Page 40 of Trophy
The words hurt so much—and terrified her too, since part of her was afraid they were true—that her eyes started to burn with tears. “You have no idea what I need or what I want. Now get out of here, and don’t come back again.”
He just shook his head and laughed some more as he walked to the front door. “Play your little game. Act like you can take care of yourself. We both know it can’t last forever.”
He didn’t even give her time to respond. He opened the screen door and strode back to his fancy car.
She slammed the front door and leaned against it, gasping as she tried to get herself back under control.
He was wrong.
He was wrong about her.
Only he wasn’t entirely wrong—and that was what hurt the most. Just look how she’d clung to Rob as soon as he’d offered her a strong shoulder.
She was still leaning against the door five minutes later, trying to convince herself to forget about Arthur and not let him ruin her evening, when there was a knock on the door behind her.
It startled her so much she squealed and jerked around. “I told you to go—” she began angrily, wrenching open the front door.
Rob stood on her front stoop holding a pizza box, with a bottle of wine under one arm, frowning at her in concerned confusion.
“Oh, I’m sorry!” she said, horrified when a couple of tears trickled out of her eyes. She opened the screen door for him and took the pizza from his hands. “I’m so sorry.”
Rob moved the wine bottle to his hand and stepped inside. He looked over his shoulder at the street, still frowning. “Who was that here before in the fancy car?”
She sniffed and tried to surreptitiously wipe away her tears. “That was Arthur.” She turned her back on Rob under the pretense of putting the pizza box on the counter.
He set down the wine bottle and then turned her around to face him. “He made you cry.”
She flicked away the last tear and tried to smile. “Not really. He was a jerk, of course, but it’s mostly because he always knows how to hit at my insecurities.”
Rob’s brown eyes were still sober. “What insecurities?”
“Oh, I don’t know. That I can’t do this—do life—on my own. That I’m not good for anything but being a trophy wife.”
With a rough sound in his throat, Rob pulled her into a hug. “You’ve already proved him wrong about that. It doesn’t matter what he says.”
“I know it doesn’t,” she said, turning her head so her face wasn’t buried in his shirt. “I just didn’t expect to see him tonight.”
“Well, let’s not let him ruin the evening.”
“I won’t.”
He stroked her back, and she felt a lot better. Until she suddenly heard Arthur’s voice in the back of her head, telling her that she’d always need a man to cling to and she’d eventually end up back in a strong man’s arms.
She was clinging to Rob now. Literally. In his arms. She was letting him hold her because he felt so strong and safe and solid. Maybe she’d just moved from Arthur to Rob, and nothing was really different.
She pulled out of the hug, giving Rob a sheepish smile. “Sorry about the dramatics.”
“It’s fine. He shouldn’t just show up at your house that way.”
“I know. I would have thought the long drive would have stopped him.”
“Anyway,” Rob said with a smile, “let’s not dwell on him. Are you hungry?”
She smiled back. “I am.”
They took their pizza and wine to the living room and ate on the couch. Rob told her about his day and hassles with several wrong deliveries all happening at the same time, and he ended up making Allison laugh.
She was genuinely enjoying herself when the pizza was gone and she was finishing her second glass of wine.
