Page 87 of Fractured (Not Quite a Billionaire)
“I think—Ithought—that you’d be willing to listen, and to try. Because you love me, and you care that I’m happy.”
How did I answer that? The rules were, you didn’t ask a question unless you were pretty sure of the answer. You didn’t make yourself vulnerable to surprises. Unfortunately, Hope was nothing but surprises, and I was totally vulnerable to all of them.
“But you did so much more than that,” she said. “You told people not to hire me. I don’t even know how you did that, except I guess it’s what you said. Gossip. Spreading the word. All I know is, I went on an interview today, and she…she kicked me out without even talking to me.” Her voice wobbled on the words, and there were tears shining in her eyes that gave me another sharp kick of guilt straight to the guts as she went on. “And the other interview I had…they canceled. Nobody is going to hire me, are they? Nobody in fashion, and that’s all I know. And what I want to know is…” Another breath, a sharper one. “Why? I don’t understand. Why do you have to control me that much? Why would you sabotage me, if you really loved me?”
I started to answer, then stopped. She was still standing there, and I couldn’t…I stood up, and she backed up a step. Just a step, but I saw it. I leaned against the table instead of holding her the way I wanted to and told her, “I didn’t want you to go someplace else.” That didn’t sound too good, even to myself. “I thought you’d be better off here, and you were acting so…” In trouble again. “Well, yeh, there are a few people who may not have adjusted to your being here yet, but I knew it was just a matter of time. I was trying to protect you from making a…rash judgment.”
There. That sounded better.
Maybe not, because she said, “First I was childish, and now I’m irrational? Why the hell do you want to marry me, then? I don’t sound like a prize.”
“Don’t swear,” I said. “And stop getting hysterical. That isn’t going to help.”
That didn’t work either, because her chest was rising and falling, her breath coming fast. “I will swear if I damn well want to. I’m not…a…child,and you’re not my father.”
“No.” If it came out as a growl—well, I couldn’t help it. I was out of patience. For everything. “But I can still give you a spanking.”
She didn’t back off a bit. She came closer, until she was toe to toe with me. “Do not,” she said, “mistake what I’ll do in bed with you for what I’ll do at any other time. I am not that woman. I am an adult, and I want you to talk to me like an adult.”
“We’ll do it tonight,” I said. “When you’ve calmed down.” And when I had. When I could think.
She looked at me for another long moment while the silence stretched out, thick and heavy.
I wanted to kiss her. I wanted to hold her. I wanted to…to do everything, to bury all the worry and the trouble in her. She was my oblivion, couldn’t she see that? She was my refuge and my reward, and if that slipped away, too…
I couldn’t talk about this anymore. I couldn’t think about it. I was very nearly out of control, all the threads sliding from my grasp, and I needed to get back on the right side of the line fast.
Whyhadn’tI told her? Because I’d been afraid of what she’d say. What she’d do.
No. I didn’t lie to myself, and I didn’t hide from necessary evils, but I’d done both, because I’d wanted her too much.
Tell the truth.Because I’d been afraid I’d lose her.
“Fine,” she said, while I was still trying to work out how to deal with all of it, and nowhere near an answer. “I’ll tell Josh we’re done.” And then she turned and walked out.
Right, then. Right. I’d finish the meeting, because that was the next thing, and you always did the next thing. I’d put out the rest of the fires. And then I’d deal with this one. I’d do…whatever. Something. I’d sort it out.
Tonight. When I had time.
Hope
By the time I got home, I’d sweated through my blouse in the July heat, developed a bad blister on two toes on my left foot from my new shoes, which hadn’t been made for walking, and found a new way for my shoulder to ache from carrying my laptop bag.
I’d also quit my job. I’d headed straight from Hemi’s conference room to Simon’s office and had told him so.
“I’m figuring,” I’d said, “that my staying through a two-week notice would be awkward for Hemi and the company both, not to mention for you. And for me, of course. There’s that. Thank you for everything, and I’m sorry.”
“Uh…no problem,” he’d said, completely unable to hide his relief. “But if you need a reference…I mean, not that you’d need a reference. But I’d be happy to, of course.”
“You would?”
He’d looked surprised himself. “Well, sure. Why wouldn’t I?”
“I never thought that you were impressed with my work, let’s say,” I’d figured I might as well say it. Not like I had anything to lose anyway.
“I told you I was. You’re fast, and you don’t make mistakes. What else is there?”
“Oh. Well, thanks.” It was one heck of a time to find that out, but on the other hand, I felt better at this moment, when I was quitting, than I had all day. “I’ll take you up on that. It’ll help.”
