“It is a chore,” he says without mincing his words. “I don’t know who the woman is at all. She’s a stranger who calls us up when she wants something. Ten grand for a new nose, fifty grand for a new car, two hundred grand for a new house.”
I frown. “That can’t be easy.”
He looks puzzled by that. “It’s the easiest thing in the world. Throw money at the woman and she disappears into her life. Then I don’t have to see or speak to her for another few years.”
“She’s your mother,” I point out. “Surely, it hurts that she only stays in touch because she wants something?”
“Why should it? I never really knew her. I never even began to care.”
“I don’t know how you do it,” I admit. “My parents lived with me my entire life, but I’m still resentful of how absent they were when I was growing up.”
“Were they working?”
“Yeah, they both worked.”
“Then their absence was justified.”
“Not really. Even when they were around, they didn’t really make any attempt to spend quality time with me. Mom was always with friends she met at some charity or the other. Dad was the silent type. He preferred solitude to anyone else’s company. Even if I walked into the room and asked him a question, he’d grunt at me rather than having a conversation.”
“He was there for you when you were getting bullied,” he reminds me.
I raise my eyebrows. “You remember that, do you?”
“Why wouldn’t I?”
I shrug. “Just… I’m never sure how much attention you’re paying me.”
“What does that mean?”
I regret saying anything now. I don’t know how to say this without it sounding weird. “I mean that my life is so boring compared to yours. And it would make sense if you didn’t care or bother to remember things I’ve told you.”
“Have you always had such a low opinion of yourself?”
“No, that’s not—”
My phone starts ringing and I grab it gratefully. Of course, the relief dies on my face when I notice that it’s Chris calling.
I put it on silent and turn the screen around, but I’m pretty sure that Anton has seen it already. “Um… it’s getting late, Anton. If I’m not cooking today, I should really get going.”
“You’re in no position to go anywhere,” he says firmly.
“I can’t stay here.”
“Why not?”
I look around the room, trying to find an excuse he would accept. “Well, because this is your home, for starters.”
“And?”
“And… it’s not appropriate.”
He raises his eyebrows and stares me down at me with those steely gray eyes. I can feel the blush coming on instantly. “Jessa, you realize we fucked last night, right? Right after you brought me dinner. Or was that something else you thought I ‘wouldn’t bother to remember’?”
I bite my bottom lip and try desperately to avoid his eyes. “I… that was… that shouldn’t have happened.”
“And yet it did. So, seeing as how that’s the case, I think you’re okay to sleep in my bed.” When I don’t say anything, he adds, “Just get a good night’s sleep. If you’re better in the morning, then you can get back to work.”
It sounds extremely logical when he says it like that. Impossible to argue. But I feel a little bit like an animal that’s fallen into a trap. The only difference is that it’s a really nice trap. The kind of trap that you want to nuzzle up and stay in.