True for You(13)
“Morning,” she says softly. “Would you like something to eat?”
Her question is not the one I expected to hear first. Something along the lines of “Where in the hell have you been?” would be what I would have led with.
“You plan to make me breakfast like a good little wife?” I ask, and then snap my mouth shut. Yeah, I’d not only left her alone, but I’d left her without money or food. I rank right up there with pond scum. It doesn’t matter that I’d taken care of the food problem the same day I’d left. I’d left her all the same.
“I walked into town and went shopping,” she says, heading to the kitchen.
“You walked?” I croak. It’s five miles to Sweetland.
“Couldn’t find the keys to your dad’s car or I would have driven it.” She fills my plate full of fruit and some toast. “I couldn’t figure out how to work the gas stove or the microwave, so no bacon or eggs.”
“That’s okay.” It was more than okay, because I felt like parasite on the bottom of a pile of shit. I’d left her here, without any resources, not even the basics. She was wearing my clothes because my drunk ass had burned hers, for crying out loud.
“Would you like coffee?”
“God, yes.” And some whiskey with a shot of a vodka and a couple of six packs.
She pours a cup, sets everything on a large tray, and brings it to me while I keep standing there, doing nothing to help her. “Here you go.”
I take the tray and set it down, picking up the plate of food and a fork. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
“I want to apologize.” Best to get on her good side, before I tell her that I’m leaving again. Could this day get any worse?
Her face remains the same, smooth and emotionless. “Okay.”
“My temper got the best of me. It won’t happen again.”
“Because we won’t be together after today… or because you’ve decided to grow up?”
Her words, while true, sting. At twenty-four, and after all I’ve accomplished in life, you would think I’d have more maturity than to stomp out of a room at the mere mention of my ex’s name to pout for three days.
“I’d like for us to stay together, and I’m willing to make it worth your while.”
The corners of her mouth turn down. “I don’t want your money, Jackson.”
“If we stay married, then it’s our money,” I point out.
“Only if we have sex,” she reminds me. As if I need reminding of that.
I take a step toward her, and she steps back, her eyes wary. “I’m not asking for sex. I’m asking for your help.”
“How will pretending to be married help you?”
It wouldn’t hurt or help me, but since she doesn’t know that, and I can’t think of a real reason why, I make one up. “Because I can’t get the money I’ve earned until I’m… thirty or married.”
“Why?”
“It’s in a trust and that’s the conditions of it.” Okay, so I’m half lying. I really couldn’t get to my money until this year, but she doesn’t have to know that. Or that I already have access to it.
“What about your dad? Are you still rebelling against him?”
Damn. The girl doesn’t forget anything. “That’s just icing on the cake.”
“I’ll stay married to you if,” her hands twist together, the ring I’d given her catching my eye, “you’d agree to pay for me to take classes at night, at the local college? On the bulletin board near the town hall, I found the flyer for ones they’re offering—”
That’s what she wants—an education? Not a lump sum of money? “Deal.”
Her face lights up. I’ve never seen her so happy, not since the time I tried teaching her how to play guitar. I grin, unable to help myself. Her joy is that contagious. My guilt is gone, replaced by the certainty that while I’m away in New York, Bliss will be fully occupied. She’ll want for nothing while I’m away, too.
Whatever she needs, I’ll gladly supply it before I go.
“I’ll go sign up today,” she says, practically bouncing toward the stairs.
I rub my hands together. Being married is a hell of a lot easier than I’d thought. I planned to be married for as long as it pissed off Everett. Which most likely meant that Bliss and I would be together until someone murdered him in his sleep.
“While you do that, I’ll take a shower, and then later we can go get some lunch to celebrate.”
She stops at the top of the stairs. “I can’t.”