Chapter 3
Cori
Being home soothed my thoughts a bit.
Not completely. I didn’t think there was anything that could stop my mind from circling the demands in that email and everything that came along with it, but being in my own space was a small comfort.
I decided on pasta. There wasn’t enough energy or motivation in the world to make something more complicated tonight. But hey, over the years, I’d mastered the art of quick and delicious pasta sauce, so this would be good either way.
I’d been annoyed about having to cook, but as I chopped up tomatoes and added herbs and tomato paste and a few other things for the sauce, I felt my shoulders relax. Cooking was something I enjoyed most of the time, but being a vet often meant long and odd hours, and a good portion of my days—especially with a rural practice—those calls were either stressful or exhausting or both.
Setting the water to boil, I checked my phone. Joel was due in about twenty minutes, and that was perfect. We didn’t live together, which was okay with me. I loved this little house, but Joel didn’t. He’d talked about us getting a place somewhere else, but that wasn’t what I wanted.
Or maybe Joel wasn’t what I wanted.
When I’d come to Garnet Bend to fill the empty veterinarian position, this was the first place I looked at. Two stories, tiny, and painted a sunny yellow with white trim, it was the complete opposite of the houses my family favored.
I was renting. My vet salary was nowhere near enough to buy. I’d made it my own, regardless. The landlord was an easygoing older man who didn’t care what I did as long as I paid the rent on time. So I’d painted the house a plethora of colors. The houses I’d grown up in were all cream and beige, and I wanted none of that.
The kitchen was a cheery yellow that matched the exterior. My bedroom was a shade of violet that trended toward blue, and the rest of the house was a smattering of the rainbow. And I couldn’t be happier with it.
Water for the pasta boiled, and I turned on some music. This day was ending better than it started. I was more relaxed, even though I was tired, and I was hoping maybe Joel and I could have some fun later. That I could talk him into branching out a little in our sex life.
The door opened behind me as I was straining the pasta. “Babe?”
My jaw tightened, then I forced it to loosen. “Kitchen,” I called.
I heard his footsteps make their way through the house until he entered the kitchen. He hugged me quickly from behind and kissed my cheek. “Smells good.”
“Thanks.”
This was comforting too. Even though we hadn’t been dating very long, he and I had known each other forever. Our parents were friends, so we’d run in the same circles when we were younger. He’d never shown any interest in me until I’d moved to Garnet Bend, but it had been nice to have someone from my old life support me in this new venture.
And my parents, for once, had actually approved of something I did where Joel was concerned. I had to admit, that was one of the reasons I was still dating him. If I was going to disappoint my family in my professional life, at least my personal life gave them hope.
I smiled at him. “How were the races?”
He pulled out a chair and slouched down into it. “Not great. A couple of the horses were really slow. Might have to have you come out and look at them.”
“Of course.” Joel’s father was in the horse racing business. And Joel worked with him, taking the horses to and from races all over the country. They had their own traveling veterinarian on retainer. Not sure why they would want me.
I waited for Joel to ask me about my day, but he was already looking down at his phone.
“That calf today was delivered safely,” I told him. “The owner is going to call me if the mom has any problems delivering the placenta.”
He laughed. “Well, he better not call while I’m making you sound like that cow in bed.”
I turned away to stir the sauce so he couldn’t see my displeasure.
“Hey,” he said. “I’m kidding.”
“I know.” But it was still in poor taste. Not to mention, Joel had never even come close to making me get loud in bed.
Nothing about our sex life was exciting to me. The things I would like to try with Joel seemed eons away from the ten minutes of missionary position he favored. I kept promising myself I would bring it up, but it never seemed to be the right time. When he was in a good mood, I didn’t want to spoil it. And when he was in a bad mood…I just kept my distance.
Problem was, he could run hot or cold with no warning. He’d been that way even when we were kids—he’d even gotten kicked out of a couple of private schools because of his temper.
I stirred the sauce and listened to the soft sounds of him typing on his phone. He didn’t try to engage with me or help with the meal. But I knew from experience that asking him to would just make him pout.
I wondered if my parents had talked to his father about what they were trying to get me to do.
“Did you see your dad today?”
“For a couple minutes, why?”
I cleared my throat. “Did he say anything about me?”
Joel looked up. “No. Should he have?”
“I got an email from my parents this morning.”
“Is that weird?” He got up and grabbed a wineglass and retrieved an open bottle from the counter, pouring himself a glass.
When it was clear he wasn’t going to pour me any, I poured my own glass before going back to the sauce. “Weird isn’t the word I’d use. More like blindsiding.”
“What happened?”
“They changed the terms of my trust.”
“What?” Joel was a trust fund kid, too. But his had kicked in at twenty-five. He knew what it meant to have something that you thought was guaranteed pulled out from under you. “What did they change?”
I didn’t answer, turning off the sauce and plating up the pasta for both of us. It wasn’t until I was safely seated at the table that I took a sip of my wine and told him. “I now only get my trust if I get accepted to and actually graduate medical school.”
There was no way they hadn’t consulted their lawyer to make sure I didn’t exploit a loophole by just being accepted to the school and then never going.
“Technically, you’ve done both those things. Vets go to medical school too.”
“That’s not what they want.”
He knew the whole situation already. We both ate in silence. The pasta wasn’t fancy, but it was good. Joel was shoveling it down. “Hungry?”
“Starving,” he said. “There wasn’t any catering today. Bunch of idiots screwed up the schedule.”
“Why didn’t you order something? Or have someone pick something up?”
Joel shrugged. “To make a point. They need to be on top of their shit and have things like meals ready for people like us. Besides, I like it when you cook for me.”
I stared at him, having so many problems with what he’d just said. People like us—as if he and his father were more important than anybody else. The fact that he’d gone on some sort of mini hunger strike—probably to get some poor soul fired—didn’t sit well with me either.
But what really stuck in my craw was that lunch had been well before he called me to ask what we were doing for dinner. He’d decided that he wasn’t going to pick up any food before I even asked.
I took another sip of wine, knuckles white around the glass stem. “I’m glad you like the food.”
“I like it when you do things for me. So—” he took another bite “—what are you going to do about your parents’ demands?”
“I have no idea.” I could feel my stress coming back.
“Let’s list out the pros and cons.”