Page 26 of The Wrong Fiancée

I sat down on a chair and waved my hand at my two-personhand-me-down couch, which had seen many, many, many better days. It was steam cleaned, so there, he wouldn't get a disease.

He sat and smiled again.

He was a handsome mother, I'd give thebuggahthat.

"I heard about your sister," he began.

I waited, expressionless. I had no clue what he intended to say, and whatever it was, I wanted him to finish so I could take a shower and get to my next shift. Some of us didn't have the privilege to sit aroundenjoyinglife like him and his friends, I thought caustically.

Stop it, Elika. If you continue this way, you'll end up bitter like Daddy and Noe.

I took a deep breath and let the anger inside me fade. I was fine—everything was fine. I had my life under control.

This too shall pass, Elika, this too shall pass.

"I'm sorry about your father," he added. "Sam mentioned that you're carrying the…ah…burden of your sister's care."

I cocked an eyebrow. "She's mysister.She's not a burden."

He sighed. "I'm sorry. I misspoke. I just meant that you're taking care of her needs."

"Like I said, she's mysister."

"I want to help."

Of all the things I thought he'd say, this was not it. "How?" I asked incredulously.

"I'd like to help pay for her care. You know?—"

I stood up, furious. "How dare you?"

"Elika, I only want to help," he used a tone meant to calm down a crazy person.

"I don't need your money."

He sighed elaborately. "Look, Felicity mentioned how you'd asked your Uncle for financial support and?—"

"Never," I snapped. "I haveneverasked Uncle Sam or any of the Thatchers for anything.Ever."

He looked surprised at first and then confused. "I know it must be expensive?—"

"Get out." I pointed to my door.

"Elika, please, be reasonable." His condescension was the lastfuckingstraw.

"Youhaoleson of a bitch," I threw at him. "You think it's all about money? Do you think I'm some whore? Is that why you left money the last time? A thousand dollars? Was that what two weeks between my legs was worth?"

The memory of the humiliation burned through me—the note, the money left with it. But what stung even more was that I’d had to use the money. I didn’t have the luxury of throwing it back in his face. Not that I could’ve, even if I’d wanted to—he was alreadygone.

"No," he looked completely distressed. "No, baby, I knew you worked hard, and I just wanted to help."

"Really?" My eyes filled with angry tears. "You left a note saying:I enjoyed our time together," I said that last part mockingly. "What? You thought you were Richard Gere, and we were inPretty Woman?"

"Elika, you misunderstand." He rose and came to me. I took a step back, which stopped him. He held both his hands up to let me know he wouldn't touch me. "I cared about you and?—"

"Cared about me? The hotel maid?" I couldn't keep the sadness and shame out of my voice. "I heard you talk to Dante Giordano. What did you say?" I pretend to have to think to remember. I didn't. His words were embossed on my brain. "Oh, let's see. She's a hotel maid, Dante. She's good company, but she's not relationship material. I don't think we're intellectually on par." I enjoyed seeing the color drain from his face. "And let's not forget you saying how I was a great fuck, but still a dumb hotel maid."

"God, Elika." He was breathing hard. "I…how?"

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