She said, “Babe?”
Will grunted. He shook the jar over the bread. A drop fell out. He ate the sandwich in two bites. The bread and peanut butter went back into the cabinet. The jelly was returned to the fridge because there was still enough to cover one tenth of a piece of bread.
She asked, “Do you like working for the GBI?”
He nodded, wiping down the counter with the wet paper towel.
Sara waited for him to expound, or to at least ask her why she had asked the question, but then she remembered that he was Will.
She asked, “Why do you like your job?”
He hung the paper towel over the kitchen faucet to dry. He turned around. Sara could tell he wanted to say something, but that was hardly an indication that he would.
He finally shrugged. “I like the hunt.”
“The hunt?”
“Chasing down the bad guys. Outsmarting them. I know I do stupid things and take risks.” He was watching her carefully, trying to read her reaction. “I’m sorry.”
“Why are you sorry?”
Another shrug.
“Did you think I hadn’t noticed how competitive you are? You won’t even let the jelly win.” The serious look on his face was the only thing that kept her from laughing. “Will, this isn’t shocking news. I know you get enormous satisfaction from your job. The fact that you’re so good at it is one of the many things that I love about you.”
He rested his hand on the counter. He was confused. He never understood when she didn’t yell at him about the things that he thought she should yell about.
She asked, “How much money do you have?”
His wallet was in his hand. “How much do you need?”
“No, I mean how much money do you have in total.”
He closed his wallet.
Sara tapped awake her laptop. She opened a file. She pointed to the number at the bottom of a spreadsheet. “This is my net worth.”
His face turned pale.
She asked, “Does it bother you?”
“Uh . . .” He looked like he wanted to disappear into the floor. “It’s not shocking news.”
“But, does it make you feel—” Sara hated that Dash was back in her brain again. “Less?”
“Less?” He reached down and typed some numbers on the keyboard. “That’s about what I have. Minus the house. It’s—less.”
Sara could see that.
“Does it bother you?” Will rubbed his jaw the way he always did when he was anxious. “Because, being an agent, making an agent’s salary, that’s probably not going to change. Like, I don’t want Amanda’s job. I don’t want to be stuck behind a desk.”
“You would be miserable behind a desk.” Sara told him, “Baby, I’m really lucky that the job I love to do pays well, but a paycheck doesn’t define success. Being fulfilled by your work, finding meaning in what you do, is my definition of success.”
“Okay. Good.” He nodded, as if that settled it. “I should take a shower before—”
“Wait.” Sara felt a weird flitter in her heart. She pushed the words out of her mouth before she could stop herself. “I want us to talk to a real estate appraiser to find out how much your house is worth.”
He stared at her, speechless.
Sara felt speechless, too. This wasn’t how she had planned to have this conversation, but apparently, they were having this conversation. “Whatever number comes back, I’m going to spend the same amount of money remodeling your house.”
Still no reaction.
She said, “I can’t sleep late when you’re banging around the kitchen.”
“What?” Now he was irritated. “I can keep it down. There’s no need to—”
“I want a second floor,” Sara told him. “I want a big soaking tub, one that can hold more than two inches of water. And I need my own closet. And I’m not going to share a bathroom with you, so you can take the guest bathroom.”
“Guest bathroom?” He laughed. “How big is this mansion?”
“I’m going to hire a contractor to do the work.”
He looked appalled. “Is this a joke?”
“You can do the trim work. That’s it. I’m paying other people to do the rest.”
Will huffed out an incredulous laugh. “You’re fucking with me, right?”
“There’s one last thing, and I need you to hear me on this.” Sara waited for his attention. “If we’re going to live together, I have to control the thermostat.”
Will started to protest, but then he seemed to realize what she had said.
If we’re going to live together.
His mouth was already hanging open. He closed it.
Betty walked into the kitchen. She laid down in front of the refrigerator. Will watched the dog roll onto her back as if it required his complete and total attention.
This wasn’t his usual kind of silence. Something was wrong. Sara was wrong. Embarrassment rushed heat into her face. She had hit him with way too much. He hated being pushed. They had just been to hell and back. She had told him she was going to destroy his little house with all of her mansion money. They had both been happy with their current arrangement. Why was she always trying to fix things that weren’t broken?
“Will.” Sara tried to find the right apology. “We don’t have to—”
“Okay,” he finally agreed. “But we’ll have to get married in a church. I want your mother to be happy.”