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“I think it’s almost time for you to give up your apartment. Our lives are about to be joined forever and you don’t need to keep it as a safety net any longer.”
This was a typical Simon move. He’d given me my orders as to how to proceed with Ronnie and assumed I’d fall into line. Now he was moving to the next item on his mental checklist. At times like this, I never knew what he was thinking until he declared it.
“Respectfully, I disagree,” I said.
“I want you to start thinking about letting it go.” His tone of voice saiddecision made. Do what you’re told.
“No.”
“No?”
“You heard me.”
A red spot of anger burned on the side of Simon’s face. “I’m listening.”
“No.” I resisted the urge to add sarcastically, what part ofnodon’t you understand?
If he hadn’t become angry and insistent, if he’d just put the idea out there and let me think about it, I might have considered his suggestion. But when he dropped the idea like a royal freaking edict, that was too much. It challenged me. He’d drawn a line in the sand. Maybe it was the worry over D2 and Mom, maybe it was last minute nerves about the entire party, being engaged, and life beyond that. Maybe it was Montreal in summer and the dense humidity. Maybe I was just plain tired of the way he laid down rules and expected them to become law.
I exhaled slowly before answering. “That apartment is part of me and who I am. I’m paying for it with my own money. I have no financial need to sell it, so I’d rather keep it as spare guest accommodation or something. Maybe I’ll rent it out. I’m not sure.”
I yawned to try to show how unimportant the matter was, trying to distance myself from the entire conversation. Meanwhile, my heart tried to hammer its way out of my chest. The whole question of my apartment could be left in the tomorrow basket. It was my fallback position, the place I could always go to if things didn’t work with him.
Simon went silent, playing with the scar on his right thumb. I wasn’t after a fight, just a postponement of the discussion. But he sensed me holding back, just like I sensed his growing frustration at my refusal to just give in to him the way he expected.
I decided to change the subject.
“As to Ronnie, I’ve got a plan.” I scooted as close to him as my seatbelt allowed and picked up his hand and started massaging it gently. His skin was warm, and I loved the strength in those long, masculine fingers.
“How about I go shopping with her this week? She suggested we might do that on the plane, but I put her off. I’m sure she’ll be delighted to be paid for the privilege of getting closer to me, and therefore to you. Mom and D2 can’t need me every hour of every day. I should have time to see her before I head back home.”
Simon looked at me with slightly hooded eyes and ignored my feeble attempt at a red herring. “That’s a good start with Ronnie. But don’t think we’ve finished talking about your apartment. I want you close to me, committed to me. As long as you hang on to that place, it’s like you’re hedging your bet, leaving an escape route in place.”
Biting my lip, I decided to drop the apartment discussion. If I pushed for an immediate answer now, the only answer he’d give me would besell it. He wouldn’t budge from his original position. Further argument would turn it into a Capital-I Issue and Simon would have to win. I knew what that looked like. The only effective way to change his mind was to plant a seed and leave it to germinate. I’d learned something in six months, even if I didn’t always act on it.
Sometimes delay tactics worked.
At other times he was as ferocious as a terrier and would never let go of his first decision. Those times, delays only made him more resolute than ever in his thinking and I’d end up with a simple choice: accept his ideas as laid down or argue, cop a spanking, and end up living with what he wanted anyway. I usually, but not always, took the shortcut.
Yes, he was often a tyrant, but he was my tyrant and loved me. For now, the question of my apartment could wait. I was grateful that he was letting the argument go.
“Tell me one thing.” I started massaging his other hand. “Doctor Mansoor referred to D2 as their million-dollar patient. Would that have anything to do with the SJ Jacobson Foundation?”
Simon grinned, his good humor bouncing back quickly, as it always did. “It may indeed.”
“That’s a ton of money to pour into something because of my family.”
He waved his free hand dismissively. “What’s the point of accumulating wealth if I don’t use it to help the people I love? The Foundation had more than that earmarked for a hospital donation this year so I simply decided to channel it where it would do the most good.”
He withdrew his hand from mine and lifted my chin. “It’s easy to be overlooked in a busy hospital. I didn’t want that to happen to either your mom or your grandpa and I didn’t want you to have to worry about either of them.”
He kissed me. “For the record, I arranged all this from Vancouver before I’d even met the old guy. After I saw the tenderness the two of you share, I’m even happier that I took these steps. Don’t you feel better knowing that he is being so well cared for?”
“I’d like to think he would have been well looked after even without such a generous gesture but thank you for doing it. I’m glad they have a vested interest in taking care of him.” Even as I expressed my inadequate words of gratitude, I kept imagining Mom’s reaction if she learned the reason why D2 was getting the royal treatment. Would she hate Simon and his wealth so much then? I wasn’t going to tell her.
“I can’t cure all the world’s ills.” Simon unclicked my seatbelt and pulled me even closer, pinning me to his side. He kissed my collarbone. “But I’ll do what I can to protect your family, because they mean so much to you.”
That was a major declaration of how deeply he cared. It meant more than the three simple words ‘I love you’ ever did. It declared his commitment in giant neon letters that popped up in my head.
