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Damn him. Of course I don’t love her. She doesn’t want me. She wants my money.
“I might be high and fucked in my head, but I can see. You look at her in multi-color strokes.” He flails his arm like he was holding a brush. “Also, you haven’t punched me since we were in high school, which only proves you care.”
“That’s your proof? Multi-color strokes of my gaze?” I shake my head. “Be here tomorrow morning. I’ll make an excuse with Mother today.”
I go upstairs to make sure I got all the bottles. The state of his house is a concern by itself, but I don’t have time to address that. At least I didn’t find random women sleeping around, which in hindsight might be a bad sign.
As I walk around, opening more windows, I try to ignore the nagging feeling his words stirred in me. I can’t love Mila. As I told Conrad, I’m attracted to her, but that’s all.
Why does it hurt so much that she only wants my money?
Because I thought she was different. That’s why. There is nothing else behind it. I need to keep my distance. That’s all.
By the time I’m done, Andrea is asleep. I drop the box by the door and look for his keys. When I find them, I walk to his kitchen and check his fridge. It’s fully stocked.
His housekeeper must have been here recently. Or by the state of his house, he probably hasn’t been eating.
Well, he can survive one more day. I reach the sofa and kick his shin. “Where are your spare keys?”
He shakes his head like a wet dog and then looks at me. Struggling to focus, he gives up and closes his eyes. “With my housekeeper. Why? Are you moving in with me?”
“I’d rather die, but I’m not letting you meet similar fate. I’m calling my security and leaving them strict instructions. You’re under lockdown, bro. See you tomorrow morning.”
“Don’t you dare.” His protest is weak. He doesn’t even stand up.
I lock the back door, and then dial the clinic and make an appointment for the morning.
I get into the car and fall asleep on the way home. When my driver wakes me, I’m a bit disoriented. Jesus, I need some shuteye before getting to my mother’s.
The house is silent. “Mila,” I call, but there is no answer.
She’s free to do whatever she wants. Perhaps she visited her sister, or is at work. Or anywhere really, but a part of me wishes she was here. I’ve no right to expect her to be waiting for me.
But I want to have the privilege.What?
I take a long shower, hoping to shake off the empty feeling. Something has to change. Can I get past her motivations and pretend we’re a normal couple? Does she even want that? She has no reason to spend time with me beyond the social obligations.
God, I wish I could plug this into a spreadsheet, asses the risk and opportunities. Without all of this unknown. Like a dance I haven’t learned the steps to, this relationship forces me to trip over my own feet all the time.
We need to get out of this whirl of events, and all the pretense, or we need to call it quits. I can’t afford this constant distraction.
I walk into my closet, glancing at the bed as I pass. Has she been sleeping here since I left? Has she returned to the guest bedroom? My fingers itch to grab the phone and call her. See where she is. Join her, even.
What is wrong with me? I get dressed and flop on my bed. I grab my phone. I have two reports to approve. I might as well read those before leaving.
An unopened message blinks on the screen. Mila. I let my finger hover for a moment before I open it. Since when am I worried about opening a message?
We’ve been lingering in this weird state of retreating and advancing for way too long. Everything has become awkward between us.
Mila
I’m sorry. I have a horrible headache. Give my apologies and regards to Bianca and the family.
What the hell? I sit up. Where is she with her headache? She hasn’t had one since I’ve known her. Not that I know of. I call her, but there is no answer.
I stand up and pace around the room, my heart rate spiking. Where the hell is she?
I call my security company. Mila doesn’t even know they’re following her, but as soon as my engagement was announced, my security specialist insisted it’s necessary.
