Chapter 32
No
Am I saying it out loud? I need to be.
“No,” I say.
“Absolutely not.”
“Gabby, wait—” Lincoln starts, following me as I head for the door, still holding the kitten, completely forgetting I’m still holding the kitten.
“This is low, even for you, Link,” I say.
“Can you just hear me out?” he asks.
“Hear you out for what? Oh my God, did you know it was me when you messaged me?” I turn around fast, looking right at him.
“Of course I knew it was you,” he answers.
“Then why didn’t you tell me that?” I demand.
“Because I knew you would say no,” he says, like it’s the simplest, most obvious thing in the world.
“And you don’t understand why?” I ask.
Lincoln releases a sigh. “I know we have a rough past—”
“A rough past?” I cut in with a scoff. “Lincoln, oh my God, I don’t even know what to say to you right now. Stop. I don’t need your help.”
Lincoln laughs.
I spin around, confused, wondering what the hell is so funny.
He doesn’t answer immediately. He just shakes his head. “You’re so freaking stubborn. That you’ll be begging for help, and when it lands right in front of your face, you still refuse to take it.”
I give him a sinister smile. “Yeah, well that’s because I’ve learned not to trust so easily. Thank you for that lesson, by the way.”
Still walking toward the door, I hear him say:
“I’ll increase your pay to 50 an hour. Or 70.”
I stop in place.
He must be joking.
When we were married, Lincoln was the one paying a very big portion of my father’s medical bills. Daddy is the only parent I have left. He’s important to me.
And because of that, he was important to Lincoln too, even if they were never close. Honestly, Lincoln didn’t think Daddy would last this long.
But he’s still kicking. And Lincoln knows I’m still taking care of him.
“How’s Bruce doing?” he asks.
My whole body freezes. I know he notices.
“He’s fine,” I say. “As fine as he can be anyway. That’s none of your concern anymore. And for the record, he doesn’t like you.”
Lincoln smiles. “I can’t imagine why.”
Okay, this sarcasm and joking bullshit he thinks is cute needs to stop. Maybe it was funny when we were together, but it sure as shit isn’t funny now.
I roll my eyes and turn toward the door again.
“How much do you need?” Lincoln asks.
It makes me stop again.
“From you?” I ask. “Nothing.”
“Well,” he starts, stepping slowly closer, “I did need someone to clean up and to look after Morris so he’s not alone.”
“Get another cat,” I say.
“Yeah, but I don’t want two cats,” Lincoln replies. “I didn’t see myself as a twofer with cats. I only want one pet that I can pour all my love into. We both know I can’t handle two pussies at once.”
What the fuck.
He has this stupid smile on his face, like he thinks he just said something hilarious.
God. The fucking cringe.
This time, I step out the door.
“Wait,” he says, rushing out and getting in front of me.
“Get out of my way, Lincoln.”
“Wait—” he says again, holding up his hand. “I’m sorry. I’m just really fucking nervous.”
And I can tell he means it. The confident tech bro he plays on camera, especially when he’s standing next to Sarah, that guy is gone. In this moment, he has absolutely zero confidence.
Good. He shouldn’t.
He knows I want nothing to do with him, and he really did trap me into this. Who does he think he is?
“What are you nervous about?” I ask.
“Look,” he starts, “I know we’re never getting back together, and I’m not asking you to, and this isn’t some ploy to do that. I promise you. I really do need someone to clean while I’m away, and more so to look after Morris.”
I smile sarcastically.
“And so you can spy on me while I’m in your house, right? With all your cameras?” I say, pointing vaguely around his house, waving my finger before putting my hand on my hip.
“I only had the cam—” He takes a breath. “I only had the cameras there to watch Morris.”
“Well, there you go,” I say. “You already have a way to watch him. So why do you need me?”
“Because I do need someone to do a few chores around the house. Look, if you don’t want the job, fine. I just figured you need a place to work after what happened. And I kind of sort of feel like it’s my fault. And to be honest, I trust you more than anyone to sit in my house.”
“What? You don’t trust your precious Sarah?” I ask, full snide.
Lincoln looks at me sheepishly.
“As dumb as this sounds, no, I don’t. Not when it comes to my house and my cat.”
I stare at him.
I really, really need the money.
And right now, everyone is stonewalling me.
I turn fully to face him.
“If I was going to say yes… I don’t want to be in that house if Sarah’s in there.”
“She doesn’t live with me,” he says immediately.
“Really?” I ask, skeptical.
“She doesn’t live with me,” he confirms.
“Does she come here at all?” I ask.
“Only when I invite her,” he says.
“And how often is that?” I push.
Lincoln pauses, studying me.
He bites his bottom lip, then looks at the floor.
