30. Chapter 30
Nate
Ikeep in touch with Mihi throughout the day, but she’s uncharacteristically cagey.
I saw Grace leave the house on the cameras and I figured—correctly—that she’d go next door.
What I didn’t predict was Mihi keeping my wife all day long and refusing to tell me what they were doing together.
I can guess, of course: it’s still lambing season, so they’re likely checking the flocks and supporting the ewes, but it’s one thing to assume, and another to know.
Grace might not realise it, but she found the perfect way to punish me for leaving.
By going next door and helping Mihi, Grace has ensured that I can’t reprimand her for leaving, and that I know exactly how much time she’s spent with someone else while I’ve been gone.
I’d intended to arrive home to a lonely woman filled with remorse.
Now, as I drive too fast down the narrow northern roads, I know I’ll get home to a woman who’s put in a full, hard day of work with her close friend.
For the best, I tell myself.
And it is. It’s good that Grace has someone like Mihi to turn to when I have to leave the house.
Having spent the day cleaning up all the messes in the office, I know I’ll need to go in more often.
At least once per week. Dare has done a great job for someone with virtually no executive experience, but the reality is that his cousin was hardly trained before he stepped into Nick’s role, and the office manager has been overdrawn all month long.
I sigh, pulling into one of the sideroads that’ll take me home.
The worst aspect of owning the company is dealing with clients, which I used to foist off on Nick.
At least the lease renewal was done quickly, and won’t need to be dealt with for another year.
I tap the car’s console for the fifth or sixth time since I started driving, calling the house’s landline.
Like every other time, the phone rings until the answering service kicks in.
Grace is home. I watched her arrive on the camera feed over an hour ago.
This is a blatant refusal to engage with me, and I add it to the list of issues to be addressed tonight.
I let myself consider the worst moment of the day, the one that marked this test of leaving Grace to herself an utter failure.
Almost immediately after I left, she went on her socials and unblocked Constance Fucking Reid.
I caught the notification from my spyware, but not before the Munchausen bitch reached out.
Grace will have seen that initial message, and I know for a fucking fact that I’ll have to re-establish the dynamic I’ve worked hard to set in my marriage.
I put my foot down to speed the car up, well over the limit. I need to get myself home, grab Grace, and hold her tight until the entire world falls away.
A few kilometers from home, I pull over and force myself to breathe.
I need to calm down. It’s no good arriving in this state.
I know better than to discipline Grace in anger, even if my anger is justified.
I need to get to the heart of the situation, not vent my reaction to it.
Today is proof, beyond what I’ve tried to ignore, that she is not my wife in full, and that she doesn’t understand her obligations under my care.
The cool evening air steadies my hands and clears my head. I get back in the car, no longer angry. Instead, I’m determined. She needs my care and my love, and I’m going to bring her both.
The house is dark when I pull up. The outdoor floodlights ignite and Shep races to greet me as I step out of the car. At a quick hand signal, he backs off, tail between his legs. He whines but I ignore him, walking up to the front door, which I find unlocked.
Of fucking course.
“Grace?” I call into the house, not bothering to take off my shoes.
I put down my laptop case and head inside.
I didn’t see her leave on the cameras, but there’s no answer when I call for her again.
I check the bedroom, the office, then the gym.
No Grace. Cursing under my breath, I head to the other end of the horseshoe, where I find her in the reading nook, legs tucked up underneath a throw blanket, a book open on her lap.
“Grace.”
She turns a page as I watch, deliberately refusing to look up. My anger spikes but I contain it, peering into her lap to see what she’s reading. A battered copy of The Secret Garden that must have come in one of the boxes from Dunedin.
I pluck the book from her hands.
“Hey,” she says, finally meeting my eyes. “Give that back.”
I let myself smile. “Don’t you want to say hello to your husband after he’s had a long day at work?”
She reverts to silence, her expression closing, and I can’t fucking have it. I drop the book onto the coffee table behind me and stand over her. She still won’t look at me.
“You’ve not been a gracious girl for me today. In fact, you’ve been downright difficult. Let’s go over your transgressions, shall we?”
That finally sparks a reaction. Grace gets to her feet, an angry twist to her mouth.
“Let’s talk about this morning, when you took my phone and forced me to stay home. How about we talk about those transgressions, eh?”
Oh, the little…
I’m about to answer when Grace ducks around me, clearly intending to scoop the book off the table. I grab her arm from behind, and The Secret Garden falls face-down on the floor, the spine cracking.
“Fuck—Nate! That’s my dad’s old copy. It’s one of the only things I have from before he died. God, you’re unbelievable.”
Grace picks up the book, the spine flapping open to reveal the stitches inside. I suppress a pinch of regret at damaging one of her few treasures.
“We’ll have that fixed.” I take it from her gently, passing my fingers over the damage before setting it on a high shelf.
“In fact, I’ll look into getting it professionally restored.
There’s a place in Auckland that specialises in antique books.
For now,” I take her by the wrist, “we need to have a talk, you and me. In the bedroom.”
I pull her towards the corridor. When she digs in her heels, I scoop her up into a fireman’s carry, my hands gripping her thighs from behind.
“Goddamn it, Nate!” she snarls.
