“What is a lot?” he asks.
“All of it. The job. The second job. Taking care of my siblings still. Work-life balance.” I stop because I am expecting him to cut me off. To reprimand me.
But he doesn’t, so I go on. “I miss my apartment. I miss feeling like I can clock out and not worrying about anything. I miss going out with my friends and not feeling like I’m doing something wrong.” I feel like a leaking valve that’s got too much pressure behind it. It’s going to blow. “I miss… normal life.”
I’m crying now and I don’t even care. I hardly put on any makeup anyways. I think I forgot deodorant too while I’m at it. But I just don’t give a flying fuck.
I’m tired.
Ransome takes a step closer and puts his arms around me, a gesture that catches me off guard enough I actually gasp.
“You never need to worry,” he tells me. “Because I won’t let anything happen to you. Or your brother and sisters. Danger might be part of the job, but the bigger part of my jobs is protecting people from it.”
He gives me a small peck on the lips, something he’s never done before, and then pulls away to grab his coffee. “Get your things. We aren’t working today.”
“I don’t want to go to the penthouse, Ransome,” I fight him. “I don’t want to be alone. I want—” I stop. “Wait. Did you say we?”
Ransome gathers his things. “I did.”
“But where are we going?” I ask as he ushers me towards the door.
“You’ll see.”
“What are we doing here?” I duck my head so I can look out the window at the giant building in front of me.
“We are going shopping,” he says.
“Here?”
“Yes. Here.” Ransome unbuckles his seat belt and gets out of the car. Then he rounds to my side and opens my door too. I step out like a kitten stepping out of a cage for the first time, unsure if the new ground is safe. It’s a strange new world.
“This is… fancy.” My head turns to follow a valet guy as he takes the key from Ransome to park the car.
He places a hand on my back. “Let’s go.”
We walk inside the first store, a designer place with icy chandeliers and glass cases. Racks pepper the store holding only one or two items each, all fur and sequins. Everyone around us is dressed as if they go here and only here, and I have no idea what to do.
“I’m not sure if this place is me,” I tell him hesitantly, but Ransome is ushering me over to a jewelry counter.
“I don’t know. I think those diamond studs are very you.” Ransome motions to a sales associate.
“If I had to guess, the price tag is more than my rent.”
“Probably,” he says as they hand them to him. Ransome eyes them, checking the clarity and quality, and then just nods one single time. The woman smiles at him and boxes them up.
“What are you doing?” I whisper-yell.
“I noticed you never wear jewelry at work. And I think you should. I think you should wear it all the time, really.”
“I mean, I’d love to. But I can’t really afford it,” I snort. Then the smile drops as he gives me a look. “Okay, let me rephrase that. I don’t prioritize it.”
“Clearly,” he says dryly. Then he pulls me a couple inches closer and looks right at me. His eyes are stark blue and icier than the diamonds in the case. “But I can prioritize you.”
Before I can say anything else, the lady comes back with the little black box and a card reader. She presses a few buttons and Ransome hands her a card without even looking at her or the tag. Then his lips tip in a momentary smirk, and I have to blink to make sure this is real.
We leave the store and go into another one like it, and another. By the end of it, I have the earrings, a fur coat—I’ve never worn fur in my life—and a set of crystal glasses for “my occasional glass of tequila”.
“I’m going to call for the car. We need to look at furniture,” he says, typing a text into his phone for the valet retrieval.
