Total pages in book: 163
Estimated words: 164828 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 824(@200wpm)___ 659(@250wpm)___ 549(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 164828 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 824(@200wpm)___ 659(@250wpm)___ 549(@300wpm)
Nathan has stopped unpacking to watch the game, and I’m sorting the linen closet. I’m almost done. I have to go back to my apartment through the week and pack the rest of the things up to go into storage. Either that or sell them. Nathan says to throw it all into storage and we will sort it out later. We are too busy at the moment.
I tend to agree—we are too busy—and there’s the small issue of me going away on a conference with Henry next week. Worst timing ever.
I haven’t told Nathan yet. I’ve been skirting around it because I know he’s going to hit the roof.
“Come and sit with me, babe!” he calls.
“I just want to get this finished!” I call back.
“I’ll help you tomorrow night. You haven’t stopped all day.”
“I know, but I have a busy week next week, remember?” I close my eyes. Now. Tell him now.
“Why, what’s going on?”
“We have that charity ball next weekend, and then I have my work conference in Dallas. I leave Sunday afternoon, remember?”
I open my eyes and continue to fold the towels. I see movement out of the corner of my eye.
“What did you say?” Nathan comes into the laundry room.
“I have a work conference next week.”
“With who?”
“Henry.”
He glares at me. “No.”
“Nathan.”
“I said fucking no. You’re not going anywhere with him.”
17
Eliza
I roll my eyes. “Nathan, I have to go; it’s a condition of the job.”
“You’re not going.”
“I agreed to this conference at my interview and I can’t get out of it. I’m not discussing this with you.”
“Was that before or after he told you he was attracted to you?”
I open my mouth to say something smart back, but no words come out.
How does he know that?
“I misunderstood him.” I fire back as I march up the hallway, and he storms after me.
“Well, Eliza?” he calls. “Which was it? Before or after he literally told you he wants to fuck you?”
“He did not say that.” I snap as I walk into the bathroom, and I turn the shower on with force. “You’re making shit up now. He does not want to fuck me. This is all in your head.” I take my clothes off and get under the hot water. “Get out, I want to shower in peace.”
“I’m not making shit up, and you know it.” He growls. “Over my dead fucking body will you be going to a conference alone with that fucker.”
I shake my head in disgust. “Tempting.”
“Tempting? What’s fucking tempting?”
“Knocking you out with a shovel. It’s a work conference, Nathan, in a professional environment. I don’t go to your work things.”
“What?” He yells in an outrage. “I don’t go to any conferences without you, and you know it.”
God, he doesn’t really. That was a bad example.
I put my head under the water, hoping it will block him out. I wash my hair as he paces back and forth in the bathroom, livid.
“I know how this goes. He takes you to dinner, gets you drunk, and the next thing you know, you wake up naked in his bed, full of remorse.”
I roll my eyes. “You make it sound like I don’t get hit on, ever. I get hit on every day by men, you know, Nathan? I can look after myself, and quite frankly, I’m fucking annoyed that you would even say that, let alone think it.”
“I’m not saying it about you,” he splutters, “I’m saying it about him.”
I turn my back to him, my anger rising by the second. “Well, don’t. I’m offended at the mention of it. This is my job, Nathan. Get out.”
“Resign. Come and work for me. It’s only a matter of time before you do, anyway.”
“No.” Here we go again. “I’m not working for you, I told you that. Besides, I like my job.”
He narrows his eyes. “You do, do you?”
My rubber band snaps, and I step out of the shower. Water sloshes everywhere. “Listen, asshole, around the time I had this interview and accepted this job and the conditions that I had to go to this conference, you were snorting cocaine from strippers’ stomachs and getting a head job by a girl called Stephanie.”
His face falls.
“So, don’t you dare,”—I poke him hard in the chest—“have the audacity to slut-shame me for going on a work conference. If you want to fight, Nathan, let’s fucking go! Because I sure as shit have more to be pissed about than you do.”
He puts his hands on his hips and glares at me, knowing full well that he doesn’t have a leg to stand on.
“Do not bring this up again,” I warn him. “I’m going to my work conference, and you are going to support me like a loving partner. Grow the fuck up.”
He storms from the bathroom.
My heart races as the adrenaline pumps through my body, and I get back under the water. Eventually, I calm down and smile proudly. I won that fight, fair and square.