Page 29 of Keeping My Wife
I pinched the bridge of my nose. “I sold one of the armoires and a painting. I can put fifteen thousand in your account tomorrow.”
“Fine. That’s not enough, but it will cover my rent this month.”
“Mom, you didn’t go through all your money already, did you?”
There was a pause. “That’s none of your business. I needed to go to Paris with Benny.”
“What? When?”
While I’d been in this money pit of a house, she’d been living it up in Paris? I slumped onto the edge of my bed. The tears that came pissed me off. Frustrated and overwhelmed, I growled. “You know what? Never mind. I don’t want to know. I gotta go.” I hit end, annoyed at the thick lump in my throat.
I heard the clomp of Cam’s boots on the stairs. I sat up and swiped at my cheeks.
He was holding his big toolbox. His hair was still wet from his shower and a few snow crystals dusted his shoulders.
“Is it snowing?”
“Just a little. What’s wrong?” He set the box down and crossed to me.
“Nothing.”
“Then why are you crying?”
“I’m not.” I pushed past him. “Can you look at my washer? It ate my jeans.”
“Hey.” He snagged my hand before I could get out of the room. He pulled me into a hug.
I stiffened in his arms. “Don’t.”
His big hand smoothed down my hair. “Maxie, you can talk to me.”
“You’re not my keeper.” I pulled out of his arms and practically ran out of the room and down the hall.
“Is there a reason you want to pick a fight?” He asked from the hall.
I slapped at the buttons on the washer, and it just kept buzzing.
“Hey.” He pulled me away from the stupid washer. “That’s not going to help.”
I tried to push at his chest, but he just held me firm. Not into a hug this time, simply close. The stone in my chest got bigger. Until it was weighing me down. I put my hands on his chest and rested my forehead just under his neck.
He looped his arm around me, then smoothed my hair with his free hand.
“My mom called looking for money.”
“Ahh.”
“Yeah. I don’t know what the hell I’m going to do. I don’t want to keep selling off pieces of this place to fund her shopping habit. It’s going to take all the charm out of it for the B&B.”
“And you don’t have to. You’re the caretaker.”
“You don’t know her.”
“You can just say no.”
“Right.” I lifted my head to bury it into his neck. His familiar sawdust and spice scent helping to ease the ache in my chest.
“Okay, let me see if I can rescue these pants.”
