by Leanne Davis
“You were pregnant?” He didn’t like hearing that. Not one bit. “Were you trying to get pregnant?”
She shifted her gaze to his face. “No. Of course not. You should know better than anyone. ”
He stared into her eyes, and tried to read what was there. “You miscarried?”
She looked him squarely in the eye. “Yes. I did. And I was glad.”
“And that’s what made you sick?”
“Yes. It’s what got infected.”
He stared. Silent. Thinking. Considering. Her eyes looked big, sad, and hollow in her face. She was exhausted, alone and lost.
“Why didn’t you say something to me before now?”
“Say what? I’m the poster child for every stupid cliché there ever was? Say that I was happy that it happened? Say that I was glad it kept me from having to make an even more painful decision. So you could tell me what kind of bad person I am?”
“You’re not stupid. You’re not a bad person. And you didn’t need to go through any of this alone.”
She looked away and remained silent, apparently thinking, before she finally said, “Rob doesn’t know about any of it. He only knows about the infection.”
What did that mean? Why did he know, but Rob didn’t? Why didn’t she tell her own husband? The thought of their sex life filled him with an unreasonable jealousy and possessiveness. Bile nearly climbed up his throat.
Now he worried about how Joelle felt about the incident. He was sorry she had to endure the whole thing alone. Sorry she had no one, not even him, whom she felt she could turn to.
“Do you get what I’m saying?”
He looked into her eyes, and met her shy, scared expression on her tragically lost, lonely face. “I get it.”
“And–”
“And I’m sorry you had to go through it alone.”
“You don’t judge me? Hate me?”
“No.”
She nodded and looked away. Her shoulders seemed to slump with relief. “I can’t tell Rob.”
“What can you tell Rob? If not this?”
“Just not this.”
“Do you ever get tired of dealing with everything on your own, while still supporting him? You know, lots of spouses don’t work, but they usually do something if they stay at home. They cook, clean, help out, do laundry, do something. Don’t you ever get tired of doing it all?”
“I think you know how tired I get.”
“Then why is it I see it and he doesn’t?” Nick asked, hard pressed to mask the disgust from his voice when saying he in reference to Rob Williams.
“I don’t know,” she whispered, her eyes big, as something flickered in them. Fear? Why would she fear him?
“I shouldn’t be here,” Nick murmured.
“Why? Every girl needs her brother at times like this.”
“Except… I’m not your brother, am I?”
Her head moved back and forth slowly on the pillow, and her eyes held his. “No. No, you’re not.”
Silence fell between them, and he was glad for the shadows in her room. He wasn’t sure he wanted her to see what was on his face because he wasn’t sure what he was feeling. Why was he there? And why, suddenly, had Rob become his nemesis?
“Why didn’t you tell Rob about the miscarriage when it happened? Were you afraid? Has he ever appeared threatening to you?”
“No. Rob wouldn’t physically hurt me.”
“I asked you if he ever seemed threatening.”
She hesitated, and Nick read between the lines.
“He gets mad at me, he yells, but he doesn’t hit me or anything like that. And sometimes, he gets short-tempered with me, but only when he’s drunk.”
“Which is all the time. But could he be? Is he threatening you now? It’s a yes or no question.”
“No, it’s not.”
“Yes, it is. Since it’s not, the answer can’t be no. Why do you–”
“Please don’t ask it. Please. I’m tired. I can’t deal with that right now. What you want me to do, or what you think I should do. I know what you think; just please, not now.”
Nick exhaled a long breath and clenched his fist. But he stopped talking and stopped pressing her. He stopped throwing her unhappy life in her face along with her unstable situation, which could turn volatile at any time. The more Joelle pressed Rob to change, and try to stop the behavior that Rob craved and needed, the more potential for violence was possible.
“Nick?” He raised his head up and found her big, sad, black eyes nearly imploring him. “Stay here with me. Please.”
“I’ll do anything you ask of me. You know that by now,” he said, as he leaned back in the chair. Her eyelids dropped, and her arms were crossed on top of the blanket, with her dark tattoo looking bigger and more visible. How could a woman with a five-inch tattoo of another man’s initials on her arm, seem so young, so vulnerable, so innocent? And why did he care so much about what Joelle did to herself? Or her life? Or her marriage?
Why did he care so damn much?
Chapter Thirteen
Nick was gone when Joelle woke up to sunlight filling the hospital room. Seeing Nick was no longer beside her, why did her heart dip? Why did she feel somehow bereft, lonely, and left behind? Just because Nick went home? Of course, he went home. He had to sleep, work, and live. He had his own life. One far more complex, and more involved than her stupid little life and problems.
Rob returned, and to Joelle’s surprise, he was sober. She could almost recognize her husband this morning as the man she married. Looking at him freshly showered, shaved, with his eyes clear and focused, she could almost remember the husband she fell for. He took her hand as he kissed her, looking concerned, worried, and relevant. For once, he seemed relevant to her needs, and what she had to face.
Until he spoke. “Your bill has already been paid by your brother. Funny thing, I didn’t know you had a brother.”
