"What do you mean?”
"Checking in on my mom, then taking us out on a picnic, getting the picnic basket delivered, playing along with my mother’s delusions."
I pause, then flip on the indicator before I answer, "Your mother and I have a lot in common."
"How’s that?"
"Both of us suffered a shock—she, when your father died; me, when I was tortured. Both of us began to lose our minds. Only difference is, I hide it well."
62
Penny’s bucket list
Type at 250 words a minute （done!）
Have 5 O’s in the course of 1 night （I’ll settle for 1 tbh） => Almost made this one last night when he gave 4 orgasms. OMG 4 freakin’ orgasms!
Learn to cook a gourmet meal. => I wasn’t very good at it, but it’s the spirit that counts, right?
Act in a movie or a play—I’ll take a street act => It didn’t go down that well. :（
See the London Ice Kings play a game.
Swim with dolphins.
See the Northern Lights.
Climb Uluru in Australia.
Eat a chocolate croissant in a sidewalk café in Paris.
Be dominated. （Uh, maybe this should go up to the top?）
Find a man who cares for my mother as much as I do.
Be proposed to by the man I love.
Explore anal. （I’m chicken so this is right at the bottom—pun intended. Hahahaha!）
63
Penny
"I’m worried about him, Abby." I pace the floor in front of the desk in my friend’s office. Abby only comes into work a couple of times a week. The rest of the time, she prefers to work from home.
After Knight dropped me off last night at my apartment—he didn’t insist I come home with him, something that both surprised and relieved me, but may have left me a bit disappointed. I want to spend more time with this man who's showing such a different side of himself. And yet, I can’t completely forget what an ass he’s been to me in the past. Also, his cryptic comments in the car disturbed me. I believe he was trying to tell me something, without saying it openly. It’s almost as if he wants me to dig in and find out what is bothering him.
Is it something related to his capture and the time he was tortured? Probably. So, why doesn’t he come out and share with me? Especially after he agreed not to keep any more secrets from me.
I thought we were past the hiding things from each other phase, but maybe not? He asked me to give him time, and I understand why he’d say that, and I do want to be patient. But a part of me wants to push it. To find out everything there is to know about this man who intrigues me, frustrates me, and makes me want to slap him and demand he tell me everything, then jump him and kiss him.
"Argh!" I throw up my hands. "I don’t know what to do. I can’t sit behind my desk while he’s locked up in his office doing whatever it is he does and pretend he’s my boss and I’m his assistant and everything is okay."
"It’s probably why he told you not to come into the office anymore. He wanted to spare you the going crazy whenever you see him."
"And if I don’t catch glimpses of him on a daily basis, that’s worse."
"But you don’t want to move in with him, do you?" She taps her fingers together.
"Not yet. I mean, I do, but if I did, it’s like I’m giving in. And I don’t think I’m ready, yet."
“And why is that? You know the truth about Bobbie. Is that still holding you back?”
I shake my head. “I understand why he did that. And I’m proud of him for helping out his friend.”
“Then what is it?”
I bite the inside of my cheek, “I can’t help but think he’s hiding something else from me. It’s nothing I can put my finger on. It’s just an instinct, you know?”
She nods slowly. “When you’re married, you sense these things about your spouse, so you’re probably right.”
Of course, what I have with Knight did not start out as a real marriage. And now? Now, I’m not sure what it is I have with him.
“Knight’s been through a lot. Marrying you has changed him, though. He’s calmer, better adjusted to civilian life. For someone who, until a month ago, was held behind enemy lines, it’s a sea change in temperament.”
I lower my chin. “You’re right. Of course you are. Maybe I’m expecting too much from him? Maybe it’s unreasonable of me to think he’s ready to share all of his secrets with me?”
“Or maybe, he hasn't been able to voice what happened to him yet. He may not be willing to face things himself. And until he comes to terms himself with what happened… Perhaps, there are things he can’t tell you because he hasn't acknowledged them to himself yet?”
I draw in a breath. “Everything you say makes a lot of sense. And I want to be patient. I do. I’m sure, given time, he’ll be willing to share more, it’s just—” I hitch a shoulder. “I don’t know; I’m not ready to move back, is all.”
"When do you think will you be ready?" She leans forward in her chair. "Not that I’m putting pressure on you or anything. In fact, I’d prefer you figure things out completely before you see him again. These men,"—she nods toward the door—"they tend to screw things up in your head when you see them. You’re probably better off taking a job somewhere else and putting distance between the two of you as you work through your feelings for him."
"But if I do that, if I move out of the picture completely, wouldn’t that send a signal to your father that all is not well? Wouldn’t it make him want to change his mind about handing over the company to him?"
"You’re not living with him anyway," she points out.
I stab the toe of my pink ballet flats—yeah, I decided to switch it up from heels today. I woke up feeling like everything that could go wrong would today. In a bid to self-soothe, I opted for comfort over style. Pink baggy jeans and a loose top with my most comfortable cardigan over that complete my casual ensemble. Too bad, if I don’t look as polished as the stupid receptionist, or Giorgina, for that matter. Right now, it's time for some self-care, and if this is what I need to feel good, then so be it. I’m not going to deprive myself of what my instincts say I need.
And what about what he needs? He’s your husband. No longer fake husband. I don’t know what’s happening between us, but this relationship which twists my guts and makes me want to puke every time I think of a future without him is not a fake one. Not at all.
"I’m not pregnant," I burst out.
She stills. "Did you think you were pregnant?"
I pop a shoulder, unable to look at her.
"Hold on"—she stiffens—"is that why Knight married you? Because he thought you were carrying his baby?"
"That might have been one of the considerations, yes. But forget about that. You know how your father was hoping for him to have a child within the first year of marriage? Guess that’s not going to happen, either. When I told Knight, I thought he’d be upset, or angry, or disappointed, but he was very understanding. He told me not to do anything I don’t want to do. That if I'm not ready for a baby, he's fine with that."