She looked from the phone to him, her brow furrowed. “I just said I don’t want –,”
“I know that. But you also said, or implied, that you want a bolthole all of your own. Well, here’s one right around the corner from my penthouse. All for you, any time of the day or night. And what’s more, it’s yours to do with what you will. If you ever need to sell it, the property is in your name. The money is yours.”
“It must have cost a small fortune,” she mumbled with obvious disbelief.
“I suppose that’s relative.”
A flicker of a smile crossed her lips and his gut twisted. Hell, he liked seeing her smile. More than he should. There was danger in this marriage, danger in their proximity, but he was still so sure he could control it.
“So for you, it’s like breadcrumbs.”
“Peanuts,” he laughed. “And no New York real estate is quite that cheap.” He winked.
“Gray,” she sighed. “I appreciate what you’re trying to do,” she slid the phone back to him. “But I don’t get why. Why do you care what my bank account looks like?” The question felt loaded. Or perhaps that was just his haunted memories of the last time they’d been in a relationship, when he’d been so careless with her feelings. He wouldn’t mislead her a second time.
“Don’t you think I owe it to Charlotte?”
“Then put it in her name.”
“Our daughter is already very well cared for, believe me.”
“I do believe you,” she grumbled, as though that were a bad thing.
“When she’s a young woman, I want her to know that I did the right thing by you. I want her to know that men should treat women with respect, and most importantly, should always take care of their responsibilities.”
The color drained from Abby’s face. He’d said something wrong.
In an attempt to fix it, he rushed on. “Your father deserted your mother. He was a barely-there figure in your life, and that’s shaped how you view men, families and relationships ever since.”
She sipped her wine, no longer meeting his eyes.
“You want the family you never had growing up –,”
“Wanted,” she interrupted firmly. “That childish dream died a long time ago.”
“You want Charlotte to have the kind of father you longed for.”
She sunk her teeth into her lower lip, her emotional ambivalence so obvious, so he wanted to stand up and pull her to standing, to draw her into his arms and kiss her until this conversation was a distant memory and the rushed beating of their hearts was all that mattered.
“None of that means you have to give me expensive apartments or set up million-dollar trust funds in my name. Just being there for her is a huge improvement on my dad.”
“I know,” he said quietly. “But just because your mother was so independent and did everything on her own doesn’t mean you have to. Do you think she would have turned down an offer for help, if your father had made it?”
Abby’s eyes latched to his, as though the question had never occurred to her.
“I’m not offering you money out of some kind of philanthropy. It’s my duty. It’s what’s right. I need to help you. Not just by being there for Charlotte, though I want to do that too. I need to support you.”
“But this is too much –,”
“It’s relative,” he said again. “Do you think anything less would be appropriate, given my worth?”
She seemed to be listening to sense and he was glad. He didn’t want to talk about money with her. It was a situation he wanted resolved, so he could just move on.
“I won’t use it.”
He laughed, and her eyes jerked to his, like the sound was the last thing she’d expected.
“Okay,” he shrugged. “That’s up to you.” He decided to quit while he was ahead. “I’ll have one of my lawyers bring some documents to you tomorrow, as well as your new credit cards.”