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Silence greets me. And then, “I don’t understand.”
“We have a great strategy in place. We’ll stick to it. This gossip and all the lies aren’t going to stop anytime soon, and I’ll be damned if we keep showing up each day trying to put out fires. So, we do nothing but stick to the plan we’ve already mapped out.”
She’s silent again before I hear her blow out a breath. “See, this is why you’re the boss. I don’t know how you stand strong like this. I’d collapse into a heap if my family was being smeared all over social media. Right, so we stick to the plan. Got it.”
We end the call and I go back to my emails while Jameson finishes his call. When he puts his phone down, I look at him. “We need to talk about something.” At his questioning look, I continue, “Actually we need to talk about two things. Your rules about sleeping in the same bed and not having sex for a year.”
“My rules?”
“Well, that’s what they are, aren’t they?”
“They’re decisions to ensure this marriage is a success.”
I want to argue with him about that. Point out that they may have been decisions, but that they’re decisions he made on his own and then ordered me to obey, so really, they’re rules he made. But I don’t. I spent time yesterday figuring out how to approach him over this, and that approach involves honey rather than vinegar. Well, as much honey as I can stomach, that is.
“Right,” I say. “I understand why you think they’re necessary decisions, but can we please revisit this and discuss it some more? Can you honestly see yourself not having sex for a year? That’s a long time, Jameson.”
His face clouds with disapproval. “Is this your way of telling me you won’t last the distance?”
“And there you go making assumptions again. That’s not what I said.”
“No, but it doesn’t give me confidence that you can.”
“So, you’re confident you can?”
“I wouldn’t have signed up for this if I wasn’t.”
This man is maddening.
“Does it ever get lonely up there on your high horse?”
He ignores that. “We’re not revisiting this.”
I stare at him for a long moment while I process his infuriating inability to engage in give-and-take. “And you think I can’t compromise.”
“I can compromise when it’s needed.”
It’s taken everything in me to get this far into the conversation without showing my real feelings. That last statement of his tips me over the edge. “You know, I don’t think you can.” My skin blazes with the exasperation coursing through me. “I think you think you can but trust me when I tell you that all you seem able to do is whatever works best for you.”
We arrive at my office, and I gather my belongings as Jameson reaches for his door handle. “No.” I look at him and shake my head. “You’re not kissing me today.”
Of course, he doesn’t listen to me.
He meets me on the sidewalk, moving into me before I can stop him.
I try to stiffen myself against him, but my body has different ideas.
The second Jameson’s hand brushes me, I flare with desire.
He slides his fingers through my hair and bends his face to mine.
Our eyes meet and I see the same level of heat in his that I’m feeling all over.
“You make this fucking difficult,” he says before claiming the kiss he came for.
I want to push him away and give him my thoughts on what he just said.
I want to argue with him a whole lot more about his unreasonable rules and the way he denies me the chance to help make decisions.
