Chapter Forty
GEMMA
Each day I wake up to an empty house, I’m relieved.
The last person I want to see first thing in the morning is Robert, but lately, I haven’t been so lucky.
While Robert lives in a beautiful house, the stark white walls make it feel like a prison.
I can’t believe I never noticed how much of a robot he is.
There’s nothing personal inside this four-thousand-square-foot home.
It’s a cookie-cutter version of all the others he’s built down to the interior design.
While it’s a nice place, it looks like it came from a magazine, and I hate it more than anything.
I want color on the walls, and my mother’s paintings splashed around my house.
There needs to be character and for it to look lived in.
Right now, I feel out of place as if I might break something, and that’s no way to live.
It’s obvious I’m just another item in Robert’s collection placed inside his pristine house.
After I get dressed, I walk into the kitchen where I find Robert drinking coffee at the table. The morning after the wedding he was up early to have breakfast with a client and was gone most of the day. Not surprising—he doesn’t know how to stop working.
When I glance in his direction, he’s wearing a grin as though he’s happy to see me, and I want to tell him to go straight to hell. But I’m trying to control my anger. The last thing I need is an argument before my coffee.
“Good morning, dear,” he sing-songs, indicating he wants to chat about something. This is typical of him, and I swear at this point, I can predict his next moves.
I grunt, grab a mug from the cabinet, and pour some cream before filling it to the top with liquid caffeine. I sit with my eyes barely open because I’ve slept like shit since I’ve been here.
“I wanted to explain my plans for the rest of the week so we’re on the same schedule.”
I take a big sip, thankful the creamer cooled it down enough to drink immediately. Impatiently, Robert waits for my reply, and I just glare. I never agreed to pretend to want to be with him, just that I would, so this is as good as it’s going to get.
“I have a new client that I’m meeting in Cedar Pines today.
Considering it’s five hours away and we have a lot of properties to view, I’ll be there for a couple of days.
I’ll be leaving this afternoon and won’t return until Thursday evening.
I’ll have no time to prepare for the honeymoon since our flight is early Friday, so you need to pack both of our bags. ”
He’s not asking, but rather he’s demanding it.
“Make sure to clean the house and do the laundry too. Just because your mother died when you were young and you weren’t taught the proper way to keep a household, that’s no excuse. I need to know you’re at least trying here, Gemma.”
“I’m sorry?” I finally ask, not ready to write down all the tasks he has for me.
It’s absolutely bullshit that he keeps bringing up my mother, and it infuriates me to the point of no return each time he does.
If my mother were here, I’m sure she would’ve warned me away from him.
Instead of answering, Robert goes back to his newspaper.
I’ve stayed here for less than a week, and he’s already treating me like a damn child.
He gives me zero credit and doesn’t respect the fact I’m still working full-time at the garage.
Maybe he should hire a maid since he has so much money.
Being his housewife who cooks and cleans up after him is time-consuming and disgusting.
Somehow, I’m supposed to magically make it all happen with a smile on my face. I’m no Disney princess.
“It’s a part of your duties.” He finishes reading an article, then looks at me. “Speaking of, when do you plan on quitting your job? I need specifics, no more being vague. We’ve already discussed this several times, and if you weren’t up there all day, you’d have more time to be here.”
“You’re such a sexist pig,” I mutter, tired of listening to this rhetoric.
“I didn’t hear your answer,” he snaps. “You know how I feel about you working there with Tyler. He’s a criminal.
And he basically forced you to be with him publicly,” he says, repeating the story he told people because Tyler and I were seen together at the Harvest Festival.
Robert still hasn’t gotten over it and hates that I’d rather be with an ex-convict than him.
“That’s a lie you made up, remember? Please tell me you don’t actually believe that because it’s not true.” I want to tell him to go fuck himself too, but I don’t.
“Doesn’t matter because he’s still a loser.” He scowls.
Somehow, I’m able to play it cool, though it’s too damn early for his games.
Maybe I’ve learned a thing or two from him manipulating me so much over the years.
Knowing I need to change my tone, I decide to answer him.
Or rather, give him the answer he needs to hear.
Not because I want to please him, but because I want to stop talking about this and enjoy my morning in silence.
