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“Catie,” he says, more firmly, “you can’t stay here.”
“I’ll manage.”
“Your determination and courage are admirable. But maybe I should put it another way. I’m not letting you stay here.”
I glare at him. He lifts his eyebrows. He means every word.
“What are you going to do?” I snap. “Pick me up in a firefighter’s lift and carry me out?”
He shrugs. “If I have to.”
“It’s not your decision. The babies will be fine, and—”
“Forget about the babies, Catie, I don’t wantyouliving here alone. We can talk about options—Kennedy said you can stay with her, or we can get you a nicer place of your own—”
“I’m your mistress now?”
“Jesus, I’m not Henry the Eighth. You’re the mother of my children, and I’d like you to live in a bit of comfort. Is that so terrible?”
I study my feet, not knowing what to say to that.
“We can talk about where you’re going to live later,” he says. “I can get you an apartment, if that’s what you’d prefer. Personally, I’d like you to come and live with me.”
My face burns. The guy is so fucking clueless. “Jesus, no!”
He purses his lips. “That’s not good enough. I want to hear your argument why that’s not a good idea.”
Irritation floods me. “You always want me to explain myself. I can’t do that. Not everybody can analyze their feelings the way you do.”
“Maybe you can’t yet, but you’re going to have to learn, because that’s what couples do when they communicate. So, once again, why don’t you think it’s a good idea to live with me?”
Couples? Irritation gives way to anger at his throwaway use of the word. We’re hardly a couple.
I continue to glare at him. “Do I have to spell it out for you?”
“Well, yeah. That’s kind of what I’m saying. I don’t understand.”
“I can’t live with you. Don’t you think it would cramp your style just a little to have the mother of your two babies living with you?”
He blinks. “Cramp my style?”
Christ, the man is dense. My face is growing hotter and hotter as he forces me to explain what I’m feeling. “Saxon, I… I like you far too much to be around you like that.”
“You like me too much to be around me? Honey, you’re making no sense.”
I get to my feet, and he rises too, so we’re standing facing each other.
“What happens when you bring a girl home?” I snap. “What am I supposed to do—stay in my room with the babies? Sit on my bed and listen to you banging the headboard against the wall?”
He looks startled. “What?”
“I know I’m not attractive like this, and I… I know you’ll want to see other women, but there are ways to do it, and don’t you think it would rub my nose in it to watch you, the way you are in Auckland, using Tinder, bringing them back to the house… I know we’re not romantically involved, but I do have feelings, and I don’t need your charity just because I got pregnant, and if I—”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa.” He puts one hand on a hip and holds the other up. “Just stop right there.”
I swallow hard, fighting not to cry.
He stares at me and circles his finger in the air anticlockwise. “Rewind. You said, ‘I know I’m not attractive like this.’”
