Page 20 of Whatever He Wants
Mr.Ashford’s attitude changes when I get his kitchen powered back up.He’s especially pleased that I upgraded and replaced a few things he hadn’t realized needed attention.When I mention my firm’s long-term service contract, he signs up without hesitation.I’m surprised when he tosses in a meal on the house too.
“And you can even bring a date,” he adds.
As I leave, I take one last look around.The electrical system might be ancient, but this part of the building is modern and classy.Dark walls, big windows overlooking the lake, and plush leather seats with arm rests.Pendant lights cast a warm glow, creating an intimate atmosphere.It looks like the kind of place where the menus don’t have prices and the reservation waitlist is months long.
Maybe I should take Mr.Ashford up on his offer and bring Denise here.I can already picture her sitting by one of those windows, her skin glowing under the warm light.I bet Matt didn’t take her anywhere this nice when he proposed to her.
My phone vibrates in my pocket as I climb into my car.It’s a text from Denise asking for the watch’s description.I type it out and hit send.A second later, the phone buzzes with her reply.
Thanks.:)
I stare at her text, then at the tiny profile picture of her smiling as she presses a yellow flower to her left cheek.If the circumstances were different, if Matt hadn’t stole from me to buy her the engagement ring, would she have let him finish the proposal?
Jealousy burns inside me at the possibility she might have said yes to being with Matt forever.What’s worse, it still exists because he might pressure her for an answer or try to propose again.
I lock my phone, drop it into the cup holder, and grip my car’s steering wheel.
I can’t let that happen.
13
Denise
The good news: the pawn shop is open, and the owner confirms someone sold him a watch that matches the description Isaac texted me.
The terrible news: someone else already bought it.
“It was a beautiful piece.The moment I saw it, I knew it wouldn’t last long in my store.”
He’s right.Matt admitted he pawned the watch the day after he stole it.Barely two days later, someone else has already snatched it up.I clutch the edge of the glass countertop that’s also a jewellery display case.
“Do you have any contact information for the person who bought it?”
The owner’s grey, bushy eyebrows draw together as he gives me a look that saysyou know the answer to that question.I do, but I don’t care.I’m desperate.
“I’m afraid not, my dear.I also can’t give you any information about the seller.If the watch was stolen, you can file a police report—”
“That’s OK.I don’t need to do that.”I live with the seller.“Thanks for your help.”
Panic bubbles inside me as I leave the store.I linger outside, taking deep breaths of the chilly fall air to soothe myself, although the unpleasant smell from the dumpster in the alleyway nearby doesn’t help.
This is bad.Isaac calmly accepted the delay last night, but he’ll be furious all over again when he finds out his watch is gone for good.
What am I going to do?
Only two options left now: I either convince him not to force us to leave tomorrow, or I pack as soon as I get home from work this evening.
I picture myself getting out all the flattened cardboard boxes I saved from the previous move, filling them up with our stuff, dreading the uncertainty of where we’re going to sleep tomorrow night.The mental image is so uncomfortable, I sweep my hands across my forehead as if I can physically wipe it from my mind.
Option one, then.Except, pleas didn’t work the last time I tried to convince Isaac to show mercy.It still involved my mouth, though.Will I be willing to dothatagain?
No.I’m going to pay him what the watch is worth, and even offer to help him in some way that doesn’t involve sexual favours.Sure, the money for the watch doesn’t replace its sentimental value.Sure, he rejected my offer to help him with whatever he needed the last time.But at least I’m not showing up totally empty-handed and with bad news about the loss.
But what Idefinitelywon’t do is throw away the last shred of my morals and self-respect by getting on my knees again for him.Even if I didn’t totally hate the experience yesterday.Just like I didn’t hate it last night when he was touching me, or when he pulled me closer to kiss me…
A gust rushes past me, a cold, prickling slap to the face like nature is rebuking me for my dirty thoughts.I shudder and squeeze my arms to my body to preserve some warmth.Ugh.It’s too early for fall to hand the baton over to winter.
I take out my phone and go to the message chain with Isaac.His last text to me was from this morning, describing the watch.My fingers hover over the screen’s keyboard.I don’t know what to say.I’m not ready to give him the bad news yet.So I put away my phone and head to the nearest coffee shop to grab something quick for lunch.
