CHAPTER NINETEEN #3
I’d seen the way Corey’s dad shaped his life, and I was ready for him to see the way my dad shaped mine.
Especially now that he’d met my mum and brothers.
‘My asshole father? He walked out on us when I was four, right before the twins’ second birthday.
Mum quit her job to raise us, so it wasn’t exactly easy financially considering she had such a large gap on her résumé.
She had to start from the bottom of the corporate ladder again, and they never considered her for promotions because she’d need sick days to look after us sometimes.
Apparently, she ‘wasn’t committed enough to the company’, and they always gave them to men who had wives at home to care for their family.
She got a second job because she didn’t want us to miss things like team sports or music lessons, and they’re not exactly cheap.
I think the world’s come a long way since then, but not quite far enough. ’
Corey’s eyes widened. ‘Is that why you’re so hellbent on getting that promotion?’
I shuffled in my seat to face him, my gaze trying to convey how important these next words were to me.
He needed to understand why I could never accept how easily his life was handed to him, or the benefits it brings him.
Not when for someone like me, it’s a milestone I have to work my ass off for.
It’s the entire reason I am who I am. ‘I never want to rely on someone for anything. Ever.’
Tension loosened from my chest. I hadn’t realised how tight I’d been wound keeping that in until the words crawled from my mouth one by one. Corey twisted my face into an expression I’d used when I’d seen him help someone clean up a spill in the cafeteria months ago. Pure astonishment.
‘Nora—’ Laughter cut off his words, and he shook his head.
I threw my hands in the air. ‘It’s not funny to want to be independent.’
Not funny at all. My mother encouraged me to insist on equal treatment, not fall into the love, marriage, baby trap that sends women backwards in their careers, and always be responsible for my own finances.
Despite Hayley’s fairytale dream that occasionally crept into my mind, I’d clawed my way this far, and I wouldn’t back down now. Not that Corey had ever expected me to.
He stopped laughing and cleared his throat, but his signature smirk made its way onto my sweet face.
‘You’re right. It’s not funny to want to be independent, but it is funny that you think you wouldn’t be.
I mean, you could work part-time on minimum wage at a grocery store and I’m positive you wouldn’t need anything from anybody.
You’re amazing like that.’ He lowered his gaze from mine to stare at the floor of the car.
His words were twine, stitching us closer to an understanding, and my lips lifted in a small smile of appreciation. Not only did he understand, but he also saw me as so much more than I ever realised. I mean, he just praised me. Corey never saw me as a weak duckling. I was Mother Duck. Leader.
‘Thanks,’ I said. ‘The promotion would give me the raise I need for a better life. I’m pretty much living week to week at the moment. Especially because of rent prices.’
‘I didn’t realise.’
Neither of us moved from our seats, and I reflected on our conversation at the dinner table.
How long had my mother been thinking I should leave my job?
And Corey, what else did he think about my job?
My life? No one seemed to think I was doing the right thing at the right place, and now nothing about me was right and I couldn’t even fix it if I wanted to.
‘Do you really think I should leave my job once I get my body back?’ my voice rushed out like a bewildered cyclone destroying the calm.
Corey shrugged with his typical careless approach to life. ‘I think you should do whatever feels right for you.’
How could anything feel right when I was all wrong?
My arms were wrong, my legs were wrong, even my mind was wrong, and, annoyingly, I couldn’t stop thinking about Corey.
I thought about him during the day when we went to work, wondered how he slept, how he was coping with everything.
And not just because I cared about my job, but because he’d suffered enough in a job he didn’t seem to want.
Now he had to suffer through another job he didn’t want, and, even worse, one he probably considered worse than his own.
‘Corey?’ I turned to him, the stomach-crushing combination of peppermint and lemon weaving between us like threads stitching us together. My heart pounded; my mind turned to mush.
‘You look like you need some water. Come on, Paddy’s probably watching us from his window.’ Corey grabbed the bottle of red wine we’d bought down the road and climbed out, leaving me with a confusing mixture of emotions.
We needed to switch back, and soon. The more time I spent with Corey, the more I realised he wasn’t the person I’d imagined him to be. I’d already found myself caring for him more than I could handle.