Anthony grunts. “You should shower. There’s a bathroom you can use in the guest suite, which is to your right. Unfortunately, I don’t have much in the way of clothes you can borrow. But I’ll call housekeeping to do your laundry.”
“I can do it myself. Thanks.”
I go into the guest suite. A four-poster king-size bed sits in the center. Two bedside lamps are mounted on the wall above small tables with drawers. Other than that, the room doesn’t have anything. The en suite bathroom alone is easily bigger than Bethany and Oliver’s master bedroom. The separate shower and tub dominate the space. The double vanity looks so pristine, it’s like nobody’s ever used it. The frosted glass stall has some kind of European shampoo and conditioner, plus a body soap. I wash quickly. The combination of ketchup, mustard and grease has filmed over my skin, and I scrub extra hard to get rid of it completely.
I come out of the bathroom wrapped in an oversized towel and see a black t-shirt with the Z logo on the bed. It’s obviously one of Anthony’s. I run my teeth over my lower lip and shift my weight. If it had been Ryder’s, I wouldn’t think twice about putting it on, but… It feels wrong, like a bride wearing a ring from a man who isn’t her groom.
However, the other option is putting on the dirty clothes, which is no option at all. Now I regret coming to Anthony’s place. I only decided to do it because going to Ryder’s home when he obviously expected me to—practically demanded me to—seemed like giving in. Plus, I was furious with him. I’ve made it clear that I can’t be with him if he doesn’t trust me…or treats me like the hired help rather than someone he’s actually in a relationship with. The fact that our “marriage” is only going to last a year doesn’t change how I feel, especially if he wants me to act the part of a devoted and besotted wife.
I sit next to the shirt. If Ryder had just said he’d decided to trust me, I might’ve gone with him. He’s an easy guy to crush on, and as much as I don’t want to admit it, I have feelings for him. It’s just that my pride and self-respect won’t let me let those feelings control me to the point that I’ll let him walk all over me.
Marriage and money or no, I don’t want to change who I am deep inside to suit his every whim. My earliest memories are about Mom being in relationship after relationship with men who were suitable only as providers of a roof and food. Those men never appreciated the fact that she always gave into their demands and put their needs first. In fact, the more she accommodated them the less they respected her.
But after watching Simon and Mom together, I know a healthy relationship is about give and take. I won’t give and give and give the way Mom did with those toxic jerks.
I blow out a breath, annoyed with myself. “Stop thinking and stop hiding.” I throw on the shirt and look for a hair dryer, but all the drawers in the bathroom are empty. I towel it dry as well as I can and put on my pumps. They look ridiculous with the T-shirt, even though it’s long enough to practically be a dress, but I want to cover as much skin as possible. My shield if you will. Then I finally go out into the living room.
Anthony’s already showered, and his hair is still damp too. He’s sitting at the counter in a white button-down shirt and dark slacks much like the ones he was wearing before. His gaze sweeps over me, and a grin pops on his face as he takes note of my shoes. “The shirt looks good on you. Keep it if you like.”
I flush with discomfort. “I’ll launder it and send it back.”
“Whatever you like.” He twists the cap off a bottle of mineral water. “Something to drink?”
“No, thank you,” I say, staying in the same spot. I rest a hip against the couch arm. It too is pristine white.
He doesn’t make any move to come closer. “How’s the baby?”
The sudden change in topic throws me off. “What?”
“Your unborn child. Is it well? I never heard anything about what happened at the ER, and obviously they aren’t going to tell me anything.”
“Um…yeah. It’s fine.”
He nods. Something like regret crosses his face, but his features settle back into a blank façade again. “If I’d known you were pregnant…” His lips turn bloodless as he presses them together and he shakes his head slightly.
“You were fighting.” I shrug. “You wouldn’t have been able to help yourself.”
“You sound so kind, but still manage to make me look like a monster.”
“You and Ryder are being monstrous to each other over a woman who died years ago. I’m not sure how I’m supposed to make any of it sound enlightened.”