“You know that’s not what I do,” I snapped back. “That book is for the project I start on Monday.”
“Oh, yes, your little writing career,” he said, shaking his head. “I guess you might as well get it out of your system while you are still able to.”
“What?” I asked. “My career is actually a career. Last time I checked, I make very close to what you make a month, from my little writing career.”
“Yes, Bea, you make good money now, but we both know it’s not sustainable.” He sighed. “Anyway, get your things. We should be going.”
“No,” I said, taking a deep breath and deciding to stand up for myself. “I want to spend time with you alone, not with some rich, snooty people.”
“Those rich, snooty people pay my bills,” he said. “And award me the luxury of taking my girlfriend, who doesn’t appreciate anything, out to a nice restaurant.”
“I appreciate everything you do,” I said, pausing as his phone began to ring. He looked down and hit the ignore button. “No, please. By all means, answer your phone. I’ve never stopped you before.”
“Is this what happens when you read romance? You become indignant and disrespectful?”
“I am neither of those things,” I replied. “I just want you to bend to what I want for once.”
“Oh, you mean all those nights I come here to eat your mediocre meals, listen to you talk about your meaningless ‘career,’ and just smile along with
it?”
“You asshole,” I muttered. “I work hard to make sure you have a nice dinner, even after I, too, have worked all day.”
“Yes, it must be so difficult to work in the next room over from your bedroom,” he scoffed. “Listen, are you coming or not?”
“No,” I replied, folding my arms in front of me.
“Fine, but it is the last time you will ever be offered,” he replied.
“What is that supposed to mean?”
“It means that I don’t want to be with you anymore,” he replied, walking toward the door. “We are through. The fun has worn off, and I’m tired of your games.”
“You don’t mean that,” I gasped. “After all these years? We were planning a family.”
“Yes, well, I don’t think you are quite up to standards to be the mother of my children, or my wife, for that matter,” he replied, opening the door. “Have fun with you romance novels.”
With that, he walked out, slamming the door behind his arrogant ass. I stood there with my mouth hanging open, shocked at what just happened. I sat down on the couch and looked around, waiting for the rush of emotions to take over, but they never did. I should have been bawling my eyes out, completely heartbroken, but the tears never came. In fact, beyond just the lack of sad feelings, I felt almost a sense of freedom.
I felt a break in the chains that were binding me, like I could now take a deep breath. I thought for so long, that if the time ever came where Grant and I didn’t make it, I would be completely inconsolable, dreaming of a life that I would never have. Instead, I was almost relieved that it wasn’t going to be the life that I would have. I didn’t want to be stuck in my home, wondering where my husband was, trying to console a child that missed its father. I didn’t want to be a lonely housewife, doing laundry, cooking dinners, and dreaming of a life I once had.
I got up and walked into the kitchen, pulling out a bottle of wine and uncorking it. At first, I took a swig straight from the bottle, staring off in disbelief of how the events of the evening had just transpired. I did not see that coming at all. I grabbed a clean glass and poured myself a large helping of wine and then turned and walked over to the patio doors. I stood there for a moment and then opened them, stepping out into the snow in my socked feet, making sure that I was not dreaming. I felt the snowflakes falling on my face, and I closed my eyes, smiling for just a second before the chill of the wind pushed me back inside. I pulled off my socks and ran over to the fireplace, pulling them up to warm them.
As I sat there smiling, I soon felt the weight of the last three years hit me right in the face. I had been so intent on having that picture-perfect family, I had left the “perfect” part in the background. I had ignored every snide comment, every grab at my arm a little too tight, and had justified Grant’s constant downgrading of me as a person. I had let him control my emotions, my heart, and my mind for so long that I didn’t realize that what he was doing was wrong. Grant was just like his father, arrogant, rich, and thought there was a specific place for a woman. No wonder Grant’s mother drowned herself in the banter of the women at the country club where they lived. She was trying to make herself feel better. I had always thought his father was a pompous man who abused his wife, but I had completely blinded myself to the realization that Grant was the same exact way.
I shook my head and turned around, catching the reflection of something glimmering in the glass front of the fireplace. I stared over at the lights I had carefully strung across the deck, providing a beautiful backdrop to the enormous tree I had sitting in the living room. God, it was almost Christmas, and now, I was going to have to spend it alone. It was the worst feeling I had felt in a very long time. Christmas had always been special to me, a time with family and friends, but just a few weeks out, everyone else had already made their plans. My parents even had decided to go away for the holiday since I was being forced to spend it with Grant’s boss and his wife.
I stood up and walked over to the couch, throwing myself down and staring at the lights on the tree. I picked up my phone and scrolled to Hailey’s number, but I tossed my phone next to me on the couch. I wanted to tell her everything that had happened, but I knew that she would just give me something along the lines of, “I told you so,” and then try to get me out to the bar. I was not at all feeling like forcing myself to socialize. I let out a deep breath and pulled the blanket over me, reaching for the romance novel. Tonight, I would focus on me and get lost in a romance that I knew was just fiction, but made me feel a hell of a lot better about being alone.
Chapter 5
Cameron
Sunday had been even busier than Saturday, which was strange in my line of work since Sundays were usually the days these people traveled back to their lives and their jobs. Maybe the ultra-rich had the comfort of knowing their billion-dollar estates would still be there on Tuesday. We finished up the form portion of our class, and I headed inside while Glen saw everyone off down the mountain. I needed to straighten up the classroom and get it ready for Monday’s classes. I really liked having a partner in this business. It kept me from working even more hours than I already had to. I really was hoping that Glen wasn’t serious about this whole settling down thing because I wasn’t looking forward to doing this on my own.
Though I did enjoy my quiet time and having my space to come and go as I pleased, it was nice to have him there to talk to. On top of that, he had my back more times than I could remember, keeping me out of trouble and harm’s way. If it weren’t for him, I would end up in a lot stickier situations than I already ended up in. Case in point, Myra from the day before. I actually had seen her in the lobby, collecting her things before leaving earlier in the day, but I had ducked into the conference room and waited until she left, not wanting to deal with a teary goodbye on her part. Luckily, she looked just fine, almost excited to be leaving, which made me think she had more than just sand and surf to go home to. Girls like that always had complex lives, and I was not the guy that wanted to deal with complex.
I collected all the folders and put them back in the box at the front and pulled out the intermediate folders. The class the next morning was not for the bunny slope, but they still would take a class here before we headed up one level for the skiing. No matter what level they were, we were required to go over safety measures before teaching them some new techniques to help them move up to the harder slopes. This was my favorite class to teach because they weren’t just there to look pretty by the fire, yet they weren’t advanced enough to be snide and know-it-alls. As I set the last of the folders out on the desks, Glen came through the door, knocking his boots on the rug.