“I’ve been trying so hard lately,” he says, his voice louder and more frustrated. “And you don’t even notice! Every accomplishment, I tell you about. When I get a compliment at work or learn something new, I tell you about it, but all you do is hum, and say something like, ‘That’s nice, sweetheart,’ without even looking up from your screen. Because you don’t care. All that matters to you is the money that comes into our bank account by the end of the month, and not the effort I put in. You don’t notice any of that!”
I bite the inside of my cheek, the accusation hitting me hard. In no way was I aware that I’d done this. Did I really ignore him the way he says I have? Did I make it seem like money is all I care about? I think I may have. Shit.
“And yes, I go to the club,” he continues. “I’m twenty-one and I intend to keep doing it. I don’t expect you to come with me every time, but sometimes I’ll want you there. You knew that about me before we got together.”
I nod slightly. “I don’t mind you going to the club, but I do mind it if we’re in the middle of a fight and you just leave.”
He glares at me, his face wet, his expression still hard, yet vulnerable, almost betrayed, and I wish I could take it all away. “Going out is my outlet. Yesterday, you basically told me I was a gold-digger, and because of that, I needed to get away. And maybe I was hoping that when I came back, you’d have come to your senses, and we could have a different sort of talk. That maybe you’d see how distant you’ve been lately.”
He leans away from me, creating physical distance from me now as well, aside from the mental distance there already was, and it feels like a knife is twisting in my heart.
“I don’t think you’re a gold-digger.”
“So you say.” He shakes his head. “I thought you were the only person in the world who accepts me for who I am, who loves me entirely. That’s why I’m so crazy about you. But if you can’t do that, then...”
He lets the silence finish that sentence, then starts lifting himself off the couch and—nope. I will not have him leave like that, thinking it’s not true.
At record speed, I scoot towards him. Before he realizes what’s happening, I wrap my arms around him, press my chest tightly against his back, and nuzzle his neck.
“Of course I do, baby. I love you more than anything. You know that.”
Honestly, I’m not sure if he does, but one thing that works in my favor is that he loves my hugs. He doesn’t want to push me away. I’m his big strong man, and I will always love and protect him. Now it’s up to me to prove that.
“I just got into my own head, that’s all. I . . .”
I swallow my words. I hate that I still can’t tell him why this happened. That it’s because of his father saying something about Luc being a failure that I saved. I let my conversation with him get to me much more than I should have, perhaps because his father seems like such a reserved, intelligent man,who thinks before he speaks. Maybe it would have been easier if he were a mean brute I didn’t have to take seriously. But he’s a businessman, just like me, and with a successful store, so the practical side of me tells me I should listen to him.
And maybe because of it, I stopped listening to myself... and Luc.
But I can’t tell Luc that I saw his father. It’s supposed to be a surprise, though I’m not sure I like it anymore. Now, to Luc, it might seem like I just started questioning him randomly.
Well... maybe I did. I definitely didn’t have to take his father’s words so seriously; I did that all on my own. I let someone else determine the nature of our relationship, someone I barely even know, and that’s entirely on me.
“I have no excuse,” I eventually say to Luc. “Other than work has been crazy, and more difficult to do from this distance, and the wedding was something I may not have had the brain capacity for, even though it’s what I want more than anything. I just started worrying about everything, and it went from bad to worse. I’m sorry.”
He sits entirely still, and I have no idea what he’s thinking. I can only wait, hoping he won’t pull away from the hug and leave. It seems to last forever, with my body feeling like a ball of tension, clinging onto him and praying that I didn’t mess up for good. No matter how tough things may get, I need him. I’ve known that ever since he left me shortly after we met, back in Brussels.
Then, finally, after what feels like minutes, he starts leaning into my embrace just slightly. I can’t help groaning into his neck from sheer relief. I know I almost have him back... almost. “After this, will you tell me about your work?” I ask, giving him a squeeze. “Every silly detail? I want to hear all of it. I want us.”
He nods, puts his arms over mine, and sniffles a few times before I can feel him relaxing.
“I want that too.” He presses the side of his head against mine. “And I know I’ve been a lot lately. What do English-speaking people call it again? Bridezilla?
I can’t help but chuckle at that. “Yes, that’s the word. You’re not there yet, though.”
He sighs. “Guess we’re both going through some stuff.”
“I’ll deal with mine. Don’t worry about it.”
“I do worry about it, and I think maybe I have a solution. We could get a... how do you call it?Un contrat de mariage.”
I think I know what marriage contract he’s talking about, but I won’t assume, and I’m not sure I agree either. “What kind of marriage contract?”
“The one that says you won’t have to give me everything if we get divorced.”
My mouth falls open. I would never have suggested it, even told his dad I would never get one, and now Luc’s bringing it up himself. “You mean a prenup?”
“Oui, I think so.”
