Page 117 of Family Bonds: Coy & Angel

“Little shit, Coy. You won’t let me give you money toward bills.”

He’d been blowing her off every time she brought this topic up. He supposed it was time to deal with it.

“Don’t get pissed,” he said. “But we aren’t equals there and won’t ever be.”

She let out a big sigh. “I know that. But you don’t even let me contribute to anything. I don’t want that. I just thought things would be different.”

Which was another reason he was being accommodating. He knew she had all these ideas in her head about them and since there was some guilt that he had pushed the marriage for his own old-fashioned beliefs, he was giving in when he shouldn’t have.

Or letting her think things that might not be completely accurate just by passive-aggressively avoiding them.

“I don’t know what to tell you, Angel. Even if you take my family wealth out of it, I still make a lot more than you by owning the practice.”

“I understand that,” she said. “But that doesn’t mean I can’t help you pay your mortgage or give you money toward it.” He started to laugh. “You don’t have a mortgage, do you? Jesus, this house has to be worth a few million.”

“I have a mortgage,” he said grinning. “Only because it’s a tax write-off and I can use all that I can get. But it’s not as much as you think.”

“You don’t have to tell me.”

“I should explain some things. You need to know.”

“I know enough through Spencer,” she said.

“Do you want to cut the tomatoes?” he asked. “Can you do that without cutting yourself?”

“Very funny,” she said, but she did accept the knife from him while he put the bacon in the oven, then stirred the soup. BLT’s and minestrone soup that his mother brought over was a nice quick meal in his eyes.

“Sorry,” he said. “You’ve been on the moody side and I’m trying to make you laugh.”

“It’s because I’m frustrated over this situation. I know I had these dreams in my head and you think I’m going to break if I don’t get them. It’s not true. I’m an adult. It’s better if we deal with them head-on rather than you worrying I’m going to get upset or me worrying you’re going to get frustrated with me because I can’t fold your scrubs exactly the way you want them. Maybe show me how you want them rather than saying you’ll do it.”

She had a point. “I can do that,” he said. “As for the household stuff. I bought this house years ago. I got it for a good deal because it needed work. I paid cash for it out of my trust fund.”

She snorted and rolled her eyes. “I know you have one, just funny to hear you say it.”

“Sorry, nothing I can do about it,” he said. “It’s there, but it’s not as if I’ve blown through it like some people might. I lived here for a year while Bode and I finalized plans for the remodel and additions. It took about a year to complete, and I lived with him while it was being done. I took a loan out for most of that for the interest write-offs. It’s still not as high as it could have been because my brother did the work. And the value of the home is much more than what I put into it.”

“I understand that,” she said. “But you don’t even let me pay for stupid things like utilities.”

“Angel, I’m not going to have you give me money each month to cover shit like that. They are automatically taken out of my account. I told you you can do anything you want in the house.”

“But you want to know what it is,” she argued. “It’s like getting permission. Give me a break. It makes me feel as if it’s not my home.”

He ran his hand through his hair. “It’s not for that reason,” he said. “I don’t want you buying furniture or other big items. If you want something new, I’ll purchase it. You’ve balked over me giving you a credit card.”

“I don’t need you to pay for those things.”

“Get used to it,” he said. “I’m not changing that. You knew marrying me what my wealth was like. If you want to see my portfolio to prove it to you, we can do that after dinner.”

“No,” she said. “I don’t need to see it. It will make me feel even more inferior.”

He threw his hands up. “I can’t change any of this, Angel. And don’t try to pretend you didn’t know what you were marrying, because you did.”

“I know,” she said, cutting the tomato more forcefully, squishing it in the process. He went to move over and take the knife away from her and she turned and pointed it at him. “Don’t you dare.”

He held his hands up, grinned, and took a few steps back. “I’m sorry, Angel. Maybe I’m hovering some.”

“Some?” she asked.

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