Joelle blinked with surprise. She didn’t expect that from Rob’s mouth, nor the surly tone. He never had expressed any kind of jealousy, ever. Not in all the years, and all the men that came and went to be around the band, the parties, and her. He never cared. He trusted her.
“Nick Lassiter already paid your damn bill. Why?”
“I didn’t know he did, and I don’t know why.”
“Yeah, I think you do.”
“Why were you checking on the bill? You never pay the bills. You never even notice we have them.”
“I was trying to care. I figured your hospital bill would be something you’d stress over; but, turns out, there’s no need. Nick already paid it in full.”
“I didn’t know he was going to do that.”
“Why did he do that?”
“I told you. I don’t know. Maybe he felt guilty, because I work for him and all.”
“Why is Nick Lassiter listed as your brother on the admission form?”
“Must have been a hospital mistake.”
“It’s in your handwriting.”
She didn’t answer, and looked out the window. “He’s my boss, and someone reliable. That’s it. He’s nothing else to me.”
Rob paused; he was staring hard at her. “You’re sure?”
She gulped down the lump in her throat and whispered, “Yes, Rob, I’m sure.”
“Okay. You can come home today. We’ll talk more there.”
“Are you going to stay and take me home?”
He stopped and scowled at her. “Of course, I am. What did you think? I was going to make you walk home?”
“No. No, of course not,” she said, her cheeks flooding with color. She backed down immediately in the face of Rob’s anger. Of course, he came to take her home. Did she really consider he might not? Maybe she was to blame. She was too critical. She didn’t give Rob enough credit lately. He was here now, wasn’t he? It’s not like she was totally blameless. She was as much to blame, wasn’t she? For the rift between them? And the ever widening gulf?
“I’m sorry. I wan
t to get back to us. You know?”
“I do know. I want that too, baby,” he said, coming to her bedside, and kissing her long and hard.
She went home later that day with hospital care instructions and medications, all paid for by another man. She also went home that day with her husband, now sober, clean, and apparently, noticing her, and caring for her, for the first time in months. She went home believing that maybe this would turn out to be the best thing that ever happened to Rob and her.
****
Joelle marched into Nick’s office without knocking, one method for getting fired, but feeling reckless right then, she didn’t care. She missed fourteen days of work, and finally returned with her health almost normal. She felt stronger physically, emotionally, and mentally than she had for months.
When she walked in, Nick was typing away at his keyboard. At her sudden slamming of his door, he looked up, then quickly closed whatever was displayed on his computer screen. Always careful. Nick was the most careful person she ever met. And also the most controlled, and the most rich. Still, he had no right to interfere in her life without asking. He had no right to manipulate her, or control her, just because he thought he could. Or because he thought he should since she was so weak, stupid and inept.
She was all worked up into a healthy rage, which was all directed toward Nick Lassiter. He stood up behind his desk after closing out his files. His eyes widened in surprise at her abrupt entrance, not to mention her angry stance. She stared at him, having not seen him since that night he stayed in the hospital with her. He was perfect. Kind. Sensitive. Holding her hand and talking to her. He was where Rob should have been, which pissed her off more. Nick was too perfect. He did things just right, and did just what she needed. He was too kind. Too caring. Too easy to trust. Too easy to rely on. Too easy to need. And need desperately.
“Just who the hell do you think you are?”
Nick stared at her for a long moment, and his eyebrows rose up with curiosity. “That depends. What exactly are you accusing me of? I was just about to say welcome back. Glad to see you’re feeling better, but I gather you don’t want to hear that?”
“Of course, you were about to say that. You’re a master at knowing just the right thing to do and say, aren’t you?”
“Why exactly are you yelling at me?”
“Because you’re an asshole. A controlling, manipulative asshole.”
His eyes narrowed on her, and his face clouded up into an icy scowl. “What are you talking about?”
“You. You’re the most conceited, interfering, uptight ass I have ever had the misfortune of knowing.”
He leaned his hands on his desk, and she saw the muscles of his jaw flexing, tightening the muscles below his ears.
“What the hell is this? Mind telling me what I did to you? Besides giving you a loan and a job when you needed them?”
“You paid for my hospital bill. You didn’t ask, or consult me; you didn’t even inform me. Who the hell do you think you are? I’m not your little sister. I don’t need your continued charity. I agreed to your car loan, and your job offer. I didn’t agree to anything else.”
He sighed, straightening his posture again, and taking his glasses off before squeezing the bridge of his nose. “Yes. I paid your hospital bill. If you’d like to discuss it, why don’t you sit down and quit yelling at me like a five-year-old having a tantrum?”
“Oh, always so proper, always have an answer for everything, don’t you? Always know how to handle everybody, don’t you? Let’s sit, talk, be like grown-ups, all cold and polite like you always are? No, thank you. You’re exactly what I never want to be.”
“I don’t think you’re in any danger of that. The rainbow hair, multiple piercings and tattoos pretty much preclude any chance of that happening.”
“Oh, that’s mature.”
“No. But we’re not exactly being that now, are we?”
“No we’re not,” she said, her tone just as snide. She finally ran out of breath and was nearly panting from her angry exertion.
