I nod. “I had a job interview this morning.”
“Okay.”
“When I told Warrick about it, he wasn’t happy. He’s worried that we’ll never get a chance to see each other if I get a job. He doesn’t want me to work, he wants to take care of me.”
“But you don’t want that? I understand. I love Anders, but I still need to work.”
“We argued.”
“That happens. But it can be jarring if it’s the first time.”
“I basically told him that I felt like he was offering me room and board in exchange for sex. I told him he was buying me,” I blurt.
Henry’s eyes go wide. “Is that how you feel?” he questions, clearly shocked.
“No,” I whimper. “After we had sex, I wondered ifIwas using sex as a way of feeling less like I was taking advantage of him. But that was all me, never him. He’s never made me feel like he expected me to do anything in exchange for him helping me. But I was mad, and I just said things. I never expected him to take it so seriously. After my interview, he drove me here. He told me he would pay my rent until I got on my feet, but that he didn’t expect anything in return and that if I wanted to pay him back, I should donate the money to a charity. Then he said he was sorry and he left.”
“Wow,” Henry says.
“What do I do?” I ask.
“Honestly, I don’t know. Do you love him?”
“Yes,” I say passionately.
“Have you told him that?”
I shake my head.
“Well, that might be a good place to start. But maybe not today.”
“But I don’t want to stay here, I want to go home,” I whimper, feeling like I want to cry and throw up all at the same time.
His eyes are sympathetic but are also filled with censure. “I don’t know what to say, Verity. You told him you felt like he was buying you, that he was basically treating you like a prostitute. I don’t know about Warrick, but if it were me, I’d need some time to process that.”
“But I didn’t mean it.”
Sighing, he rubs at his thighs. “I can’t drive, but I’m sure Parker wouldn’t mind giving you a ride home later if you want to go and see him after we finish work.”
“I can’t wait that long. I need to speak to him now,” I say, desperate to fix this. Pulling the cell he bought me from my purse, I find his number and hit call. It goes straight to voicemail. Ending it, I call back, but it goes to voicemail again.
“He’s not answering?” Henry asks.
I shake my head. “No.”
“Give him some time, then I really think you should talk to him. I wish I could stay with you, but I have to get back to work. I’m just downstairs if you need anything or just want some company.”
“Thanks, Henry,” I say, hating the oppressive silence that settles over me as he leaves, pulling the apartment door closed behind him.
I fucked up. I really, really fucked up, and I don’t know what to do. Will admitting my feelings for him fix this? Or is it too little, too late?
Dialing his number again, I listen for it to start ringing, but it goes straight to voicemail, the robotic voice asking me to leave a message, only making me feel worse. For a second I think about ending the call, then I start to speak.
“Hey, it’s me. I wanted to speak to you, but you’re either screening my calls or you blocked me. I guess I’d understand either way. I really want to talk to you. I want to come home. Can you call me back, or message me, or something, please? I’m sorry, Warrick. I didn’t mean all those things I said, I just…” Sighing… “I just…call me back…please.”
Ending the call, I stare down at the cell in my hand, waiting and praying and hoping for it to ring, but instead it stays silent, the screen eventually going dark. My eyes are watery as I lift my head and look around the apartment I’m sitting in. It’s beautiful,and three weeks ago, if someone had told me I could live here, I’d have been elated. But not now.
Now the gorgeous furniture and the thick wool rug feel lifeless and anonymous. I want to be curled into Warrick’s side on his massive couch or pressed next to him at the dining table. I want to be naked except for his shirt, waiting for him in his comfortable bed or soaking in his tub.
