“I’m telling you now.”
She stares at me, horrified.
“You’re going to love it there, Hays.”
“I am not moving to London, Christopher.”
“What does that mean?” I snap.
“Exactly what I said. I’m not moving there.”
“You said you would live anywhere as long as we’re together,” I splutter.
“When did I ever say that?”
“Oh, you said it, all right; I clear-as-day remember. But what you really meant was that you would move anywhere for a pauper, but you won’t fucking move for me?” I bark.
“Would you move for me?” she fires back.
“If it meant we were together, then yes.”
“Okay, great. That settles it.” She dusts her hands together. “We’ll live in the country.”
I see red.
“Don’t give me your smart-ass fucking attitude, Hayden,” I yell. “I have responsibilities with Miles Media.”
“And what about your responsibilities to me?” she yells. “My work is in the country.”
“I run a multibillion-dollar company, Hayden. I need to live between London and New York. I can’t live in Bumfuck, Nowhere, while you play with cows.”
“Play with cows!” Her eyes bulge from their sockets.
“My job is important.”
“Obviously.” She throws her hands up in the air and then marches from the room.
“Get back here!” I yell.
“Go fuck yourself.”
Chapter 22
I march after her, infuriated. “Where are you going?” I demand.
“To bed.”
“Your bedroom is back here!”
“That isn’t a bedroom, Christopher; that’s a Tinder auditorium. I can hear the moans that are ingrained into the paint.”
“What the fuck does that mean?” I explode.
“It means I don’t want to sleep in there!” she cries. “I’ll sleep in the fucking laundry room before I get into that bed.” She marches down the stairs at high speed and up the hall into one of the spare rooms.
“What the hell are you talking about?” I lose all control. “Don’t you fucking dare throw my past in my face. Just because you chose to be a nun before we met, don’t dare judge me for having fun,” I scream as I follow her.
“And now I see the whole picture of just how much fun you’ve had.”
“What the hell are you talking about right now?”
She keeps marching.
“You are judging me based on your assumptions of what you think wealthy men live like. Do you have any idea how childish that is?”
She turns like the devil herself. “Am I wrong?” she demands. “Please, tell me . . . am I wrong? I want you to correct me if I am. That is a show-pony bedroom if ever I’ve seen one . . . do they all gush and goo when they see your apartment, Christopher?”
I screw up my face. What?
“Why are you being such a raving bitch?” I yell. “I don’t know who the hell you are or what malfunction has happened in that brain of yours today . . . but bring my sweet Hayden back to me right now.”
“Whatever.”