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His eyebrows dip in genuine-looking confusion. “But we discussed this last night. You said you liked being here when I was at home.” His eyes narrow, and danger bleeds into the room, robbing it of all air. “Was that a lie?”
“I—” That hadn’t been quite what I’d said, nevertheless… “No, that wasn’t a lie. Of course, I’d rather be here, but I have to earn money. I can’t just sit around here all day and do nothing.”
“Why not?”
My mouth opens and closes for a second, not expecting that question. “Because… what would I do?”
He shrugs, stepping toward me. “You can do whatever you want. Explore the city, spend time with Carla.” One side of his lips hooks up in a smirk. “Go lingerie shopping.”
I shake my head at his attempt to appease me. “With what money?”
“Babe.” He sighs in exasperation. “I have more than enough money for the both of us. I’ll pay for whatever you need.”
My lips purse, not feeling right about that. I’m not the type of person who is comfortable letting someone pay for things for them. I’ve consistently earned my way.
Another sigh draws my attention. “It’ll only be until you find a new job. A better one. One in an office, so you’re here in the mornings and evenings, and then I can have you all to myself on weekends.”
Able to tell that I’m softening toward him, he smiles devilishly as he pulls me in against him. “That job was coming between us. We’ve been fighting non-stop since you returned to work, and I hate it.” He has a point there, I’ve hated it too. “Let’s take a little time to work on us while you search for a new position.”
He presses a kiss to the tip of my nose, and I’m a complete goner.
“Alright,” I relent. “But I am getting another one.”
His grin lights up his whole face, dazzling me with his white teeth. “Deal.”
We fall back into harmonic bliss once again. Without my job getting in the way, our problems disappear, and with all the newfound freedom I have, I actually have time to explore the city while Conor is at work, and meet Carla on her days off.
However, the powers that be take a pin to my bubble of happiness several weeks later when a loud bang wakes me from a deep slumber.
I blink groggily at the clock on my bedside table until it comes into focus. Four-thirty in the morning. What the hell, is Conor only getting home now?
When he wasn’t home by eight o’clock last night, I tried calling him, but it went straight to voicemail. It was only then that I realized I had no other way of contacting him. I don’t know the number for his office, or any of his family or friends. No one I could call to find out if he was okay.
By two in the morning, I’d been on the phone with every hospital in Boston, asking if they had a John Doe who matched Conor’s description. When each one came back with a no, I couldn’t work out if I was relieved or even more concerned.
I must have eventually passed out, although based on the heavy fog residing in my head and my swollen, scratchy eyes, it couldn’t have been more than an hour ago.
Kicking off the bed sheets, I stumble out of the bedroom and down the hall. All the lights are off, and I have to peer through the darkness before I spot Conor slumped in his usual high-back chair in the living room.
“Where have you been?” I admonish. “I was worried sick!”
When he doesn’t answer, I stomp over to a table lamp and flick it on. Visible by the light, I run my eyes over him, searching for any injuries or explanations for where he’s been. Nothing. Other than his rumpled shirt and missing tie, he looks the same as he has every other day.
“Conor,” I bark.
At the sound of his name, his eyes snap to mine. Danger lurks in the green hues, similar to the last time I was on the receiving end of his anger. I gulp audibly, my jaw clicking as I slam it shut to hold back anything else I might say.
All he does is stare at me, and as the seconds tick by, I get even more freaked out. It’s like the Conor I know isn’t even there. This empty vessel might look like my boyfriend, but he’s devoid of the qualities that make Conor Conor.
Swallowing back my nerves, I take a small, hesitant step closer. “A-are you okay?” I ask, wetting my lips.
Brazenly, I take another step forward.
Like a viper poised to strike, he jolts forward so suddenly that I don’t have time to evade his painfully tight grip as his hand snags around my wrist and yanks me forward.
I stumble and fall into his lap, but his other hand closes around my throat, preventing me from toppling over.
“You have no right to get on my case the second I get home!” he roars in my face. Spit hits my cheeks and I close my eyes against the onslaught. “No right to demand answers of me. What I do is my business.”
