Page 83 of Misrule
He huffed out a breath. “Don’t ignore the fucking issue. Address the subject. I want to hear what you have to say.”
She shook her head, stubborn as usual. “I’m moving on from the conversation,” she said, tossing her hair over her shoulder. “How was your day?” she asked, folding her arms as if daring him to challenge her change of subject.
He wanted to clear the air between them, have the conversation that laid everything on the line. But he knew it wouldn’t be tonight. As usual, she wanted her way and was digging her heels in. Fuck, but she was childish and annoying.
He drew in a deep breath to calm himself, deciding to find something positive in the conversation. Besides, if he wanted to be completely honest, her question pleased him. She seldom asked about his day. “It was long,” he admitted.
“Meggie invited me to the family dinner tomorrow,” she told him, not commenting on his answer, as if it didn’t matter to her and had only served her own selfish purposes. “If you don’t want me there, I’ll stay home.”
“I have no problem with you being there, sweetheart,” he said gruffly, hating her uncertainty. That same primitive feeling of possession and the need to protect her returned. He wanted to take her in his arms and shield her, kiss her from head-to-toe and lose himself in the ecstasy of her body. But they needed more than a physical relationship. They needed openness and honesty. They needed trustworthiness. “Even if I did, Megan invited you. It isn’t my house. All I ask is that you leave CJ alone.”
A guilty look crossed her face. “What do you mean?”
“You don’t like that child.”
She wrinkled her nose. “I’m sure I won’t see him, Johnnie. He’ll be too busy playing with the other kids. Besides, I’ll have a chance to spend more time with Rory, Matilda, and JJ.”
“Right. Focus on our children. Don’t concern yourself with what CJ does.”
She nodded, then shifted and clasped her hands together. “I haven’t eaten,” she said. “Have you? I have leftover black bean salad. Enough for both of us.”
“Sounds delicious,” Johnnie said, meaning it. “I’m starving, so your offer is quite welcome.”
She glanced at him through her lashes. “I’d like to offer you something else.”
His cock perked at the thought of taking Kendall, but his brain rebelled. “Let’s stick to dinner and drinks tonight.”
“Of course,” she said coolly, then brushed past him.
“Kendall,” he said, following behind her.
Stopping, she stiffened her shoulders, but didn’t turn. “Yes?”
“I want to have dinner with you. Enjoy your company, but I’m not dealing with your damn attitude. Either get over the fact I’m not fucking you tonight, or I leave.”
Though she remained silent, with her back still to him, she seemed to wilt. Her shoulders slumped and her head bowed. A subdued Kendall was a new concept.
“Our food will be on the table in ten minutes.” She walked away.
Sighing in frustration, Johnnie followed behind her. In the kitchen, she was pulling a glass bowl out of the refrigerator.
“No protest to my words? I expected at least a discussion. Instead, you want to keep me guessing at your thoughts?”
Setting the bowl on the counter, she faced him. “What do you want me to say, Johnnie? No, what do youwantfrom me? If I respond, I’m a problem. If I don’t respond, I’m a problem. Basically, in your eyes, I’m just a problem.”
“No, you’re not. When you’re acting like you have some goddamn sense, you’re a dream come true. Otherwise, you’re a fucking demon.”
“I have issues!”
“So fucking what?” Johnnie snarled. He’d tried to help her with her emotional problems, but she never cooperated. Or, if she started out following advice and doctors’ orders, she stopped. Kendall’s mind closed when it came to her mental health. “We all have issues,” he reminded her, hoping to appeal to the side of her looking to identify with others. “We don’t destroy all of our relationships because of them.”
Tears rushed to her eyes and she held her hands out. “I have a new diagnosis,” she rushed out, her gaze pleading. “New medication.”
He almost took her in his arms and asked for an explanation. He forced himself not to. She’d just seize upon his softening to manipulate him. “For once, Kendall, I don’t care.” This new, hard-nosed approach might give her incentive to cooperate. She loved to do the opposite of whatever he asked of her. The thought angered him, and he glared at her. “A new diagnosis? New medication? What the fuck does that mean if you get tired of your plan of recovery? Not a fucking thing. You start out with hope—Istart out with hope and dreams and plans for our future—then you fucking self-destruct. A man can only live with so many disappointments about how his marriage is going. Only so much hope. When you lose hope,faith, you have nothing.”
She sucked in a breath.
“For so long, I cared about you, your mental health, getting you well, but you rewarded me with more bullshit. You have a new diagnosis? Good for you. Take your meds; don’t take them. That’s on you. My children are safe from your moods. My life is more peaceful.” The truth of those words stunned him. He’d always felt so broken and guilty when they separated. This time, he didn’t. “I don’t have to tiptoe through my fucking life to keep you happy. Rory is at ease.”
