Her desk drawer was filled with enough little black envelopes to launch her own stationery store. Always the same, thirty crisp one hundred dollar bills. Never a check and never anything smaller, sometimes more and always tucked into the inside pocket of her bag.
In the three years they’d been together, he had given her close to a half million dollars. The apartment belonged to her, but it wasn’t where she lived. It’s where she and Eric lived their fantasy life. It could be their permanent life if she would just say, “Yes.”
“Sweetheart, I—”
“Honey, I think I know what you’re going to say and the answer is still the same, not yet.”
“You’ve got me all tied up in knots, but you’re in charge and I’ll wait.”
“Thank you. Now I want you to lock your door, lay down on the sofa, close your eyes and picture us naked and me kissing you from head to toe.”
“Baby I can’t I have…”
Kyla knew Eric couldn’t resist her anything after imagining her in her birthday suit. Three times a week she was either his breakfast meeting or an early therapy session and when he wanted to spend more time with her, she was both. And twice a week she was his dinner meeting or a VIP patient. After spending the weekend with his family, he was like a newly released prisoner, anxious to be with a woman again.
“I’ll see you at seven. Bye lover.”
Chapter 20
“I WANNA GET MARRIED,” ERIC announced.
Kyla leaned up against the headboard. “Excuse me?”
“I want, let me rephrase that. If I want to be taken seriously as a marriage therapist, it would help if I were married.”
“I see.”
“Most of the couples I’ve been working with are beginning to question my ability to treat them, seeing I’m not married. So, what do you say?” He waited for her answer.
“That was a horrible proposal.”
“I’m sorry.” He got up and walked over to her side of the bed, took her hand in his, cleared his throat and made a second attempt. “Kyla, will you marry me.”
She looked at him for a brief moment, before replying, “Baby, I’m not Susie Homemaker. I like things the way they are.” He stood up, looking at her with no reaction. “Like I told you before, I’m not interested in marriage.”
“We don’t have to live together, it could be like it is now. Only difference is, we’d be married.”
“How is that like what we have now? I don’t want to be legally bound to you, or anyone else for that matter.” She tried to read his expression. “If this is something you feel you need to do, then I think you should get married.”
“But you said you didn’t want to get married.”
“I don’t.” She stood up and put her robe on. “Excuse me.” She walked into the kitchen and he followed her.
“I’m a little confused. You agree with my decision to get married, but you don’t want to marry me.”
“That’s correct.” She poured two glasses of champagne.
“I don’t understand.”
She took a long sip and answered him. “It’s very simple. You need a wife. Let me rephrase that, you want a showpiece. Someone your patients can relate to, right?”
“Yes.”
“All I want from you is sex.”
“I thought you loved me.”
She brushed the side of his face. “That’s cute. Baby, I’m not in love with you and deep down, you’re not in love with me.”