The girls didn’t seem to notice or care as they sorted through their goodies, but Jesse was clearly fighting—and losing—an internal war with each mile they traveled. His brow was low, jaw clenched, and his hands strangled the steering wheel until his knuckles turned white.
Eliana found it disconcerting, torn between nervous anticipation for the fight that was sure to come, and hilarityover the memory of how Jesse ground his molars each time Milo called herBugs. It was ingenious. She knew it was designed entirely to infuriate Jesse, but the memory made the ghost of a smile tease her lips. Nobody had ever given her a truly unique nickname before, something more than just a play on her name.
She didn’t have long to dwell on her feelings. As soon as they’d passed the threshold, Abby and Zoey sped off to their bedrooms, and Jesse dove right in.
“What the hell wasthat, Elly?” He began, spinning around and throwing his hands wide.
She pursed her lips, considering his confrontational stance, and shook her head. If they were about to have this out, she wasn’t going to be steamrolled. So, she took her time—hanging her purse up, pulling off her shoes, then padding to the kitchen to pour herself some water.
His steps were heavy as he followed on her heels. “Hello?” He snapped in exasperation.
Eliana sighed. “Yes, Jesse, I’m well aware of your feelings on the matter of me having a job.”
“No, well, yes, butno. I’m talking about Milo. When did you two begin talking?”
Eliana rolled her eyes. “Milo already explained that. He helped me drag the mattress out of the house a few days ago.”
Jesse frowned. “I don’t like it.”
“Well,” she shrugged, “I don’t know what we can possibly do aboutthat, given that he is our next-door neighborandmy new employer.”
Jesse visibly reacted to her confrontational tone, his head jerking back an inch, his eyes widening. But having talked it out with Richard, Clem, and Milo, after writing her side and reviewing the feedback from her readers, and truly taking the timeto consider the situation objectively . . . Eliana’s trepidation for confrontation had largely fled to make room for the newfound resolve steeling her heart. The hurt was still there, an ever-present ache deep within, but it took a back burner to the fury boiling just beneath the surface.
“Are you suggesting that you’ve never once had a private conversation with Bea?” she continued, staring over the glass in her hand, one eyebrow raised in a dare.
“I— Well . . .” Jesse stuttered.
“Because I’ve seen you talking with her plenty of times,” she continued. “And my friendship with Milo is surelyjustas innocent as yours and Bea’s.”
A deep flush inched its way beyond Jesse’s collar, spreading up his neck as he hesitated, looking suddenly ill.
Eliana smiled brightly, fighting to keep her expression in the territory of genuine excitement, rather than feral honey-badger. “Like how Milo offered me such a perfect,hands-onjob . . .” She widened her eyes innocently, holding Jesse’s gaze. “How sweet was that?”
“On that topic,” he said, latching on to the change in subject with alacrity. “Why didn’t you talk to me about it first?”
Eliana frowned. “Why would I?Youdon’t talk tomeabout your career choices.”
“That’s different.”
“How?”
“You know . . .”
“I don’t,clearly.” Eliana leaned back against the counter, her eyes focused on Jesse with an air of unapologetic curiosity. If he was going to be misogynistic, he may as well say it with his whole chest. “Explain it to me.”
Jesse huffed, pacing a step away and tunneling his hands through his hair. “I mean that I’m theprovider. My job is essential to our well-being. Our futures. I can’t go running to my wife asking permission every time I have to make a decision—there’s too much on the line.” He paused to throw out a hand in her direction. “But you getting a job would just be . . . ornamental. You don’tneedit. You’re not thinking about what it looks like. About how it makesmelook.”
“You realize that this is the twenty-first century? How exactly do you think it makes you look?”
“Weak!” Jesse exploded. “What kind of man does this make me—my wife out looking for work?”
“One who trusts andrespectshis wife.” Eliana ticked up two fingers as she tallied her points. “Who considers her wishes and wants her to be happy.” Two more fingers. “How about one whosupportshis wife’s dreams, rather than constantly discrediting them?” She dropped the hand, her brows drawing together in consternation as she paused and regarded her husband, a man whose opinion she’d once treasured above all else.
The disillusionment was startling in its sudden clarity. How shallow his lies were, and how backwards his beliefs. She noticed little things about his appearance that she’d never considered before—the unevenness of his scruff, the mild thinning in his hair, the bump in his nose. Little imperfections that she’d once thought endearing . . . now the loudest parts of his features. Without love to lend its rose-colored goggles to her vision, it was like a veil had been lifted, and she was shocked with the knowledge that she no longer found her husband attractive. The thoughts felt shallow . . . but it gave her peace knowing her body and mind were aligned in their distaste.
“You’re really going to stick with this whole job thing, huh?” Jesse grunted. “Thisis your hill to die on?”
“Well . . . someone may,” Eliana shrugged, “but I don’t think it’ll be me.”
