Page 130 of If You Claim Me
I don’t know for sure, and I’m too exhausted to handle whatever the truth might be.
“You are not a whore, Mildred. You are my wife, and you are a Grace whether my father likes it or not.”
I wait for him to say more. To give me a piece of himself. To tell me the contract doesn’t matter. But this is Connor. He’s no more likely to hand me his heart than I am to hand him mine.
And where does that leave us but a standstill?
CHAPTER 34
CONNOR
Ireinstate the funding for my wife’s library programs by cashing in a few investments. I don’t say anything to Meems, because I don’t want to cause her stress, or my wife for the same reason. But I stew over the situation, marinate in my anger and frustration. Self-flagellate over the fact that I should have anticipated something like this, and I failed to put safeguards in place to protect Mildred from harm. Now she’s overworked, and her colleagues are just as stressed as she is.
Of course Meems set up donations to the library through the company. Of course my father performed a financial audit and saw the opportunity to shit all over my wife, because he’s an entitled, power-hungry asshole.
But more than that, it’s the things he said to her, the way he cut her down, made her feel like less. Made me question her intentions when she got on her knees for me. Was she proving him right? Was she stepping into the role like I do with my family? It’s hard to separate myself from my choices and not impose them on her.
And that’s why I expect Mildred to stop sleeping in my bedroom, even though it’s nowours. I expect her to stop sleeping withme. But she doesn’t do either. Every night she climbs intobed. And each night I stretch out an arm, inviting her in. But I never stop being relieved when she snuggles into me and lets me soak up her warmth. She lets me kiss her in the dark, touch her, get inside her.
Still, the contract hangs over my head, its implications compounding. Does Mildred stay because it exists? Is financial security still her motive? She and Meems grow closer all the time. When I’m away, they play board games together, eat dinner together, and act like family should. They smile and laugh and love. I want all of it to be mine too, but I’m unsure what’s real and what’s linked to the money in Mildred’s account. She never says anything about it.
Then today I get home from hockey practice to find a balloon arch and a huge banner that readsHappy 75thLucybeing fixed to the wall by Cedrick and Norm. My beautiful wife is standing in the middle of the room with her hands on her hips, directing them.
“Up a couple of inches, Cedrick.” She tilts her head. “That’s it! Right there!”
I stop several feet away, not wanting to startle her. “What’s going on?”
She stiffens slightly, but doesn’t turn. “We’re throwing Meems a birthday party.”
“I would have helped you organize this.” More likely I would have paid people to organize it.
“It’s just a small get-together.” She still won’t make eye contact.
“Who’s coming?” Meems loves Mildred’s friends. They get together every other week for book club, which seems mostly like an excuse to hang out and eat junk food.
Her jaw tics. “Your family.”
“What?”
She turns to face me, finally, guard up, eyes flashing with defiance. “I invited your family over to celebrate Meems’s birthday.”
“Cedrick and Norm, can you leave us for a moment?”
“Of course, sir.” They hastily finish tacking the banner in place and hustle out of the room.
“Why would you invite my familyhere?” I have yet to confront my father. In part because I don’t want him to retaliate further, but also because I’m concerned I’ll cause him bodily harm and end up in a cell. Apparently my time has run out.
“I thought it would be better to host here so Meems can excuse herself when she’s tired.” Mildred bridges the gap between us and smooths her palms up my chest. “I also thought it would be preferable to spending an afternoon at your parents’ house, and I didn’t feel as though Meems or your sisters should be punished because your father has feelings about me that aren’t positive.”
God, I fucking love you.
The thought is a shock, and those words stay locked inside me. “Are you sure you’re not punishing yourself, darling?”
“I’ve been punished more than enough by other people,” she informs me. “I don’t need to do it to myself, too.”
“You married me.”
“Marrying you wasn’t a punishment, Connor, even if you’d like it to be.”
