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Will stared at Elizabeth as she sat across the office from him at her desk, engrossed in something on her laptop. In the eight weeks they’d been living together, this had become their Saturday morning routine; after lounging in bed for a while, they meandered to the kitchen to make coffee before heading into the office. There, they would both take care of any work that needed to be done, usually within an hour or two, so that the rest of the weekend was left free for spending time together without distractions.
Eight weeks. Looking back to the start of it, he had to smile. For the first week or so, they were inseparable. Wherever he was in the house, that's where she was, and vice versa. But it didn't take long for them to settle into a routine, spending time together but also doing things independently. It seemed a good balance, and even when they weren’t together, it was still nice to know she was somewhere in the house.
That being said, it was the little changes he enjoyed the most. He liked the clutter on the bathroom counter and that their robes hung side by side behind the bathroom door. He liked seeing her lacy underthings mixed with his boxers in the laundry. Waking up with her every morning and having a cup of coffee together before she scooted out the door to work, greeting her when she came home, having a lazy weekend, cooking together… Even something as mundane as watching television and deciding what they should binge watch next… It was all sonormal. Normal, but...not. For the first time in his life, he felt completely at peace with who and what he was and where his life was going.
This was due in no small part to Elizabeth’s patience—and his therapist’s competence. Twice a week, he spent an hour of his day talking to Dr. Campbell about his past, his parents—especially his father, and the Darcy legacy, and how each played a role in shaping him and the way his mind functioned. He’d slowly begun to tie all those strings together, strand by strand. It was a painstaking and sometimes agonizing process, but his fears, his tendency to look for the worst ineverything,and his father’s voice, always so prominent in his mind, had slowly begun to quiet. It wasn’t always doom and gloom; a lot of his conversations with Dr. Campbell were about his day-to-day thoughts and activities, and of course, much of it centered on his relationship with Elizabeth, which was growing stronger every day.
He’d had a darkroom built for her in the basement. It had taken no time at all once the carpenter was hired, and she spent a great deal of time down there. She seemed to be taking more pictures now than ever, and always had her camera with her wherever they went. The inlaid cork walls of the darkroom were covered in pictures, and among the newer ones were pictures from trips they’d taken to New Hampshire and Vermont, plus weekends in Boston and another trip to Martha’s Vineyard.
He studied her now. Yes, this was their Saturday morning routine. But on thisparticularSaturday, she looked up from her laptop and stared back at him, a challenge in her eyes. She folded her arms across her chest, and he shook his head.
We've been living together for eight weeks, and this is the third time we've had this argument.
“I don't know what you want me to do, Lizzy,” he said quietly now. “Do you want me to ask my accountant to start sending the electric bill to the house so you can pay it? Or the cable bill? Would that make you feel better?”
She rolled her eyes. “Don't be condescending.”
“I'm not, I swear, I just…I'm at a loss.” He sighed. “You contribute in a lot of ways.”
“How?”
“You do a lot around here, youknowyou do. Do you want an itemized list or something?” He paused. “You contribute to the overall quality of my life, how's that?”
Her eyes sparked. “Fitzwilliam—”
“Okay, that sounded flip, but it's true. You contribute in so many other ways; why can't you let the money thing go? Why should you have to pay anything? You're not a tenant; you're my girlfriend, my partner.”
Her eyes and voice softened. “I know that. But the wordpartnerin and of itself implies equality. We're not equals in this.”
“Of course we're not, butonlyin this. My income far surpasses yours, and you knew that before you moved in. It would take you a decade to make what I make in six months.”
Her face fell, and he kicked himself. He rose and walked over to her, pulling her out of her chair and leading her to the small leather couch that ran along the bank of windows between their desks. He sat and pulled her down next to him.
“I'm not saying that to make you feel bad or to make light of your job or what you earn. I know you've worked hard to get where you are, and I'm proud of you for that.”
She remained silent, so he continued. “We've talked about this, love. There's no mortgage on this property. I never see a bill. They all go to my accountant, he pays them out of a household account, and he and I talk about once a month to go over my finances. We're very comfortable.
“We'revery comfortable.”
“Yes,we. You and me.” She remained silent, and he sighed. “You still have payments on your Jeep, right?”
“Yes, but only for a few more months. You arenotpaying it off for me.”
“I wouldn't dream of offering. And because you do all the grocery shopping, you've been paying for all the food. I’ve offered to pay, you said no, and I accepted that. You've gone out shopping with Georgie and bought things for me, you've bought a bunch of things for this house and for the townhouse...” He eyed her seriously. “But I'm not keeping a tally, and neither should you.”
She sighed. “It’s just weird. I’m so used to paying my own way. It feels strange not to be doing that anymore. It's almost like that little bit of my independence is gone.”
He kissed her fingertips. “I'm not paying your way because youneedme to, I'm paying because it makes more sense for those things to carry on as they always have. Seriously, do you think I'm going to have you kick in for the electric bill or something? Think about it.”
She rolled her eyes. “It is kind of silly. I guess I just have to get used to it.”
A movement at the opposite end of the couch caught his eye. “And there’s another example of one of yourexcellentcontributions to the household. How could we forget about this demonic little fur ball?”
Elizabeth giggled as the kitten they’d adopted a week ago woke up and came tottering over to them, stretching his body and mewling as he came closer. He climbed onto Elizabeth’s lap and touched his tiny nose to hers.
“Fenway is not a demonic little fur ball. He's sweet and lovable.” She stroked over the kitten's fur, scratching him behind the ears and over the scruff of his neck. He settled down on her chest, purring sweetly and pushing his tiny face into her hand. “Listen to how happy he is.”
