“That’s what you’d spend your time doing?”
“That, and I’d like a few chickens, but I don’t know how good I’d actually be at keeping them alive.”
“Chickens? Why would you want chickens?”
Shrugging, I tell him, “As a child, it was mostly just me and my mom. I didn’t have any friends. Boys have dogs, so why can’t a girl have a chicken?”
“Wouldn’t a cat suit you better?”
“Cats are free, and I’ve always been caged.”
“Don’t chickens have the run of the farm?”
“I suppose some do, but many are kept in coops, sometimes to manage them better, other times for their own safety. Still, whether they know it or not, they have no freedom.”
Perhaps I was too honest, but being honest at the right times is essential to my mission.
“I’m sorry to have to tell you this, but I’ll not be having chickens running around any of my penthouses.”
“Then you really should relieve Jade of her duties.”
He cocks his head to the side. “Pardon?”
“I know a chicken head when I see one,” I snicker.
He belts out a laugh, a smile lingering on his lips.
“I see you don’t deny it.”
“Does it make you jealous?”
“Why would I have reason to be? As you so clearly indicated during our short courtship, this isn’t about love. It’s about securing your line. You could have easily chosen to marry her and she would have jumped at the opportunity. Yet, it’s me you picked,” I say, spelling it out for him that his shenanigans won’t make me jealous, which is a bold move.
My entire image was crafted to be sweet and innocent. Docile and pure. Breaking from that is undoubtedly a mistake, but the façade isn’t easy to maintain around my cocky husband.
Perhaps if I were smarter and more patient, I’d be a better actress, but judging by the intrigued look Mateo is giving me, I’d say I’m playing my role just fine.
He finishes a bite of food, sits back in his chair, and dabs his mouth with his napkin. “So, tell me. If what you assume is true, why do you think Jade is still around, giving you fertility shots each morning?”
“Because she’s all-in with you and hopes it won’t work out between us. Once I’ve somehow failed you, she’ll swoop in and show you how accommodating she is.” I tilt my head to the side and lick my lips. “How utterly reliable and devoted.”
“I see you’ve proven me wrong.”
“How so? I doubt you failed to realize your‘assistant’s’intentions.”
“I’d thought it was your mother who was opportunistic, and you were simply a pawn. Yet, here you are, just as calculating and strategic as she is.”
“I know a thing or two about motives, yes, but I’d hardly call myself an opportunist.”
“Then what would you call yourself?”
Go with honesty.
I look down at my lap, frowning. “A pawn, as you’d surmised. I’m a pawn, meant only to make my mother’s life easier because she couldn’t manage that herself.” I look up at him, locking eyes. “So if you think I’m some masterful player, dear husband, you have it all wrong. I’m a chess piece that’s well aware of how this game is played.”
As we finish our dinner in silence, dread climbs through me like Ivy, because I can see now that I’ve stepped too far from the person I’m supposed to be.
Stifle your pride is something my mother said to me more times than I care to remember throughout my childhood, as though it were a bible verse.
