Page 17 of Do It For Me
I swallow hard and start scratching my fingers under the table.
“For—uh… for making babies and stuff like that.”
I duck my head, letting my hair fall forward to hide my burning face. Men are supposed to think like that, aren’t they? So why does he make me feel like an idiot for saying it out loud?
“Lana—”
“I don’t understand why you act so weird,” I snap. “You don’t know me; you don’thaveto know me. We just have to get married, make babies, and…”
“That’s not how relationships work.”
“We won’t have a relationship! That doesn’t exist. There’s not a single person who’s happy in their marriage.”
“Amore—”
“Stop. It’s not necessary for you to do all of this.”
It’ll hurt less if I don’t let you inside my heart.
The weight in my chest starts to bother me. It’s making it hard to breathe. I shouldn’t be here. I should ask him to take me home, but if he does, I won’t be allowed to eat, and I’m starving.
Maybe that’s better. I should lose weight.
“If I decided to marry you, it’s because I want you to be okay.” He reaches out to me. “I want you to be happy, relaxed. There hasn’t been a moment where you stopped fidgeting, looking around, or losing yourself in your own thoughts since we got out of your house.”
“That has nothing to do with—”
“It has everything to do with the way you grew up. With your father.” He pauses. “I know you’re trying so hard not to piss me off that perhaps you’re restraining yourself or you’re even willing to do anything to not make me angry. If I do, you’ll wait for me to beat you up and take advantage of you, but this doesn’t work that way, sweetheart.”
I swallow the knot in my throat.
Sweetheart, ragnetta, amore. Why does he keep calling me like that?
“Which other way would this work out? It doesn’t make sense. You need a man to make babies, and that’s the only job women have.”
I raise my head. His eyes are fixed on mine, with a look I tend to see on my mum, but I’ve never known what it is.
In a soft voice, he says, “That won’t bemywoman’s job.”
I’ll be useless, then!
“What do you want me to do?”
“Whatever you want, whenever you want. You won’t have to cook, clean, and if you want babies or not, it’s your choice and only yours. Not mine or your father’s.”
“But you—”
“What I want or not doesn’t matter. I will adapt to you, not the other way around. Even if you want to stay away from me forthe rest of your life, sleeping in separate rooms, barely talking, I don’t mind. It’ll hurt, but I’ll accept it without reproach.”
“Why would you accept that?”
“Because I respect you and I care about your well-being. I know this is hard, because of what they’ve taught you—”
I huff. “It’s impossible that you don’t want the same as every man.”
He sighs in exasperation, but he keeps reaching his hand out to me.
“Ragnetta, Ineedyou to trust me.”
