Chapter Nineteen #2
When it came to things like school and jobs and work experience, he had a far better grasp of the possibilities than I did.
Marshalling the thoughts I'd had over the past few weeks, I said, "I think if I could do anything, I would go back to school and study something to do with business.
I don't know how I would go about it, but the one thing I always liked were the charity events I helped with.
I was very good at raising money. I know there are a lot of organizations out there that need help with funding, but I don't understand the finance side of it, and I think I would need to if I wanted to do it as a job instead of a hobby. "
Jacob studied me for a moment, the look in his eyes both relieved and approving.
"Emory's business school has a concentration in non-profit management. You'd have to finish your undergraduate, but you only had two years left, correct?"
"A year and a half. I'd finished my sophomore year when my father died, but I went to school over the summer, so my credits put me halfway through my junior year."
An unfamiliar lightness spread through my chest, a sense of anticipation and potential I hadn't known in years. Since my father had died, I'd felt essentially useless, unable to take care of both my mother and myself, as if all my life skills had no point.
I'd married John out of desperation and taken up the role my mother had held as a society wife, mostly feeling trapped and unhappy.
I'd dreamed of being a teacher, not one of the ladies who lunched. But I'd loved volunteering for the charity events we put together.
Many of the women saw them as nothing more than an opportunity to see and be seen at prime social events, but I'd enjoyed throwing parties whose sole purpose, in truth, was to separate wealthy donors from their money and use that money to help the less fortunate.
The art was to do it all in a way that made everybody happy.
Interrupting my thoughts, Jacob said, "I'm sure you would've made an excellent teacher, but I think this is a much better plan for you.
I remember the events you put together when you were married to John.
You managed to raise an obscene amount of money.
You have a knack for it, and that's a valuable resource to organizations in need of funding.
We'll look into what you need to do to transfer your credits over from State and finish your undergrad. "
My head was spinning, both from his compliments and his assumption that I would be pursuing this plan. Jacob was paying for my mother's care and had given me a credit card, but I didn't have any money.
Finishing college and going to graduate school were expensive. There was no way I was applying for student loans. I had enough financial obligation on my shoulders without adding more.
I was fairly sure the kind of job Jacob was talking about didn't pay a huge salary. Probably better than a kindergarten teacher, but I doubted it would be enough to cover my mother's fees, not to mention my living expenses and tuition while I finished my education.
This was why pretending was dangerous. I'd given Jacob my ideal situation, but my reality left me with no path from here to there.
"Jacob, I can't afford to—"
He cut me off with a shake of his head and a slash of his hand. I closed my mouth, knowing better than to argue with him when he was like this.
"Is this what you want to do?" he asked." If you could do anything, you said this is what you want."
I nodded. It was. It was also completely impractical and out of my reach.
"Then we'll do it," he said as if it were that simple. For Jacob Winters, it probably was. Part of me wanted to argue, to force him to admit that our situation was far more complicated and short-term than this conversation implied.
If I'd been feeling better, I would have.
I think. I don't know.
It was very hard to argue with Jacob when he was set on a course. It was a moot point because my stomach was full, my head was starting to hurt again, and I was exhausted from sitting up for the first time in days.
We could fight later. Now, I just wanted to go back to sleep for a while.
Jacob, satisfied he'd gotten his way, was more than happy to end the conversation, at least for the moment. He walked me back down the hall, leading me past my room and to his own.
"What—"
He interrupted me again. "The housekeeper is coming, and she hasn't been in your room in days. Take a nap here."
I was too tired to argue. I was well enough that I was sure I wouldn't get him sick, and his bed filled my vision, wide and tall and inviting. I let him peel the robe down my arms and usher me beneath the covers.
He stroked a loose strand of hair from my cheek and laid a soft kiss to the side of my mouth, saying, "Sleep tight."
He joined me in bed later, wrapping his warm body around mine, one arm tucked around my waist. I had the half-formed thought that I should go back to my own room, but it slipped away beneath the comfort of Jacob's body beside me and the weight of my exhaustion.
I slept late the next morning and awoke to a bowl of oatmeal on a tray in the living room.
I didn't like oatmeal that much, but I was hungry, and when Jacob shrugged and said, "I'm sorry it's instant. It's all I had," I ate it without complaint, touched that he'd made me breakfast himself.
The housekeeper showed up while I was eating, which was curious, because I'd thought Jacob had said she was coming the day before. That was his reason for moving me into his bedroom.
I didn't ask. He pressed the remote into my hand and said, "Why don't you watch TV for a while and see how you feel?"
I was bored with being sick, but not up for anything more energetic than lying on the couch. A few hours of mindless TV sounded perfect.
It was crazy how doing nothing more taxing than sitting upright and binge-watching do-it-yourself home improvement shows could tire me out, but by the time Jacob brought me a lunch tray with a bowl of chicken and dumplings and I'd eaten it, I was ready to go back to sleep.
Again, he directed me to his room. The housekeeper was long gone. I was in no shape to confront Jacob. I thought about just climbing into his bed and letting it work itself out later, but I didn't like the sense of confusion on top of being weak from sickness.
"I should sleep in my room," I said, coming to a stop outside my bedroom door.
Jacob's hand tightened on my arm, not enough to hurt, but in a strong grip that made it clear he wasn't planning to let go.
His jaw set, he glared at me, then said, "No. I've had your things moved to my room. From now on, you're staying with me."
"Jacob," I said, my voice too loud and too sharp. "I can't stay in your room."
Jacob swept me off my feet, settling me in his arms. Before I could struggle, he tightened his hold, keeping me still.
"Do you want to sleep alone?" he asked, his voice low and dangerous.
I wanted to lie.
I didn't.
"No, but it's inappropriate."
He laughed, surprisingly, and dropped a kiss on the top of my head. "It's too bad you're still sick, because it turns me on when you get all proper and dignified."
Mute with surprise and annoyance, I said nothing. Just before he tucked me into his bed, I mumbled under my breath, "It's not right, Jacob, and you know it."
He pressed his lips to mine and kissed me, one hand tucked beneath my jaw, lifting my face to his. I kissed him back, falling into his touch as I always did.
I'd missed his kisses while I was sick. I'd worried that after I was well, we would revert to our more formal arrangement of no kissing. Relief speared through me as I realize this would not be the case.
Then again, the fact that he'd moved me into his bedroom changed everything.
He pulled away slowly and whispered, "Abigail, whatever we want is right. I want you in my bed and my room. If you want to be here too, that's where you'll be."
With that, he left. I tried to examine his words, picking at them like a teenager with her first crush, trying to understand what he really meant and getting nowhere before sleep claimed me and my mind shut off.
I don't think I slept very long. No more than a few hours.
The sounds of voices woke me, low male voices talking over one another, at least one of them strident with anger. The thread of aggression in the muffled words sent adrenaline spiking through me, and I sat up in a rush, fighting off a wave of dizziness.
I looked at the clock. Just after four in the afternoon. I sat there for a minute, trying to decide what to do. I could hide in the bedroom, but I doubted Jacob would have let anyone dangerous into the penthouse.
I was tired of hiding. If Jacob wanted me to stay in his room, he'd come tell me. But if he didn't, I wasn't going to greet our company wearing my pajamas.