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“No, you didn’t, but she hasn’t been given a choice lately.”
“I offered to throw out the contract.”
“But only if she stayed with you.”
“Yes, that’s a choice. The original contract or the new one.”
“They were basically the same thing. She was being forced to stay with you.”
“And that was so fucking horrible. Living in my mansion. Being with me.” His jaw clenched. “I offered her everything.” His home, his life, his heart but she didn’t want any of it.
“And here's the third thing. She hates feeling stupid.”
“I have never called her stupid or even acted like I thought she was stupid. She’s the smartest person I know.”
“When she didn't get a lawyer to read the contract and she found out about all the little”—she waved her hand around—“hidden tricks you put in there—”
“They weren’t tricks and they weren’t hidden. They were all spelled out. On paper.”
“And she missed them which made her feel stupid, and that all tangled together with her not being given a choice to—”
“She had a choice,” he said through clenched teeth.
“Okay. You don't understand. Let me see if I can explain it in simpler terms.”
He glared at her. Too bad looks couldn’t kill because then she wouldn’t still be yapping at him.
“As you know, in college you have to take electives.”
“Yeah.” Great, a trip down memory lane.
“Unlike most of us, Alison hated taking the electives. She felt they were a waste of her time.”
“They were.” He’d hated those classes too.
“You two are perfect for each other.” She rolled her eyes. “Anyway, one semester the elective she wanted conflicted with one of her programming classes. I convinced her to sign up for an art class that I was taking.”
“I bet she hated that.”
“Not exactly. The class with me was full so they put her in another class. Same subject. Same time but it was with a different teacher. Alison threw a fit.”
“Yeah. I can see that. She only took the class to hang out with you.” This was not helping him.
“But she enjoyed it. Loved it, actually.”
“You’re right. I didn’t know that she liked to draw. You can go away now.”
“That’s not the point.”
“For fuck’s sake what is then?” He tipped back his head and stared at the ceiling, praying for patience.
“The point is that she dropped the class.”
He looked at her. Now, he was confused. “But you said she loved it.”
“She did, and afterward all she talked about was how great the class was and the teacher. I'd never seen her happier than when she was drawing and painting. It was the first fun thing—besides partying—that she did in college.”
“Then why did she drop it?”
