Page 114 of Maid For Each Other
“Bullshit,” he said, his face unreadable.
“I’m sorry?” I managed, hating him for how much he’d made me like him, for how much I missed him.
For how much the memories hurt.
“That’s bullshit,” he repeated. “It’s what we agreed upon and you knew it was going to be easy money; you said that the day we agreed upon it.”
“So you’re mad I didn’t take your money?” I asked, unsure of what exactly he seemed irritated with me about. “I’m not going to sue you if that’s what you’re—”
“Roman told me he saw you at Benny’s.”
“Oh.” I wasn’t sure what to say to that. “Yeah. He was buying supplements.”
“I know,” he said.
I waited for more, but he gave me nothing. He didn’t say a word, so finally I said, “We get wholesaler prices, so we’re able to sell them for way less than every—”
“I don’t care about Benny’s supplemental price points,” he said, throwing his hands up in frustration. “I care that my friend stupidly suggested something that might’ve made you feel like a commodity.”
“He—” I stopped myself from saying more, because I didn’t knowwhatto say to that. He’d just explained exactly how Roman had made me feel. “You didn’t know he was going to do that?”
“I would’ve fucking destroyed him for the proposition,” he growled, looking straight up pissed now. “And if you’d said yes, it would’ve destroyedme.”
I blinked fast as his words crashed into me, jump-starting the heartbeat that’d been frozen since I’d walked in. Suddenly my heart was racing and my face was hot and my hands might’ve been trembling because what did this mean?
“It, uh, it would’ve?” I asked, my voice coming out sort of husky. “Why, exactly?”
“You’re going to make me say it?” he asked, stepping closer, closing the space between us.
And suddenly, it was too much. I could smell his cologne and see his Adam’s apple and hear the ticking of his fancy watch and I couldn’t get sucked back in again, I couldn’t.
I wasn’t Daphne, goddammit.
I cleared my throat and shook my head, stepping back. “You don’t have to say anything. It’s cool.”
His eyebrows went up and he frowned. “It’scool?”
I couldn’t do this. I was finally starting to not think about him incessantly, to throw myself into my writing, to force myself to find my own happiness. I needed to get away from him. I said, “It’s all water under the bridge and we’re good.”
“It’s ‘cool’ and now ‘we’re good.’ ”
He was air-quoting me again, damn it.
“That’s right,” I said, nodding and giving him what I hoped was a carefree smart-ass smirk. “We’re ‘good.’ ”
I air-quoted myself.
Or I was air-quoting him air-quoting me.
Whatever.
I said, “It was really good seeing you, but I’ve got to get to work before I get fired. Obviously they got it wrong and you’re in town, so just let me get my stuff out of here and I’ll be—”
“What ifI’mnot good?”
His words hung there, in the air between us. He swallowed and I saw his jaw flex before he said, “I’m the opposite of good. I’m fuckingmiserablewithout you, Abi.”
I wanted to run to him, to kiss him, to bury my face in that strong chest while he wrapped his arms around me—I wanted it so badly I could almost feel his warmth—but that would only make things worse. I wouldn’t survive when he eventually got bored and shrugged his shoulders at me like I’d seen him do with cars and money and jewelry.
