possibly can. The one thing keeps me distracted and my mind off just how awful all this is is thinking back to my conversation with Casey.
I wonder what he’s doing right now…
He’s definitely back at the site, working with his crew. But is he just swinging a hammer, pouring concrete and sawing some boards–or is he doing like I’m doing and thinking of me?
Did our conversation mean as much to him as it did to me?
A guy with looks like him, there’s no way he doesn’t pull lots of girls. And he had the confidence to come right up to me and start a conversation, so it’s not like he’s lacking in game.
Suddenly, I feel jealous, picturing other girls fawning all over him. I only saw him in work clothes, but I have no doubt he has a ripped physique under there.
And those thick hands of his. I can only imagine what it would be like to have them on my thighs instead of Jerry’s–
My God, what am I doing? I never have thoughts like this. I’m a reverend’s daughter! I’ve never even had a boyfriend before Jerry. And now I’m sitting at a family meal, fantasizing about a man I just met?
What’s gotten into me?