She looks uncomfortable. “I just want to get back into the swing of things.”
“And you can’t do that here?”
“It’s just—the tension.”
“Tension?”
“You don’t want me to be back at work.”
I can’t stop myself from sighing. “We’ve been over this.”
“I’m fine, Jax.”
“You’re not.”
“I am!”
“Cate, you don’t have to pretend to be on my account. I was there the last time you collapsed at work, remember?”
“That was—that was just a freak thing that happened.”
Anger spikes in my chest. “Was it? Or was it the result of weeks and months of overwork without your beloved boss ever giving a fuck?” The words that tumble out of my mouth are harsh, and Cate recoils.
“Sandra cares,” she fires back.
I put my hands over my face, then drop them back to the counter’s surface. “She’s given you, what, two compliments in the past year? Just enough to keep you hanging by a thread?” During our several day movie marathon Cate told me about the brief moment of praise she got on the day she’d first seen me at the office. It’s clear to me that this was a ploy on Sarzó’s part to make fucking sure she wouldn’t have to worry about Cate’s loyalties.
Cate’s face goes blank and cold. “I’m not going to argue with you about this.” She stands up from her stool and takes her plate to the sink, rinsing it off and putting it neatly into the dishwasher—never mind the fact that I hire people to do that kind of thing.
“I don’t want to argue with you,” I say, trying to keep my voice level. “I just thought that as a couple, we could discuss things that obviously have a serious effect on your health.”
She whips around, eyes blazing. “We’re a couple now?”
Jesus Christ. This is not how I wanted to have this talk.
“Are you saying we’re not?”
Cate crosses her arms over her chest and looks at the floor, her jaw working.
“I’m going back to my apartment, Jax. If you want, I can have someone come over to collect my things.”
“Don’t go.”
“Don’t tell me what to do.”
“I’m not telling you. I’m asking.”
“Because you love me enough to try to ruin my career?”
I get up from the stool and cross over to her, but she shakes my hands off her arms. What the fuck is going on?
“Cate, what the hell?”
“You don’t understand, because you have everything you’ll ever need.” She throws her hands up, gesturing wildly around her. “You’re never going to have to worry about money. You’re never going to have to worry about your job, or being forced to…forced to…”
Without warning, her eyes are filling with tears, and I am fucking baffled. Where is this coming from?
“Cate,” I say, reaching out and putting a palm on her upper arm, rubbing the soft skin exposed by her tank top. “What’s this really about?”
She looks up at me, her face pinched and pale. The last thing she should be worried about right now is her job. “You wouldn’t understand.”
“Give me a fucking chance, Cate.”
Her eyes cut away from mine, traveling around the kitchen, and then she looks back, blinking away the tears. “I can’t afford to lose my job. I can’t afford a single wrong move that might jeopardize it, and that includes taking more time off.”
“You could have any job you wanted.”
“That’s not—” She makes a frustrated sound and brushes her hair away from her face. “I want this job. I’ve busted my ass at this job for more than a year. Even if I wanted to leave, I’d need to be flawless up until the end.”
“I really don’t think you need to be so concerned about it.” Cate has a wild look on her face. There’s real fear there, but I can’t understand how it’s become so fucking powerful.
“I knew you wouldn’t understand.”
“I get it, I do—but Cate, the pressure you’re putting on yourself is killing you.”
“I’m fine,” she insists again, her tone shrill, and we’re right back where we started.
I hold up both of my hands. “Wait—just listen.”
She presses her lips together so tightly they’re white.
“It’s late.” She can’t argue with that. “We’re almost to the weekend.” Another neutral fact. “Just stay a few more days, and we’ll have more time to talk, figure things out. Maybe think about taking Friday off. They’ll be fine without you.”