“Like speakeasies?” I ask.
“Like… I don’t know! Cool little places where he knows everyone. Kind of janky on the outside but totally swanky on the inside.” She sighs. “Look, I know it’s not like me to stay with the same guy for this long, but I like him.”
Of course you like him. He buys you cars as gag gifts.
I don’t know what’s going on with this Sean guy, but I also have my own problems. Like getting all these sequins off the floor so I don’t have to explain to Ransome why my dress exploded all over his house when he gets here. If he gets here. I’m sure he’s going home with Jenica after the party.
Because Jenica is his wife.
“Listen,” I tell Electra, coming back to the conversation. “I love you. And I just want you to be careful. And if you’re happy, I’m happy. But I want to meet him soon, okay?”
“Okay,” she says. “And maybe we can go for a drive in my new car.”
“I’d like that.” I force a smile in the hopes that I sound genuine. Even though I have no desire to ride around in her lovebomber.
But I do want to know who the guy is. She never dates men this long. She’s also never this secretive.
I don’t like it. I don’t trust it.
A few minutes later, I am finally sweeping the last of the sequins into the dustpan when I hear the door open.
I turn around to see Ransome standing there, his eyes narrow, his chin tilted in confusion.
“What are you doing?” he asks.
“I ripped my dress,” I tell him, and his eyes follow all the silver flecks falling into the garbage.
“I see that,” he says as he gently closes the door and walks towards me. “You’re also half-naked. And it’s cold in here.”
“I didn’t notice,” I say as I put the broom away and dust off my hands.
Ransome checks the thermostat and then disappears for a moment. When he returns, he has a black robe, which he drapes around me, as well as a pair of fuzzy slippers. He has me sit down on the couch while he slides them on, picking a sequin off my foot in the process.
“Why did you rip your dress?” he asks. He’s sitting in front of me on the floor.
“Because I’d rather not look like the bloated version of your wife,” I mutter, and Ransome’s eyes slice up to me.
“You’re not bloated. You’re pregnant. With my child.”
I can’t tell if he’s mad or trying to be sweet. Neither mood is appealing to me right now.
“Pregnant and bloated. Bloated because I’m pregnant. But what difference does it make?”
Ransome’s eyes slice up to mine. “The difference is that you need to stop comparing yourself to her. I might be married to her, but you are?—”
“I’m what?” I cut him off, ripping my foot from his hands and standing up. “The mother of your child?”
“Yes,” he snaps back, coming to his feet as well. “And I don’t care what people think.”
“Yeah, well, I do. Because sitting at that party today, watching her pour over you, being exiled to the bar where I can’t even have a fucking drink all while watching you kiss her in front of me?—”
“She kissed me!” he cuts in. “There’s a difference!”
“Like hell there is!” I snap back. “The only difference is at the end of the day she’s allowed to be with you and I’m not.”
Ransome grabs me, pulling me against him hard. His eyes lock on mine, as if to reinforce holding me there. “Who do you belong to,dorogoya?” he asks, his voice low and possessive.
I stare up at him as he stares down at me. “You,” I spit out.
