Yesterday I’d fully intended to hire a planner and throw a huge shindig with a bar and live music. Now, I want him to feel my disinterest. Okay, so I’m not as disinterested as I make out to be, but dammit, I can’t afford for him to see how excited I was about his birthday.
“Uh…just a dinner, I suppose,” he says, rising slowly.
I follow him up, hating the disappointment I see there, knowing that to torture him on his birthday is the worst of the worst low I can sink to, but all’s fair in love and war, and at the moment I’m fighting the mac daddy of wars trying to win his heart.
I may not win, but, by God, I’m gonna give it the best I’ve got before ceding victory.
By the time we arrive at the Lucas building — yes, I am now officially back at work — he’s so out of sorts he hasn’t barked at me once about my lack of seatbelt, and I go into my first day back at work with a smile.
Turns out there’s a reason he worked so hard while on our honeymoon, and by noon I am neck deep in merger documents and meetings that are as cutthroat as they are quick.
Greg is trying and succeeding to arrange a merger between one of his ‘lesser holdings’ and the sinking Jeffries Enterprises, and together with Taylor they’ve been negotiating everything from cutbacks to packages and everything in between.
“God, I can’t believe I really am married to a cyborg,” I groan at three, when I get my first break, and collapse at my desk with the doughnut and tea Kim has waiting for me. “Doesn’t the man ever stop?”
“Huh, you should have seen him with the Yates deal. How he found the time to make personal appearances at the agency when he was getting everything else running and moved is beyond me. Even I can’t go that hard, and my kids call me the Terminator,” she laughs.
I devour the doughnut and scald my throat on the tea, I’m so hungry. I can’t believe I’ve eaten it either, not a doughnut, but I feel so loopy from hunger I’d had to stop and lean into the wall for support earlier.
“Han! I need the labor contracts.”
“No, no, dear. You just sit there and catch your breath. I’ll get those to him. You look positively sickly,” Kim orders, waving me down without too much of a protest.
I start checking emails and get so wrapped up I hardly notice that the sun has set and it’s past seven when he comes strolling out, a weary look on his face.
“You’re still here.”
“Yeah. I just got done. I don’t think it’ll last long, but I managed to get all the emails done, so tomorrow should be better.”
“Why are you still here, Han?” he asks as I rifle in my desk for my purse and the welcome back stuffed bear Kim got me.
It’s only when I look up that I notice the irritation on his face and realize I’ve stepped over some imaginary line he’s drawn. It’s hard to get peeved when I don’t know what I should be peeved about, so I just shrug and walk toward the elevator.
“You will leave at five like everyone else. I won’t have you working yourself to ill health,” he growls, taking my elbow and pulling me in with him.
Ah, the whole ‘you vessel for babies’ caveman attitude. I want to remind him I’d been working just fine with the previous pregnancy scare and that I’ll probably work just fine even when I do get pregnant — not yet, thanks to the birth control I’m still taking — but I just nod again and face forward, ignoring his displeasure.
“Are you all right?”
“Fine. Why?”
“You’ve hardly said two words to me.”
I bite down hard on my tongue and remind myself that laughter will not help me right now, especially not with this air of mystery I’m striving for.
“Hmm, just a little tired, I suppose. I think I’ll go to bed early tonight. I’m pretty beat.”
I know they said I shouldn’t withhold the goods, but honestly, I really can’t muster up any enthusiasm with him reminding me that I’m currently nothing more than a broodmare.
Nothing spells “I adore you” like being a sperm receptacle for a guy who hardly notices your existence outside the bedroom.
When we get home, I practically inhale dinner, and have the world’s fastest shower and it’s only as I’m pulling the covers up that I realize he didn’t exactly protest the idea of no sex.
I’m on the phone and conferencing both Lena and Chris when Greg walks in and raises a brow on his way to the bathroom.
“You said you were tired,” he mutters, and I hear the girls cackling as I yawn as broadly as I can and let my eyes droop.
“Chris has a sexmergency. You know how that goes. I can’t be too tired for her.”