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As I pierce the cork with the point of the corkscrew, I hear the front door closing softly and turn to look through the door and down the hallway, abandoning the bottle opening when I see Troy drop his keys on the table and put his briefcase on the floor. His jacket hangs from his fingers and his sleeves are rolled to his elbow. The top button of his shirt is open like always, he never wears a tie for work, but the button underneath is also open. I spend a moment staring at his arms before I even look up any further. He’s already making his way down the hallway as I reach his handsome face, it’s only when he’s closer do I see how tired he looks. I put the bottle down and walk to the door of the kitchen greeting him. “Hey.”
He smiles through tired eyes, curling his fingers around the back of my head, and bending slightly to kiss me on top of my head as he passes. He throws his jacket over one of the stools at the island, rolling his shoulders and stretching his neck. I step up to him tipping my head back.
His hands go around my face and his lips mash to mine in a searing kiss. One of those that turns your legs to jelly. “Hey, yourself.” he says with a grin. For the first time since he walked through the door tonight, I get a smile.
“Is everything okay?” I ask putting my hands on his stomach feeling his abs beneath my fingertips.
“It is now.” He brushes back the loose hairs from my face and kisses me again before standing back. I move my hands to his arms stroking the muscles in his forearms.
“You look tired.” I state in a soft tone.
“It's been a long day. I’ll take some of that wine though.” His head nods in the direction of the bottle.
“Ah. I haven’t opened it. Me and corkscrews aren’t very good friends.” I tell him twisting my mouth up in amusement. “I always have a fight and when I do get the corkscrew into the cork, I can never pull the bloody thing out anyway.”
In sharing my amusement, he shakes his head and takes the bottle and in seconds he has the screw in the cork and is popping it out. Clutching my chest, I bat my eyelids. “My hero.” I give him the glasses for him to pours us both a glass.
“Are you cooking?” His eyes fix on the hob as he asks,
“Well, I was yes. I was looking for ground beef mince for Bolognese but can’t find any so it might just be pasta and sauce.”
“Very extravagant.” It’s his turn to twist his lips up this time. My hand goes to my hip, and I cock my head, not very amused at his joke. “We’ll just order Chinese. Fuck it.”
“You won’t be saying that when we have to get all domesticated and go food shopping.” I tease.
“Ugh. That’s why online shopping was invented.” He replies huffing. He really is not in a good mood. I used to see this side of Troy a lot, I don’t miss him, but I make the effort because it’s what couple’s do.
I pass him his wine and lean my arms on the island. “Want to talk about your day? Problem shared and all that,” I shrug, going back over to him and tug his shirt from his trousers, sneaking my hands beneath the hem and slide my hands over his bare stomach and around to his back.
“Not really.” he tells me. “It’s just a shitty contract that’s all and I can’t get around it.”
“There might be a flaw in it somewhere?” I question trying to find an out. I hate him looking like this. It’s obviously causing some stress.
“Em, these aren't paintings. It isn’t a contract that says you get to display someone’s artwork for a period of time then take it down at the end of it before moving onto the next,” He spits, a slice of venom lacing his tone.
I take my hands from him and shift backwards looking up into his eyes properly. “I know that.” I answer in a snarky tone. “I was just saying.”
“Emily. I don’t want to talk work with you because you don’t understand,” He stops as soon as he says it, closing his eyes at himself and the way he’s fucked himself up with his own arrogance.
“I was trying to help.”I add quietly.
“But you can’t.” His voice rises further, “This is my problem and just like everything else, your father has left it to me to deal with it,” Oh. “Just one of many fucking hassles that I have to deal with and then pick up the fucking pieces later. Fuck!”His hand comes down on the counter with a loud thud.
“Troy, I might not have wanted the business or be a part of said family business but I’m not stupid and if you’d let me try and help, I could be useful.”
He braces my arms in his hands and leans down. “It’s not your problem and I’m not dragging you into his shit. It’s for me to sort out. Leave it.”
“But I don’t understand why it’s so hard to ask for help.” My eyes pleading with him to let me help him.
“Em,” his voice rising in frustration. “Just leave it.” My mouth claps shut, I shrug out of his hold, lifting my glass to my lips and drink a good portion of it. “Please sweetheart. Just trust me on this.”
“Fine.” I snap, taking my phone in my empty hand and top up wine and storm past him, “Eat on your own, I’m suddenly not hungry.”
I charge down the hallway as he shouts my name. “Emily!” I don’t reply, instead I quickly take the stairs. Well, as fast as I can without spilling a drop of wine anyway. I make it to my art room in no time and slam the door shut behind me. Tears prick at my eyes while I try to focus through the blur of unshed tears, attempting to keep my temper to a minimum while I pace the floor taking small sips on my wine. I’ve had such a good day today, how the hell can it all turn to shit so quickly. A tear falls free, but it’s not until I feel it trickling down my cheek that I realise I’m actually crying. Well, that and the lump in my throat that I can’t swallow past. But instead of fighting it, I let the tears come. With my back against the wall, my legs weaken and I’m sliding down the wall crying, my forehead coming to rest on my knees. I’m not even sure why I’m crying, I’ve fought worse than this with Troy in the past… but why does it hurt so much now. It’s not like I don’t know he’s arrogant, because it’s obviously one of his worst features but for some reason I get him.
Fuck him and his fucking cockiness.
You love him.A little voice nags inside my head. And you can fuck off too, I tell the snarky bitch. I don’t need her fucking, know-it-all input either.
