Page 42 of The Thorne at My Side
"I'm sorry, Allegra, I've got an early morning so I'm going to head back."
She sits up straight and scoffs.
"Seriously Austin? Why did I even come here tonight? You've barely made conversation, you're not excited about my business," she pauses and her eyes widen. "Is that because you don't want your wife to work?"
"What?" I cough out with a laugh.
"I asked if you're being dismissive of my clothing line because you don't want to marry a woman with a job. You want a little housewife. A country club darling to just sit and drink long island iced teas in tennis whites while gossiping about all the other little wifeys they're friends with."
"You paint a pretty clear picture there Allegra but no, I'm notthinking that."
"Sure you're not," she replies indignantly.
"Allegra, I can assure you, I was not thinking about marrying you. When I do get married I want a partner, a teammate, someone who is interested in me, not just my last name.” I stand and watch her face turn to surprise at my outburst. I button my suit jacket and lean in. “And she will be the one to decide if she continues to work or not.”
I puff up my chest and walk away. It feels like TalkShopGirl would be proud of me for walking away and not engaging further. I slip the hostess my card and tell her to call Elizabeth to pay the bill and then I push myself out the door to the slightly chilly night air.
As I climb into the car my mind switches gears to Maggie. My body comes alive as I’m thinking about her lips. Then I picture her eyes and remember her impassioned speech that compelled me to get down on my knees in front of her.The way she got fired up about women running businesses got me harder than any foreplay has before. Maybe it's the work adversaries dynamic but she calls me on my shit and makes me think. No woman has done that before. My palms itch to press into her soft curves. Instead I pick up my phone.
AUSTIN:We didn’t establish this but is our arrangement exclusive?
Not that I’m considering sleeping with anyone else. Actually, I’m more concerned she might be. Senator Quinn’s team is traveling tomorrow, does she have someone to help relieveher stress on the road?
MAGGIE:It absolutely is Austin. I’m not okay being one of many.
What a cute, and quick, response. I smirk as I reply.
AUSTIN:I love when you get jealous.
MAGGIE:Shut up.
AUSTIN:Don’t worry MC, my physical therapy services are all yours.
AUSTIN:I’m like a ginormous Theragun that also brings treats.
MAGGIE:Ignoring you now.
I laugh as I picture Maggie’s eye roll. She’s too easy to rile up.
The shock in her voice when she asked why I brought coffee was worth the stop. I don’t know exactly what prompted me to bring coffee and flowers but it was probably Mom’s insistence that you never show up empty handed.
And I’ve had to show up to a lot of places over the years. It started when I was a star swimmer in high school and Dad realized having me at his side at parties humanized him. People saw him as a doting father when I can count on one hand the number of meets he came to. Mom and I started being his plus ones at backyard BBQs or informal lunches. Then in college he invited me to cocktail parties and business lunches. I realize now what I didn’t at the time, he was grooming me to be just like him.
By the time I graduated I could walk into a room of his colleagues and be recognized.
That’s one downside to being a Thorne. There are many, butthe one that bothers me the most is that people only seem to want me for my last name. They only want to know me to get closer to Dad. A lot of women only want the attention that comes with being seen with me. That dynamic becomes abundantly clear when I would rather stay home from a party and they say "well I'm going and it'll look bad if you're not with me".
It's in those moments that I get dressed, go to the event because I’m polite, get pictured with her on my arm, and then within a few days make sure Elizabeth has arranged for all of the little things girls leave around my apartment to be packed and left in the lobby.
It was fortuitous that I saw an ad for SMS Connect the morning after Allegra brought up the prospect of marriage. I remember feeling relief that finally I'd have the chance to meet someone who was interested in everything besides my face and last name.
As I let myself into my apartment I see that the lights are off which means Elle is either not home or already in bed. I make my way to my room and after changing into my Ron Dorff sweats, I pull out my SMS Connect phone.
With an arm propped up behind my head I start to scroll through the messages TalkShopGirl and I have exchanged.
Arousal spikes as last night’s notes dance across the screen.
But I keep going back into our history, all there in front of me. I find myself laughing quietly when she's describing how she has a love-hate relationship with dairy.
