Page 78 of Grease Monkey
“Honey? Are you okay?”
My chest tightens, and I rub over the sharp pain with my knuckles at the sound of Richards’s voice. How do I look my fiancé in the eye and know he wasn’t the last man to touch me?
“Yeah, yes, I’m fine. Long day at work.”
“I can imagine,” he hums, and even down the line, I know condescension when I hear it. “It was a good thing you decided not to become a lawyer if you think nine to five is a long day in the office.”
I grit my teeth, biting back words I know will only end in an argument. Technically, my day started at eight today and didn’t finish until seven thirty, but it’s not like Richard’s “full-time”job where he works fifteen hours a day.
“No one works harder than you, honey.”
He laughs. “Got to, sweetheart. If I’m to help your dad get into congress, got to put in the time.”
Urgh,campaigning. I swear that’s all my dad’s life is; campaign after campaign after campaign. At least he’s got Richard by his side—the ever-dutiful future son-in-law… the son I bet he always wished he had instead of Skip.
“Dad’s lucky to have you,” I say, tipping my head back to rest against the brick wall, still supporting my weight. At least my legs don’t feel like they’ll give out anymore. “I think you see him more than I ever have.”
“Morgana, he is a very busy man. What do you expect?” he says sharply, and I picture his brows knitted, and his lips pulled into a straight line. “How can he expect his career to be where it is now without dedicating all his time to work? That’s why I wish you’d reconsider working when we have children. I need you there, Morgana.They’llneed you there.”
I need you to look pretty and take care of the home. Nothing else.
I pinch the bridge of my nose. “Can we not discuss this right now?”
He sighs. “Fine. Well, why don’t you tell me about your day now that you got the first week jitters out of the way. Settled in better?”
An overwhelming sensation of dread fills my veins as my body lights up, my mind going straight to Teddy. I need to tell him. This is the part where I say it, like word vomit, get it all out in the open, apologize profusely and hope he can forgive me. But over the phone?
Don’t tell him anything, Morgana. He’ll go straight to your mom, and you know what happens next.
The tips of my fingers feel numb as they tighten around my phone. Pushing as much excitement into my voice that doesn’t come across as fake, I tell him about the office, the people, and how pretty this town is. I know he’s not listening, his “interesting,” “that’s good,”and “uh-huhs”are all lackluster at best, and I swear I can hear the clacking of his keyboard while I talk, then a faint murmuring.
He’s talking to someone instead of listening to me.
“And they want to buy me a puppy for doing such a good job on the first day.”
“That’s great, honey,” he says, and my arm bands around my stomach as an odd sensation of neglect rears its ugly head. Why do I care if he’s listening to me or not? “Listen, Tom’s just popped in, and we’re going to head out for a few drinks. You know I hate to cut this short…”
Sure.
“Oh, right. Of course. Where you going?” I ask, hating that I’m almost sad that he’s barely paying me attention. It’s not like this is new to me. I can hear his desk drawers opening and closing, the jingle of his keys, and the chuckle of a male voice I can only assume is Tom. I’ve never liked that man.
“The Gentleman’s Club.”
I pull the phone from my ear and check the time. “Isn’t it like ten o’clock?”
“Yes, what does that matter?”
“I just mean…”
“I did say I’ve had a long day, Morgana. I need to relax with the boys.”
I startle as the side door to the alleyway opens, and Teddy steps through, shutting the light off behind him.
“I’ll call you in a few days, okay?”
“Sure.”
“Love you, sweetheart.”
