Page 72 of What's the time, Mr. Wolfe
“Ruby, I own the fucking company. If I say you can have some leave, then you can.”
“That’s not the point, they’ll hate me because you’re showing favouritism.”
“I show everyone favouritism, I’m a walking fucking charity where that company is concerned. Everyone gets what they deserve. If they don’t deserve it, they don’t get it.”
I sighed. “I knew this day was coming. I’m not sure I’m ready for it, though.”
“Well, baby, it’s happened. I’ll take care of everything until you’re ready to take over, okay?”
I nodded. I had never been dependent of anyonebefore, but I wanted him to take care of me, to take over for a little while.
“I think I might lay down for a bit, is that okay?”
Crying had exhausted me.
“You don’t need to ask. Since we’re pretend married, you can do as you please, and treat this house as your own,” he said, giving me a gentle smile. I knew he was trying to cheer me up, and he did, a little.
I placed my hand on his cheek. “Plenty of women lucked out where you’re concerned, didn’t they?”
“I don’t know what you mean?” he said, helping me slide off the stool.
“You’re not the big bad wolf, you’re a kind hearted and loveable Labrador in disguise.”
He raised his eyebrows. “Can I be a mastiff? Please let me be anything other than a soppy Lab.”
I chuckled and reached up to kiss his lips.
“Loveable, huh?” he whispered.
“Loveable.”
I walked upstairs and fully dressed, climbed under the duvet.
The curtains were still drawn from the evening, and I lay in semi-darkness, thinking. My grandma had been so feisty in her day, a leader in women’s rights in Spain. She’d fought Franco’s rule and the level of fascism she hated. I know my father had called her revolutionary. That thought took me to my father. I had no way ofcontacting him, assuming he was still alive, to tell him. But then, did he deserve to know anything since he’d abandoned us both?
Thoughts whirled through my head, memories of my time with Grandma. I chuckled at the blasted blanket I’d now be able to wash. She’d knitted that blanket when she was a teen, although I couldn’t be entirely sure. It was so old, it might not survive a wash. I let a few tears fall as I recalled my life with her, and I wished her well in her next.
I started to think about the future. Maybe I’d downsize to a flat. With my brain whirling, I began to mentally list the things I knew I needed to do. I’d need to call the benefits office to let them know she’d died, call Tim so he didn’t send anyone to cover Monica. There was a ton of things to do, and I was lying in bed hiding away from it all. I pulled the duvet up over my head. I’d deal with it all tomorrow, any other day other than now.
Some time later I felt the bed dip and Sebastian pulled back the duvet. “You’ll suffocate under there,” he said. He had made me a coffee and he placed it on the cabinet.
I shuffled up and picked up the mug. “Thank you,” I said and sipped.
He ran his hand over my head, trying to tame my wayward curls. I imagined they were standing on end.
“I need a haircut. And I’ll need to get a dress for Grandma’s funeral.”
“We can shop tomorrow, if you want.”
I shook my head. “I can shop. You can’t keep buying me stuff.”
“I can and I will.”
I didn’t have the energy to argue with him, and there wasn’t much point. He’d more than likely get this own way.
“You will come with me, won’t you?” I asked.
“Are you kidding? Of course I will!”
