I took it as a sign that she was genuine, despite my apprehensions. The only problem was, if my fuck-up caused her pain, I really was the monster here. And that was something that was harder to live with than a woman who only wanted my money.
14
KAT
With the last of the eggs scraped out of the skillet and onto the plate, I set the meal out on the table and turned to open the fridge. I had awakened early and let Mimi go home. Breakfast was on me today.
Bending low to reach the OJ on the bottom shelf, I felt fingers sliding beneath the seam of my panties, and the hem of Victor’s t-shirt get folded up. I chuckled, swatting at his hands as I grabbed the juice container and straightened. His hands frisked me, sliding across my curves as I turned to offer a kiss.
“What’s all this? Where is Mimi?” He followed me, handsy and greedy for more.
“I let her go home. I think she was not pleased to have to listen to those graphic noises that came from the bedroom so early in the morning.” Snatching a kiss again, I turned and grabbed a few juice tumblers out of the cupboard. Victor turned his attention to the table, though his hand stayed firmly on my hip.
“This smells delicious,” he commented, picking up a slice of bacon. A grin stretched across his face as he took a bite and simultaneously slid his hand into my panties to press my tender clit, still feeling hardened with arousal from the morning wakeup call.
“Enough,” I chided, stepping away from him. The juice completed the meal—almost. The click of the toaster reminded me that to go along with our eggs and bacon, I had put some bread in to brown. Victor sat down to begin eating as I plucked the hot bread out of the machine and dropped it onto the awaiting plate.
“So, what’s on the itinerary for today?” His chewing sounds triggered my misophonia, but I ignored the cringe and buttered the toast. The smell of the butter made my stomach turn, which was odd because I loved butter. I had to force myself to choke back a gag, and I put the cover on the butter dish as quickly as I could.
“Oh, you know,” Victor said with food in his mouth. “I think we will see about the bird’s nest in the light out front. I have a handyman coming to look at that and the dishwasher since it was leaking.”
For a Sunday morning, it was pretty convenient that he could manage to book a handyman, but I wasn’t complaining. The birds in the nest out front dive bombed me every time I came to visit. It was getting annoying. It would be pleasant to come for a visit and not be attacked by nesting sparrows.
I pulled the jam I’d purchased at the farmer’s market last weekend out of the reusable grocery bag and cracked it open. The sweet scent of honied strawberry preserves turned the scent of butter away, and my mouth started to water. The hunger I’d worked up during our escapade returned.
“Yeah, that’s a good idea. I think I’m going to buy some more pumpkins. Maybe we can carve one together? I know it’s sort of a kid’s tradition, but you’re never too old to have some fun.” With the plate of toast and jam in hand, I settled onto a chair and placed the plate between us. Victor seemed to be enjoying his eggs, but he eyed the toast.
“This is really good, Kat. Thank you for cooking for me. This hits the spot.” He shoved another piece of bacon into his mouth and nabbed a slice of toast. It was good seeing him enjoy my cooking. I hadn’t pegged him for a foodie or a food snob, but he did have Mimi, who cooked meals for him. And I wasn’t that practiced at cooking.
“You’re welcome,” I said between bites, thoroughly enjoying the fresh jam I’d purchased. When I left Victor’s house, I returned to the farmer’s market, intent on purchasing the jam I had tasted but had been so rudely stopped from buying. The entire incident was sour on my tongue still, but the honied preserves helped sweeten the pot.
“What’s that?” Victor nodded at the toast, and I snickered.
“It’s toast with jam.” I assumed he was asking about the jam, because he had escorted me away from the market before I could purchase any; however, I wasn't in the mood to fight. I dusted the crumbs from my fingers, and they littered the floral tablecloth.
“I mean the jam. Where did you get this? Did Mimi bring it?” He took a large bite of the toast and his eyes lit up. With his mouth full he said, “This is delicious.”
I could have lied—told him his maid had bought it, but I wasn’t about to establish a pattern of deceit in the relationship. Especially not after having lost him for what I thought was forever, only to find him again 10 years later.
“I picked it up from the market.” I shrugged like it was no big deal, but I could see the steam streaming from his ears as soon as the word “market” left my mouth. “It’s no big deal.”
“You went back there after you left on Saturday?” He dropped the toast to his plate and finished chewing his food, washing it down with a gulp of juice. “After all of that?”
I gawked at him, not believing the gall he had. “There is nothing wrong with me liking jam and purchasing it from the market. I went on my own because it was obvious you were upset or embarrassed by what happened, and I really wanted that jam.”
“What happened?” He pushed his plate away and wiped his mouth with his napkin. “What happened was I was humiliated by a man I detest. He probably spread juicy gossip about us all over town by now. Do you have any idea how infuriated I was?”
“Yes, I do.” Now I wasn’t hungry at all. “I was there, remember. You insulted me, called me a child in front of dozens of people, and then treated me like one.” I stood, and dropped my napkin on my plate, folding my arms over my chest. “Why didn’t you stand up for me, Victor?”
He scowled, looking away. I could see the meal was ruined now, and there was no sense in sitting back down to eat. He obviously hadn’t dealt with his anger over the man’s comments but directing it at me was not okay. I would not be his punching bag again.
“Hmm? Tell me. Why didn’t you stand up for me? Do you actually believe I’m too young for you? You think I’m like my mother—a gold digger out to get your money? Is that what you believe?” I watched his jaw tighten, and he did not look back at me. His gaze stayed locked on the floor near the fridge. His lack of response was answer enough.
I stormed out of the kitchen. If that was what he truly thought, then I didn’t need to be here. I was so much more than my mother ever had been to him, and I didn't want to have to prove that to him, as if I were earning his trust for something she’d done. I deserved more respect, and I refused to throw my dignity on the ground for anyone, least of all him.
Finding my clothing strewn about the room where I’d left it last night after dinner and sex, I didn’t even waste time showering. I just dressed and shoved my feet into my shoes, finding my purse, phone, and keys on the nightstand. My head pounded, and my stomach turned. I thought I’d throw up any second. I just wanted to get out of there before the little breakfast I’d eaten came up.
The last thing I wanted was for him to start feeling sorry for me and try to take care of me. I didn’t want pity, I wanted love. His confession that he loved me had been wrong. If he loved me, he would never think those things about me. My love for him, however, was real. Real enough that I felt my heart shattering in pieces.