He stared back at her with eyes cold and hard. He was suddenly like the Nick Lassiter she suspected most of his employees regarded him. “Now why don’t you calm down and tell me what the hell your problem is?”
Joelle didn’t want to sit down. She didn’t want him to be right and tell her she handled this completely wrong thus far. Even though she did. He was right. And she should have sat down and calmly explained it, but she was seething inside. Her anger was brewing the entire time she’d been convalescing at home. She kept stewing over Nick and his grand gestures to her. Nick throwing money at her, controlling her. She most of all resented Nick’s offer to help her leave her husband. “And if I don’t sit down and behave just as the Almighty Nick Lassiter says I should, what are you going to do? Call security and have me escorted out of here?”
“Don’t be stupid. You’re the equivalent of hundred-pound wisp of hay. I’ll pick you up and escort you out myself.”
She glared hard at him. Rude. Insolent. Still, he didn’t flinch, or look away. He glared right back as he waited for her next move. She realized suddenly he could do it; he could kick her right out and be done with her. Fire her. Never look back. Nick appeared to be caught in that same moment of realization, and looked as cold and as hard-assed as the rumors that circulated around him. A little startled by the intensity she now sensed radiating from him, Joelle took a step back and looked away. When he spoke, his voice was low, controlled, and mean. “You were three weeks away from your health insurance coverage. Your probation period wasn’t over when you got sick. Company policy: we don’t insure until three months after your hire date. You couldn’t afford your car repairs, so how did you plan to pay for an unexpected hospital stay?”
Her resolve faded and her anger died away, leaving her feeling defeated, incapable, and needy. “I could have paid in installments. Poor people get sick too, and they manage. I’d have managed somehow.”
“As you always manage? By becoming nearly sick with exhaustion?”
“It wasn’t your call.”
“No. It wasn’t. I made it anyway. I knew you wouldn’t accept my help if I offered it.”
“You can’t do things like that.”
“Why not? Why can’t I help you?”
“Because it’s money that I can’t repay. A lot of money.”
“To you, maybe. To me, it’s nothing.”
“It’s not about you. It’s about me.”
“What? You mean the difference between making enough to feed yourself or not? You can’t afford the extra cost and you know it. Consider it my investment in you. You can’t work if you’re sick, which is what you are, more often than not.”
“That’s not true.”
“Yes. It is. You’ve been a ball of nerves and anxiety since the first time I met you. I’d have to be deaf, dumb and blind not to notice it. Just because your husband doesn’t see it or seem to worry, I do. So I paid your hospital bill for you. Tell you what, if it makes you feel better, you can pay me back, just like you’re doing with the car. You can work maybe a third job, and then we can watch what happens to you.”
“I don’t like to be handled, and I don’t like being your latest charity case.”
“You’re not my charity case. Your husband is. You support yourself just fine. It’s supporting four grown men that leave your resources so tapped all the time. So if it makes you feel any better, it’s not you whom I believe can’t handle her finances, it’s your husband.”
“Rob found out! What was he supposed to think of that? What was I supposed to say about that?”
“I don’t really give a damn what your precious rock star thinks of what I do.”
“You don’t know everything. You don’t know Rob.”
“I know enough.”
“You know nothing. Nothing about him. Nothing about me. I love him. I want to be with him. We’ve worked our stuff out.”
“In two weeks? Takes me longer than th
at to plan a vacation. Tell me, what line did he feed you this time? The song, you know, the hundredth one he’s written, will finally make it? The producers at MTV are going to front him a million bucks? If you would just cut back on your eating and buying clothes, maybe he’d be famous?”
Stricken, her mouth fell open. “That’s not how it is.”
“Yeah, it is. It’s always your fault. All of it. Whether he makes it or not is all on you. You fall for every line he feeds you. You accuse me of manipulating you? I’m pretty straightforward; you see what I pay for. Your husband is the master of manipulation and you fall for it every time.”
“He has a right to want my support. I’m married to him.”
“Yeah, the question is: why are you? And if you’re so okay with Rob, why do you need me so much?”
Her head snapped back, and her eyes flashed. “I don’t need you.”
He smiled softly. “Yes, you do. And have at least a few times.”
“Fuck you, Nick. I don’t even like you.”
He sat back down, pushing his chair toward his desk. Reaching across his tabletop he took his coffee cup and brought it to his lips, before putting it back down slowly. All the while, he kept watching her. She braced herself for the worst, waiting for it: for him to fire her.
“Feel better yet?”
“What?”
“This. Do you feel better yet? Yelling at me, hoping for what? That I’ll fire you? That I’ll let you screw this up too? Would that make you feel any better? Allow you to validate the existence Rob subjects you to? So you can go back to it with no one noticing what it does to you? Or the toll loving him takes on you?”
“That is not what I’m doing.”
“Isn’t it? Tell me this, have you ever yelled at him like you do at me? Perhaps one of the times when he quit his job, or drank too much, or treated you like a doormat; have you ever called him out on it? Yelled at him? Thrown something at him? Sworn at him?”
“I love him. I don’t want to yell at him.”
“No. You don’t trust him enough to yell at him. Or to tell him what he really is doing to you. You don’t trust what he’d do if you tried telling him to fuck off, do you?”
