Page 39 of Trophy
Rob must have thought she was crazy.
But things were settled between them now. He’d seemed quite happy at the end of the conversation, like he was getting exactly what he wanted. And now she could relax and enjoy his company.
Maybe Vicki was right. Maybe she could just have a little fun while she was here and not worry about it just being temporary.
Rob didn’t seemed worried.
All in all, she was in a good mood when she came back from work. She had a couple of hours before Rob would get off work for the day, so she did some laundry, changed the sheets on her bed, and cleaned the kitchen and bathrooms.
She was settling down to work on a bracelet before he arrived when there was an unexpected knock on her door.
She glanced at the clock in surprise. It was barely six. Rob usually worked until five thirty or six, and he had said he was going to pick up a pizza, so she hadn’t expected him until six thirty at the earliest.
She was smiling as she opened the door, but her smile froze on her face when she saw who was standing there.
Arthur. In one of his expensive suits. With a familiar arrogant smirk on his face. Holding a small cardboard box. His dark blue Mercedes was in the driveway.
She couldn’t do anything but stare for an embarrassingly long time.
“Well?” he demanded after a minute. “Am I to be invited in?”
And that gave her back her voice. “What are you doing here?”
“I brought over the jewelry accoutrements that you left at home. I thought perhaps you’d want them.” He nodded down toward the box of the more expensive items she’d purposefully left behind, as if he was being patient with her dimness. “May I come in?”
She cleared her throat, mostly to stall for time. “I guess.” She stepped aside to let him in, deeply wishing he was back in Charlotte or that she hadn’t opened the door. “Why didn’t you just send the stuff over to me? It’s a long drive just for that.”
“Is it beyond the realm of possibility that I would want to see how you’re doing?”
She took the box from him and placed it on a chair in the dining room. The card table was covered with her jewelrymaterials. “Yes,” she replied to his question. “It really is beyond the realm of possibility. I thought we said everything we had to say to each other.”
“We were married for eight years.”
“And we both know how that turned out.” She suddenly remembered what Vicki had told her about Arthur thinking she would crawl back to him. He must have wondered why she hadn’t. He must have wanted to see her life so he could confirm how unhappy she was and when she’d be returning to her cushy position as his wife.
A surge of anger overwhelmed her, momentarily blurring her vision. He’d come to judge her life. He’d come to show her what she was missing.
“I hadn’t expected this house to be so…” Arthur trailed off, his eyes scanning over the simple furnishings, the remaining emptiness of most of the walls and the corners of the dining room and living room, the outdated kitchen, the rickety card table that was passing for her work desk. “Depressing,” he concluded.
She stiffened her spine. “It’s not depressing. It’s very comfortable, and I’m much happier here than I was with you.”
“You can’t mean that.” He eyed her with that familiar patronizing expression, as if he were speaking to someone much younger and less intelligent than him.
“I do mean that. I’ve been doing really well here, and I’m quite happy.”
He shook his head. “You’re not made for small-town living. I understand you wanting to prove a point, but there’s really only so far you should take it.”
She was so angry her teeth almost snapped at him. “I’m not proving a point—certainly not to you. This is my life now, and I’m happy in it. I can make my own decisions. I can plan my own future. I can do what I want with my time. I don’t always have toworry about tiptoeing around your idiosyncrasies. I don’t have to feel like I’m always under the thumb of a spoiled, selfish, domineering asshole.”
Arthur didn’t show any anger. He never had. He just scanned her from head to toe with an icy distance, as if he noticed every flaw in her appearance, every insecurity in her soul.
She’d gained about five pounds since she’d divorced him because she didn’t have time to work out like she used to. Today after work she’d wanted to look cute for Rob but not like she was trying too hard, so she’d changed into a pair of soft blue leggings and a pale gray tunic top a little nicer than the one she’d worn the day before. Her hair was loose and hanging down around her shoulders, and she didn’t have on much makeup.
Arthur probably thought she looked terrible, like her appearance was a sign that she’d been going downhill since she left him.
It didn’t matter. She told herself it didn’t matter. “You don’t get to control me anymore.”
He gave his smug little laugh—the one she hated the most. “You don’t understand yet, do you? That’s what you want. Someone to control you. You’ve always been too soft and clingy. You need a man to take care of you. You’ll realize that soon enough, and you’ll end up right back in a strong man’s arms.”
