Page 2 of The Woman

Now, I’m being forced to have one, and it frustrates me. I’m not that same man who’d become obsessed beyond control anymore, but the thought of having someone without a mind of their own hanging around constantly, used for companionship and sex, is not appealing.

Running a hand through my hair, I shift on my feet. Jeez, it feels stuffy in here. I adjust my collar and take in a deep breath, holding it in for a few seconds before releasing it, trying to calm myself down before exiting the elevator. I undo the button of my dark blue pinstripe suit and finally step out. A few of the other guys who work under me pass by, returning from their lunch breaks. They give a friendly wave and say, “Hello,” But I barely offer them a glance in return as I pass.

“Mr. Carsen,” Alex, who was walking a little further behind them, greets me with a head nod.

“Pixton Place file on my desk by this afternoon,” I reply, turning to face him.

He pauses, turning around, his forehead scrunched. “This afternoon?”

“You heard me.”

“But–” he starts and then cuts himself off when he sees my pinched brows. His shoulders deflate a little. “Okay, sure.” I’m almost disappointed at his lack of fight but pleased that it will be done while I’m gone.

As soon as I step outside, there’s a black car waiting for me, with Patrick, my driver. holding the door open. “Where to, sir?” he asks as I slide in.

I can purchase most of the items that I need to get from any store today, but I won’t be able to buy her clothes until I’ve made my pick and know her size. I silently grumble to myself. Another inconvenience of having to make another trip. I should just buy her whatever I feel like today. Too bad if it doesn’t fit.

“Take me to Monctons,“ I tell him.

He nods and closes my door, then sits in the driver’s seat. I’ll be able to get all the extra pillows and house shit from there.

Tapping my fingers on my thigh, I contemplate what I should do while he clicks on his seatbelt. Then, coming to a decision, I add, “And then we’ll go to Sherron.”

He quirks a brow at me through the mirror but says nothing as he pulls into traffic. Everybody knows Sherron is where you go to get women’s clothing, and he knows I don’t have mine yet. She’ll just have to make do with whatever I get her.

With a few minutes to kill, I pull out my phone and read the text I got from my closest friend.

Edison: How did the meeting go?

Me: Got the promotion.

Edison: I didn’t doubt you would. Good for you!

Me: Seven @ O’Malleys?

I already know I’m going to need a drink tonight, especially after having to pick up all this extra shit today.

Edison: Yep. See you there.

I pocket my phone and lean back into the seat, watching the buildings go by. I just need to focus on the positives, I guess. I got the promotion. I’ll have an office on the top floor. A pay raise. So what if I have to keep a woman at home?

We get to the store, and Patrick sits idling by the front door, waiting for me.

This place is ridiculously big, containing almost all home accessories, from bedroom to living room to kitchen items. There are even some things for the yard if you want it. If I had an assistant already, I would have just sent him.

I grab a cart, first putting two pillows and pillowcases into it, as well as an extra blanket. I won’t be sharing mine with her. Next, I add a couple of extra towels and then make my way over to the kitchen items, glancing at all they have to offer. I already have a couple of extra dishes for when I have the guys over, but I decide to grab a couple more anyway.

I continue on, throwing some more items in, not even really caring what I’m picking up at this point. I’m sure we’ll be able to get by with what I’ve got until I make another trip back. But even just the thought of having to do that when I could be focusing on other things pisses me off again, so I add a few more random things into my cart just in case and then head to the check-out.

I’m in an even more sour mood by the time we make it to Sherron. Standing in front of some dresses, I scowl at the delicate flowery material like it offends me. A chuckle from nearby hits my ears, and I turn to see a man and his woman checking out some of the other dresses, looking happy and holding hands. He holds one up in front of her, and she nods.

She would smile and nod at anything he held in front of her, though.

Turning away, I throw the dress into my cart and end up just grabbing enough clothes for her to wear for a week, not caring what they look like. It doesn’t matter to me since I’m not planning on doing any looking. She can wash and wear the same things the following week. I grab a fistful of underwear from a bin of assorted ones and then pick a handful of shoes. Then, I’m finally done.

When the guy behind the counter gives me the total, my eyes just about bug out at the amount.

Why the fuck do their things cost so much? It’s not like I can’t afford it, but that’s not the point. I don’t know why men get so excited about having a female when all of their items are double what they are for us.

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