“How much of our private lives do you expect us to share, Gabrielle?” he asks, a little more firmly.
Embarrassment sweeps through me.
He’s right.
If he asked me about my private life, he wouldn’t get a single answer.
So why am I demanding his?
“I don’t care about your private life,” I lie.
“But if I’m going to be working at your house, I need to know who’s going to have the keys and access to it.”
“Nobody has the keys or access to my house but me,” he assures me.
“How am I supposed to know that, Lincoln?” I fire back. “You’re a liar. You do that quite well. So much to the point where you don’t even realize you’re doing it.”
Lincoln straightens up, his expression going dark.
He takes a deep breath.
“Look. If you don’t want the job, say you don’t want the job and keep it moving. I’m talking to you right now as your potential boss, not your ex-husband. As you said, we have nothing to do with each other. So, I get it. I hurt you a long time ago and you moved on. So did I.”
The moment he says that, something in me sparks, like someone struck a match right against the dry tinder in my chest.
“I need something from you and you need something from me. And that’s all this boils down to. It doesn’t have to be complicated. I’m not gonna fuck you. This doesn’t have to be that. And I assure you, I promise you, I will not touch you. I don’t deserve that. Even if I wanted to.”
“So you don’t want to?” I ask.
Lincoln goes still. A shadow crosses his face.
“As we both know, Gabby, I’m a dog. I cheated on you.
So clearly, I’m meant to fuck whatever’s in front of me, right?
If it’s offered. And for me to have done that to you?
You’re right. I couldn’t have cared about you that much.
Even when I try to convince myself that I did.
And I think I’m bad for you and we’re bad for each other in general. ”
My eyes narrow.
“So I don’t want to put you through that ever again. And I don’t want to go through that. I’m not looking for a relationship.
I’m not lonely and thirsty for sex. I’m very busy. So you don’t have to worry about me pursuing you.
And half the time, I’m not gonna be home anyway,” Lincoln concludes.
If he meant this as some kind of reassurance, he failed miserably. All he managed to do was punch my already fragile self-esteem right through the floor and into the toilet.
But the one good thing is that he said he won’t be pursuing me.
I’d be lying if I said I didn’t feel something ugly twist inside me.
Some disappointment.
Some pathetic little ache.
I want him to want me.
But clearly he doesn’t. Of course he doesn’t.
He wouldn’t have cheated if he truly wanted me.
“$65 an hour,” I say.
“All right,” Lincoln answers without hesitation.
Then he starts listing off the chores he has for me. After he’s done, I ask,
“How long—I mean, how many hours do you want me working?”
Lincoln thinks for a minute. “I was hoping that you would be here until I get home.”
“Okay. When are you home?” I ask.
“On the weekdays, late in the evenings. Around 10 p.m. Sometimes I try to make it home to feed Morris, but we’re doing a lot of work, a lot of overtime.”
“I know you love those,” I snark, staring at the ground.
Lincoln says nothing. Probably annoyed.
Good.
“Yeah…” Lincoln breathes out.
Then he adds, “I’ll be home on the weekends. Early evening on Saturday, and I’m off on Sunday. And if I need you for extra time or whatever, I’ll be glad to pay you overtime as well.”
“So I’m gonna be here most of the time, it seems,” I say.
Lincoln inhales again. “Yeah… about that. I didn’t want to overstep or make you uncomfortable, but based on the hours and how much I’m paying you, and based on your situation, I figured it would be advantageous for both of us if you just—” he pauses, “—lived here.”
I just stare at him. My brain stops working entirely.
“You mean be a live-in nanny?” I ask.
“A house sitter,” he corrects.
“But if that makes you uncomfortable, it’s totally understandable. I can also pay for your commute,” he adds.
I think. Hard.
If I didn’t have to worry about rent, that would be incredible.
But what if things didn’t work out?
What if he fired me?
“One thing I gotta ask,” I say.
“Shoot,” Lincoln says.
“If I get fired for whatever reason—”
He cuts me off. “Are you planning to get fired?”
“No, but things happen, obviously, as you are well aware. So if that does happen, or Sarah or whoever is no longer comfortable with this arrangement—”
Lincoln cuts me off again. “It’s not up to Sarah what happens with my house. Like I said, we don’t live together.”
The curiosity is too strong. I can’t help it.
“I’m sorry… are you guys not a couple?”
Lincoln hesitates.
He just stares at me.
No words.
Just that stoic expression he gets when he’s cornered or when he genuinely has nothing to say.
Why the hell is he doing that?
He only makes that face when he’s caught. Which means one of three things:
He doesn’t know if they’re in a relationship…
Or one of them thinks they are and the other doesn’t…
Or he doesn’t want to hurt my feelings and ruin whatever the hell this… arrangement… is supposed to be.
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