“I’m planning to hire someone so I can train them after the honeymoon. Then I can leave without putting my father in a bind. I know you don’t care about any of that, but it’s important to me. So there’s the timeline you want so badly.”
“Fantastic,” he quips. “Oh, and my mother wants to have lunch with you tomorrow to discuss the thank-you notes that need to be written and mailed out. She’s very concerned about things being done in a timely manner, and considering we got so many gifts, it’s gonna take a while.
They should be sent before we leave on Friday. ”
I haven’t even opened any of the cards or presents, and they’re all still in the living room. When he treats me this way, it puts me in a bad mood for the rest of the day, which isn’t fair to any of the customers who come into the shop.
“What time tomorrow?”
“I believe she said eleven sharp at the café downtown,” he tells me.
I wouldn’t be surprised if Robert planned this because his parents adore me so much.
The deli is always busy during the week, so I’m sure he wants people to physically see me and his mother together.
I half wonder if they know how much of a monster their son is or he got those qualities from them.
Now that I think about it, it’s probably the latter.
“Okay,” I say. “Oh, also, don’t forget we’re supposed to have dinner at my dad’s house on Thursday at seven. He wants to wish us well before we leave for the honeymoon because I’ll be gone for ten days.”
Robert huffs. “Shit. I forgot about that.”
Of course he did. He’s only concerned about his plans, never the ones I had.
“It’s important to my father and me, so it’d be in your best interest to be there,” I say.
“Absolutely. I agree.” He grins, not realizing my dad knows the full story. “I’ll make sure to leave by two on Thursday so I can make it on time. If I’m gonna be a little late, I’ll text you. Never know how traffic will be.” Robert looks at the clock on the wall. “I’ve gotta go.”
He stalks to me and places a wet kiss on my forehead. I don’t react until he’s out of sight, but then I wipe it away as if it’s poison.
I’m actually grateful the next two days crawl by because it gives me time to make plans. It’s been nice not having Robert around, but I miss being home, in my bed, and seeing my mother’s paintings on the wall.
Thursday at work is uneventful and we’re slow, which gives me too much time to think about dinner tonight.
I won’t be happy until the food is cooked and Robert is sitting at the table.
When it comes to socializing with my friends or family, Robert tends to find a last-minute excuse to bail.
If I were to do that, he’d lose his shit, but if he does it, I’m supposed to accept it and move on.
The only reason I don’t think he’ll ditch tonight is because he wants to please my father and prove how perfect he is for me. Too bad Dad already knows the truth. Regardless, my adrenaline spikes thinking about us all being in the same room in a matter of hours.
After work, I think about how much I miss Tyler. We haven’t talked about even the most trivial things like the weather, donuts, or coffee. It’s been radio silence at the garage.
Before I go to my dad’s house, I stop by the grocery store and pick up a few steaks and ingredients for loaded baked potatoes.
It’s one of Dad’s favorite meals, so I thought I’d surprise him with it.
I even spent some time watching a few YouTube videos so I can prepare his ribeye just the way he loves it.
I’m not sure the last time Dad has had a proper sit-down dinner at home.
We eat breakfast together a few Saturdays a month, but nothing fancy.
As soon as I knock on the front door, Dad opens it wearing a big cheesy grin. I noticed he had enough time to shower after work and even changed clothes for the occasion.
“You’re wearing a polo?” I ask, not used to seeing him in a shirt with a collar. It’s bright blue and looks good on him, but it’s different, considering I see him in his uniform ninety percent of the time.
“You know how judgey Robert is.” He releases a sigh. My heart begins to race when he mentions his name. He’s on both of our shit lists right now. I bite my tongue and continue inside, trying to gather my courage. As soon as Robert arrives, I’ll be forced to put on a show of a lifetime.
Dad helps me unload everything, then I pull out a skillet, the butter, and the seasoning.
I even grabbed a loaf of garlic bread too.
As I turn on the flame, I take a deep breath and follow the directions I found online.
Once the potatoes are wrapped in foil and roasting in the oven, I place the steaks in the skillet.
The kitchen quickly fills with the delicious smells of spices, and my stomach grumbles even though I have no appetite. My nerves have replaced my need to eat.