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I want to turn her into the perfect wife for me.
Chapter 9
Lisa
Walking into the “house” part of the building the floral shop is in, I’m in shock. “This isn’t my home.”
Frank moves past me, coming into the living room. “It’s better, huh?”
The furnishings are better, more expensive, nicer in every way. What’s missing are the things I grew up with. The old, threadbare sofa where I’d spend hours lounging and watching television on the days I was sick and missed school.
The stained recliner that was Dad’s—and only Dad’s. The upright Queen Anne chair my mother thought looked so dignified and called her own so that no one ever sat in it. My bean bag chair, overstuffed and smelling of Cheetos. the All our things — gone.
“What happened to my things?”
“The furniture is probably in a dump somewhere. I told them to box up your memorabilia and put it in the storage building at my brother’s place.” He walks through the living room like he’s been in my home thousands of times. And I have to wonder how many times he was here without me knowing.
I don’t know how to react to all the changes. I know I can’t cry or scream at him. I also know I can’t thank him for taking all my things away and replacing them. I can’t bring myself to do that.
“This is a lot, Frank.”
He stops just before entering the kitchen and turns to me. Stern eyes look back at me, almost daring me to say something negative. “I’m accustomed to having nice things. I want to feel at home here. You want me to feel at home.”
But now I don’t feel at home, and it’s my fucking house!
Tears no longer threaten as anger bubbles up inside me. “You mean you’ll be in better mood if you’re surrounded by nice things.”
“Yes,” he says, his lips forming a tight line. He must have expected me to gush over the complete transition of my home. The only home I’ve ever known.
Turning back around, he goes into the kitchen, and I follow. What I see astonishes me. “New cabinets, new stove, new fridge,” I mutter.
“I have to have a good kitchen. I like to cook, and I have to have . . .”
“Nice things,” I finish his thought. My eyes scan the area, taking in everything. “Did you send your people over the moment I left the shop this morning? I mean, fresh paint on the walls takes time to dry before moving everything in.” They left no stone unturned, it seems. Nothing is the same. Not a damn thing.
Reaching out, he takes my hand in his and tugs me out of the kitchen to go down the hallway where the two bedrooms are. “I moved us to the master suite. You’re gonna like this. I promise.”
“Mom and Dad’s bedroom?” I don’t like this at all.
He opens the door, and the overhead lights come on with the action, which is new. And when I look up, I see recessed lighting has been installed. “You have to like this.” He’s all smiles as he gestures to the grandeur of the bedroom.
My emotions take over, and tears pour down my cheeks. I run to the bathroom that’s attached to the bedroom and find it’s nothing like it was this morning. Melting into a puddle on the newly tiled floor, I let myself fall into the sadness of my situation.
I have held back everything very well until now. Now that my own home has been taken over completely by this man, I let my tears flow freely.
Through the tears, I see Frank’s tall figure come to stand in the doorway. “I know this is a lot to take in, Lisa.”
“You think?” Wiping my eyes with the backs of my hands, I know the heavy makeup is smearing all over my face. “I know I wasn’t a thought in your mind when you planned all this out, but this isn’t easy for me. None of it. I have bitten my tongue and made the best of the situation. But coming back to my home—a home I left less than twenty-four hours ago—to find it’s been completely taken over by you is just too much. I can’t sleep in my dead parents’ bedroom.”
Kneeling beside me, he cradles my face in his large hands and runs his thumbs back and forth over my cheeks. “It’s not their room anymore. It’s our room now. It’s the room where we’ll make love and memories together. It’s time you let them go, baby. It’s time to move on. Move on with me.”
Gulping back the sobs, I cannot believe he’s talking to me this way. “You expect too much from me. I can’t move on simply because you tell me to. And move on with you?” I laugh, and it sounds kind of hysterical, so I think I might be about to lose my fucking mind. “I have to move on with you, don’t I? I have no choice!”
“Is that so bad?” He leans in and kisses my neck softly. “We need a shower.”
Thanks to his miracle restoration team, there’s a large shower that could fit two or more people. And that makes me cry even harder.
I feel his hands move as he unzips my dress and then pushes it off my shoulders, letting it fall in a heap around me. Then he lifts me up, leaving the wedding dress on the floor. My bra and panties are taken off next before he steps back and undresses himself.