“Keep running that mouth,” I murmur, “let it all out now while you still can.”
That shuts her up, and I carry her the rest of the way to the bedroom in silence. Snapping the door shut behind us, I set Grace down next to the bed. She bites her lip, hands clenched at her sides.
“We’ll add cursing to our list,” I say, placing myself between Grace and the rest of the house. “Your behaviour has been very disappointing today.”
She glares at me. “You don’t get to tell me how to behave. And I’ve not done anything except push back on you for being a—”
She cuts herself off with a bite to her lip. I see the way her flesh whitens, then reddens. I stalk closer.
“I'm a what?” I demand. “Say it, Grace. Come on, now. You were very confident calling me names this morning. I remember what you said. Do you?”
“You can’t just,” she cuts a hand between us, “force me to stay home on a whim, Nate! And then pretend like I’m the one in the wrong!”
Rather than enhancing my anger, Grace’s accusations ground me, reminding me of everything we need to go over in full.
“Are you going to pretend that unblocking your mother on your socials wasn’t wrong?”
She has the temerity to raise her chin. “As if you get to make that choice for me.”
“I do,” I say, “because that’s our arrangement.
You’ve forgotten, but I haven’t: I am your husband, Grace, and that means I protect you, especially from yourself.
And when I leave you at home for your own good, I expect to find you exactly as I left you.
Not trying to reach out to your psycho-bitch of a mum, and not tramping through the hills with the lambs. ”
Her expression freezes and I wait for what might come next, wondering if I’ve actually found the hard edge of Grace’s limits.
“So, let me see if I’ve got this right,” she says, her voice cool and shaking. “Not only do you expect to leave me at home like a dog, you also take issue with me using the time to help Mihi with the lambing. Are you fucking serious?”
I step forward until she’s backing up. Her eyes widen with fear, the pupils dilating deliciously. She stumbles into the bedside table, scraping the thing along the wall, but I don’t let up. I corner her, then reach out a gentle hand to cup her cheek.
“Ask me again if I’m serious, little girl.”
Even in her defiance, she’s trembling. Her body understands what her mind doesn’t: she’s already lost this fight.
“Don’t call me that,” she whispers.
“It’s what you are when you’re being disobedient, Grace.
You’re my silly little girl, standing up for all the wrong things.
But let’s just make this very clear, before we move on to your punishment: when I leave you safe at home, I expect you to stay at home.
Safe and sound and mine. No unblocking your mother.
No leaving the house. Especially not without your phone. ”
Her mouth opens and closes before she finally explodes. “YOU TOOK MY FUCKING PHONE, YOU ASSHOLE!”
“And I’ll take it again next time, if you give me trouble. And, just so now we’re both very clear: no phone means no leaving the house, no contacting your mother. Oh,” I let my hand drift to the nape of her neck, “and you’re going to stop calling me names right fucking now.”
“I’ll call you whatever I want,” she answers, but I see the way she licks her lips. “Especially when it’s the truth.”
I’m gaining no ground here. Time to change tactics.
Taking a long step back, I give Grace a bit of breathing room, tucking my hands behind my back. I’m still between her and every point of retreat, but I need her to calm down so she can finally hear me.
“You are going to promise not to talk to your mother, Grace. Forget everything else for now: I need you to understand how dangerous that was. We’ve worked hard to undo what that woman did to you.
Contacting her—no matter how mad you are at me—is never the right call.
Do you agree?” She shrugs, but I see the way her posture has loosened up a bit.
“Good. We agree that’s never an acceptable choice. ”
“I…” she lets out a breath, running one hand through her hair. “Fine. It was the wrong choice.”
“And do you agree that you deserve punishment for your transgressions today?”
She scoffs, shaking her head. “If I deserve punishment, then so do you!”
“Oh, I’ve had mine.” That catches her attention properly.
Grace stares at me, her mouth open a little.
“Are you going to pretend you’ve not been punishing me?
You knew what you were doing, going where I couldn’t keep track of you properly, refusing to answer my calls, then ignoring me when I finally got home.
We both know you were punishing me—and that’s fine.
I’ll admit I could have handled you better today.
And now it’s your turn. Come here. I’m going to make you into my gracious girl again. ”
Her cheeks redden. “What the fuck does that even mean?”
“It means I’m going to remind you who you married.”
That gets another scoff, accompanied by a contemptuous sneer. I feel my heart rate go up.
“You forced me to marry you, you fucking brute.”
She throws the final word at me like a rock she had ready, hidden in her palm for the perfect moment.
“And there it is,” I say, relishing the epithet. It’s the perfect fulcrum for this moment. “You need this more than I thought, if you think calling me names is going to get you off the hook.”
“And you need a reality check, if you think I’m going to accept any kind of punishment from you! I’m not a child, Nate!”
I step right up close, my hands still tucked behind my back.
“You’re worse than a child,” I murmur. “You’re a silly little thing who refuses to accept the correction you’re desperate for.
But you’re going to, Grace. Because you need it and,” I let heat lower my voice, enjoying how she can't look at me now, “I think you knew exactly what I’d bring home, and that you fucking want it. If I’m wrong,” I lace my fingers into her hair, “then I’ll just have to make you want it, like I always do. ”