Page 172 of Holiday Hire

He quietly says, "I didn't say that's what you are to me. Please don't put words in my mouth."

Still embarrassed I blurted out I love him, and hurt he's avoiding it, I snarl, "I'm not putting any words in your mouth. That's what you just said."

"I'm a single parent. Their mother is dead. All they have is me. That's all I meant," he claims.

I cross my arms over my chest and fight my emotions. I point at him, declaring, "They don't just have you. They have a whole family who loves them. They're surrounded by more love than most people will ever know."

He sighs. "Phoebe, you know I'm their only parent. I can't be reckless."

My insides shake harder. I toss my hands in the air and shout, "Stop referring to me as something you're acting reckless over!"

Tense silence invades the room. Neither of us moves.

Hurt floods me to the point I feel like I can barely breathe. I lower my voice. "So that's what you see us as? Just a reckless adventure?"

He puts his hands over his face, scrubbing it, then looks back at me, dismissing my statement. "Phoebe, don't create things that aren't there."

"I'm using your words, Alexander. These are things you're saying right here, right now. So don't act like I'm a crazy woman making stuff up," I retort.

He shakes his head, staring at the table, tapping his fingers against the wood. More time passes, and he meets my glare again, repeating, "You knew what the deal was when we got together."

Pain digs deeper into my soul, and another tear runs down my cheek. I swipe at it.

He says, "I'm not trying to make you cry."

I don't answer.

He adds, "We have to remember the kids. We have parameters in place, and we created those when we made our deal."

I feel sick. I put my hand over my stomach, hating how the truth is so harsh and staring me right in the face. I swallow the lump in my throat and lift my chin. "Don't worry, Alexander. And you're right. I knew the deal. So, I guess I've overstepped. I'll start looking for my next employer. I would appreciate it if you give me a good reference."

"Phoebe, don't be crazy."

"Don't call me crazy."

He puts his hands in the air. "Okay, that's a bad word, but you don't have to quit."

My voice shakes. "I'm not quitting, but in a few weeks, my employment's over, so I need to make sure I have work. Are you going to give me a good reference or not?"

"Of course I would give you a good reference," he insists.

"Great. Thank you."

"Pheebs..."

I stare at him, waiting with hope in my heart, but he never says anything else.

He's never going to love me.

I'm his reckless adventure, and now it's over.

I finally force myself to say, "Thank you. I appreciate the reference. Let's return to the normal employer-employee mode. This deal is only hurting us."

"Pheebs..." he starts, but once again, no other words come out of his mouth. He just stares at me with a mix of anger and helplessness in his eyes, and I can't take it anymore.

I add, "It's the best thing, and you know it."

He continues to stay silent.

---