If I wasn’t already in a bad mood, mornings always bring out the worst in me. I ran a bar for years. My days rarely started before noon for years and years.
“It’s none of?—”
“None of my concern, got it. Only it is a bit, because he knows my face now, doesn’t he?”
Leon narrows his eyes at me, but I don’t back down. “Then don’t give him an excuse to see your face again.”
“So what? I’m just supposed to just sit on my ass until Carmen reaches out again?”
“Exactly.”
“Well, this has been productive,” I say sarcastically as I stand, desperately trying to ignore my aching thighs. “I assume you’re satisfied that I’ve fulfilled my wifely duties?”
He doesn’t respond. Doesn’t even look at me.
Is he embarrassed? Ashamed? I can’t find any sympathy either way.
“I’m going home, then.”
He doesn’t stop me as I leave. I’m not sure if I want him to. I’m not sure how I feel about him at all.
I think the sex has really messed with me. The euphoria of pulling off the infiltration of the Cartel mixed with his protective…no,possessiveness,in bed really fed into my delusions of whatever this thing is between us.
Which is hilarious because there isn’t athingbetween us.Not with the man who threatened my father’s life so I would marryhim. Not with the man whose only interest in me starts and ends with my capacity to bear his children.
Sure, he always touched me like I mattered. Looked at me like he was trying to burn the image into his memory. Held me close and whispered things that still make my heart race just thinking about them.
At least, it had felt that way, until he’d jumped off the bed and ran away from me like he couldn’t bear the sight of me.
So, logically speaking, there’s nothing for me even to be upset about, really. Because there’s nothing,and there will never be athing,because he’s an asshole who doesn’t even have the decency to stay the night with me.
The week that follows the debrief is dreadful, mainly because I’m tearing my hair out due to the sheer boredom of having absolutely nothing to do. I’m not even fully able to enjoy doing nothing because of the guilt of sitting around and doing nothing.
Cas calls at least once a day, and I meet her and baby Cory for coffee one afternoon. I pointedly refuse to talk about Leon the entire time, and Cas has the good sense to ramble on about things like pre-K and growth spurts.
Things I probably should be noting down for the not-so-distant future.
Except the thought of having a child feels as distant as the moon to me. I can’t connect with it anymore than I connect with the idea of Leon being the father of my children.
My father visited once to deliver a belated wedding present—a gold necklace he claimed was an heirloom of some kind, but Iwouldn’t put it past him to pawn some expensive shit off on me in case I was short on cash.
Not that I am, technically, short of cash these days. Although the black credit card still sits unused in my purse.
There’s also been no contact from Carmen beyond the thank you text she sent twenty minutes after I dropped her off at her place after the party. She’s said at the door that she’d reach out when she needed me again.
Which also means I can’t take on any more mercenary jobs, because I might be needed by the Cartel debutant at the drop of a hat.
NoCandelabra.No mercenary work. No Guild.
No Leon Natali.
I’m close to plucking out my own eyelashes on the evening of the eighth consecutive night alone in my tiny little studio apartment.
Which is why, I suppose, I call him.
“Are you all right?” He picks up on the second ring, sounding somewhat breathless.
“No.”
