Rhys worked the rest of the morning, cleaning out every kennel and enclosure, mopping the floors, and even cleaning the bathroom. When I finally had time for a break after my first surgery, I caught him inside one of the kennels, sitting silently next to Harvey. I’ve been checking in on him regularly since he’s needed so much love and care, but since I have so many other responsibilities here, I haven’t been able to give him all of my time. I’m just stretched too thin.
The difficult part is that he’s still struggling to eat. The IV fluids and antibiotics helped him immensely, but we need to get him to the point where he isn’t so terrified that it continues to impact his eating. It was clear he’d been on the streets for a while, but beyond that, very abused. He’s going to be a very slow work in progress, and I haven’t been able to get him to open up to me, no matter how hard I try.
Rhys stayed with him, unmoving, just keeping him company, and every time I walked by or checked on them, he was still there. This is exactly the type of patience the baby needed, and it almost brings me to tears to relive it now.
Shaking my head of the thoughts, I finish up in the shower and jump out, drying off and pulling myself together. I put on a pair of dark denim jeans and a sweater, refusing to get dolled up after a long day at work for company that I didn’t know about and don’t even want in my home. I know it will probably upset Blake, but like I told him the other night, my needs matter, too. It wouldn’t have been that hard to give me a heads-up that they were coming over.
Maybe I could have planned to come home earlier, and we could have hosted them together. Even if I don’t like them, I’m still willing to put in the effort if Blake would just communicate.
I look at myself in the mirror, moving from side to side, running the flat of my hand over the curves of my body. When did Blake stop looking at me like I was attractive to him? When did he stop craving me? The questions have plagued me for months, but now that I’ve felt the heat of Rhys’ perusal, I’m second-guessing if Blake has ever felt those things for me at all. I know with certainty, I’ve never been looked at like Rhys looks at me. Like I’m simultaneously the most precious thing in the world, something to hold carefully and cherish, and like he could drop to his knees at any moment and crawl to my feet to worship me in the most depraved, filthy ways.
Walking back into the living room, nausea rolls through me from nerves. Blake and I haven’t even finished our discussion about Joffrey and Lexi, and here they are, not even a week later, in my home, dining like I didn’t just tell my fiancé I hated their guts. He promised things would get better, and this week we have barely spoken, our paths barely crossing in the evenings.
Plastering on my best smile, I smooth my sweater over my abdomen and take a deep breath. I find themall in the living room now, drinks in their hands, laughing and chatting, the hollowness of their performative bullshit radiating off of each of them. They seem to talk in circles, every sentence buffed up to a shine meant to impress and aid in their self-satisfaction, rather than actually communicating with each other like normal people. I hate it.
“Bristol, finally. This is Sheldon Evercrest, my boss.” My eyes bug out of my head, of all the possibilities as to who this man was, Blake’s boss was not one of them. This must explain why Blake was so on edge. I just happened to take the heat of his mood.
Sheldon stands, adjusting his suit jacket and taking two steps in my direction, his hand outstretched. I politely accept, placing mine in his. A deep, visceral reaction stirs somewhere low in my belly, alarm bells going off in my head as he lifts my hand to his lips, placing a gentle kiss instead of shaking it.
It takes all the focus and restraint I have not to jerk my hand away from him. I look to Blake for guidance, for reassurance, but he’s just smiling broadly, as if he’s so pleased with himself.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Bristol. When is the wedding? Blake here won’t whisper a word of it at work.”
I slide my hand from his, immediately twisting my fingers together in front of myself as I swallow thickly. “Nice to meet you, Mr. Evercrest.”
“Please, call me Sheldon.”
Feeling uncomfortable with the situation and unsure what’s expected of me here, I just go with it, even if all I want to do is retreat into my bedroom. “Thank you, Sheldon. We haven’t seta date yet. We both have been so career-focused the last year that we haven’t made it a priority.”
“Well, maybe now is the time to make it one. A man is only as good as the woman at home waiting for him at the end of the day; he needs your support now more than ever. Especially now that he’s been promoted.”
My eyes shoot to Blake, who slips his hand around my waist, his fingers dipping lower until he’s practically groping my ass. There’s so much to unpack in Sheldon’s statement that I don’t know where to start.
“Another promotion?” I ask, confusion taking over, choosing to ignore his statement about a woman’s place.Asshole. If these are the types of people Blake has been around, it explains his prick behavior. Blake shrugs nonchalantly, as if this news isn’t a huge deal.
“He’s too modest, he’s a hard worker, your man. Very good for our business, and we like to take care of the people who are good for business.”
I’m unsure what to make of his statements, they seem almost cryptic. I never thought someone in finance like Blake could make as much money as he does, but the business he works for seems to be in business with some very rich people.
“I’m so happy for you, Blake. Will you still be doing their accounts?”
Before Blake can answer, Sheldon speaks up for him. “Oh yes, we’re just going to be adding more accounts to his plate. But don’t worry, we won’t keep him from you any longer than we need to. And maybe we can up our monthly donation to your little pet project in town for the animals to lessen yourworkload there. Perhaps get another vet in there so you can be home more, especially once children arrive. Now, the wedding! Do you have venues in mind? I’m sure I can pull some strings for you.”
What the fuck did he just say? Blake’s boss is the anonymous donor for Bloomfield Animal Haven? What the fuck is happening? My heartbeat thuds loudly between my ears as I try to focus on getting words out of my mouth while the shock settles in.
“No, like I said, we haven’t had an opportunity to think of anything outside the engagement. I think both of us are happy to enjoy a long one, and we’ll plan the wedding when we feel the time is right. For now, let’s celebrate Blake,” I say, hoping I distract them all from planning a wedding I’m not in any rush to have right now. Blake and I have a plethora of issues to deal with before I’m saying ‘I do.’
The night goes by like wading through quicksand. The men sip expensive whiskey, Lexi drowning herself in a bottle of white wine, while I sit there and wonder how long this will go on. Blake sits next to me with his hand over my thigh, his fingers pressing into the flesh. It doesn’t give me comfort or reassurance in an otherwise uncomfortable situation.
I typically love talking with people, but this group is a different breed. Conversation luckily stays off of me and firmly in the business category, with Lexi chiming in from time to time about the various destinations of their next vacations. I smile when necessary, playing the role of supportive fiancé, but my mind has gone off into a million directions, and none of them are right here.
When the night finally winds down, it’s nearly eleven, and I’m struggling to keep my eyes open. Blake and I usher them to the door, the men shaking hands and stepping out. Blake kisses Lexi on her cheek before saying goodnight and walking back into the house, leaving me with Satan’s spawn.
“Always a pleasure, Lexi. Have a good night,” I say, trying to be nice. But then her claws come out, and I imagine what it would be like to smack her head against the wall in a fit of rage. I’m not a violent person, in fact, quite the opposite, I hate violence, but there’s just something so smackable about her that makes me want to reach out and slap her.
“Oh, Bristol, I can give you the name of my personal trainer, you know, so you can lose some of the weight before your big day. I’d hate for you to be limited on dress options because of your size.”
If the floor could open up and swallow me whole right now, I would love for it to do me that kindness. What an absolute bitch. I’m second-guessing not being a violent person.
