King is as quiet as usual on the flight home. I glance at him every few minutes on the plane. I’m quiet too, but I’m brimming with questions, worries. I don’t want to feel any kind of way towards him, but I do. I’m scared and confused, furious, ashamed. I wish he’d just fucked me and gotten it over with. Now I have to wait, not until I think I’m ready, but until he does. In truth, I’ll never be ready. He’s going to have to take what he wants one way or another. Not knowing when is worse than just getting it over with.
When we reach New York, I’m relieved. All I want is to go back to the way things were. Instead, King gets my bags, and we head for his car in the same heavy silence that’s hung between us all day. He slides around to open the door for me like he’s some gentleman, not the guy who forced me to sleep naked next to him last night.
“I like your car,” I offer when he’s done loading the suitcases into the Lotus and has slid behind the wheel.
“Thanks,” he says, switching it on. “You drive?”
“I know how.” I don’t have a car—most people in the city don’t—but I have a license and I’ve driven Dad’s car. He wanted to make sure I was capable in case our house was ever ambushed, and I needed to make a getaway.
We leave the parking garage before I decide I’ve had enough of this weirdness. I’d rather just talk about it and clear the air instead of pretending last night never happened.
I turn to King as he pulls out into the stream of taxis and other traffic. “Listen,” I say. “About last night…”
“I’m sorry,” he says immediately. “I got pissed when I saw that man with his hands on you. I know you hate me, and now that I know about your brother, I understand why. I shouldn’t have handled you like that.”
I’m so surprised that he’s apologizing that I don’t even know what to say. I figured he’d wake up in the morning and force himself on me, but he barely said two words to me all day. I’d never in a million years have guessed he was feeling guilty. It makes me like him more, see him differently. He’s not some callous mafia guy yet. I could have done a lot worse.
I clear my throat and glance at him. “I’m sorry, too. Sorry we were both forced into this. I know it’s not fair to ask you to wait for me to be ready. Even I don’t know how long it’ll take, or if I’ll ever want to. So, I think you should find acumare.”
He shoots me a scowl. “I don’t want a mistress, Eliza.”
“I know,” I say. “You want a wife who isn’t a frigid bitch, as you put it. But unfortunately, neither of us got to choose that.”
“I didn’t call you a bitch,” he says. “I called you a brat. And that was wrong of me. You’re not a brat. You just act like one.”
I close my eyes and thump my head back against the headrest in frustration. “It’s not an act. I’m a frigid brat who’s not sleeping with you because I hate you and I want to hold out on you and drive you crazy.”
“Then why are you telling me to take a girl on the side?”
“Because I know you need that,” I say. “If I can’t give you what you need, then I have to be okay with you finding it somewhere else.”
“I don’t want anyone else,” he says. “I want you, Eliza.”
His words hang between us, heavier than the silence. The honeymoon was only a week, but it seems all that time alone together made this happen faster than either of us wanted. If he made me vulnerable last night, he’s putting us on even footing again. I don’t even have to figure out how to do it. He’s doing it for me, showing me his own vulnerable side, admitting he wants me when I haven’t done the same. He may have forced me to show that I do, that my body responds to his touch, but my heart will never want him, and I haven’t admitted it the way he’s doing. I admire him for putting himself out there when he knows I won’t reciprocate.
“I don’t want you,” I say quietly. “I’m sorry.”
This time, he sighs, adjusting his grip on the wheel and reaching over to lay a hand on my knee. “No, I’m sorry,” he says. “I shouldn’t have pushed you last night. I don’t want to put pressure on you if you’re not ready. But I only want my wife. No one else. So if I have to wait a month, or a year, or ten years, until you’re comfortable with me, then that’s what I’ll do.”
Ten years. A thrill of pure triumph goes through me. What if he means it?
“Then let’s negotiate how this marriage will work,” I say. “I want you to have all your needs met. It’s just like… Like I don’t want to clean, so we’ll hire a maid. I don’t want to have sex, so you can hire someone for that. There’s nothing wrong with sex workers, King. Dad has a club where a bunch of them work. They’re really nice. I’m sure you can find one you like.”
He gives me an incredulous look. “Are you fucking serious right now?”
“Well… Yeah,” I say. “I know you think I’m setting you up or something, but I’m not. I may be inexperienced, but I know men. It’s in your biology. My father might have gotten me a human chastity belt, but he didn’t shield me from much. I’ve been sitting in on poker games since I was five. I’ve heard the talk. I’ve met the kinds of guys who do this job, and you need a way to relieve stress.”
“Stop telling me what I need,” he grits out.
“I’m just being reasonable. If you need sex, I’m fine with you getting it. I’ll look the other way. And you don’t have to worry about me. I won’t have my picture taken with men at clubs or make you look bad. I won’t be with anyone else. I’ll be your good little wifey, and you can be a good husband by getting what you need from someone else and not putting that burden on me.”
“How would you like it if I was over here lecturing you on how much you need sex because it’s natural and biological...”
I shudder, wrapping my arms around myself at how close those words come to the ones I’ve heard before. “You’re right,” I say. “I’m just trying to make this easier for both of us. I’m giving you the freedom to do what you want, to live your life however you want. All I ask is that you just let me live mine the way I want. This is a marriage of convenience. Even if we don’t love each other, it doesn’t have to be miserable.”
We drive in silence for a while. At last, King moves his hand from my knee to shift, glancing at me from the corner of his eye. “Maybe we can work through it. Maybe if we get to know each other…”
I snort. “I don’t think so.”