Page 23 of Marrying the Gardener
Because what does he meanpour him a drink? He’s working. He wants to be inebriated while he’sworking? Managing to keep my smile intact, I say, “Of course, darling. Any preferences?”
“The finest you have. We are celebrating after all, aren’t we?” He rests his hip against the counter and tucks his hands in his pockets. Before I can reply, he scowls at Charlotte, who has not yet moved a muscle. “I told you to do something.”
She squeaks. “S-sorry! Right away, sir.” After she bolts, I lose my smile and set a bottle of wine down too hard on the counter.
While I get a corkscrew from the drawer, Kaleb tenses. “I can handle my alcohol. And I’ll barely be drinking. It’s just a prop. To make me look more insufferable.”
Insufferable, huh? Fancy that he needs help.
I pour his stupid glass of wine and turn, crossing my arms as I dangle the glass stem between my fingers. In the action, my robe slips off my shoulder, but I ignore it. “Charlotte comes from a bad background littered with upsetting foster parents. Takeextracare with her.” Stiff, I close my eyes and bite out, “Please. I know I’m already asking for a lot…but I don’t want to hurt the people I care about any more than is absolutely necessary to maintain this.”
Approaching, Kaleb corrects my robe and tightens the sash for me before lifting the glass from my fingers. “I understand. Once this is over, I’ll petition everyone’s forgiveness and apologize for my crude behavior.”
My brow knits. “You’re not the one who will need their forgiveness after this is over, Kaleb.”
“Then we can apologize together.” He leans in, toward my ear, and whispers, “Like husband and wife.”
This time, I do flinch.
But his smile is beyond kind when he moves away, checks his surroundings, and pours half his wine in the sink. “Since you’re concerned, let them assume I’ve already drunk some.”
I force a tight breath into my chest. “That was expensive, you know.”
“Do you really care?”
Not one lousy bit. My father was always harder to manage whenever he was drunk, and he was rarely ever sober on the weekends or in the evenings. If I didn’t need the stuff to entertain guests, I wouldn’t have it in my home. So I shake my head. “No.”
“Are you ready?”
I feel ill. But I regain myin lovesmile and pretend I’m with Crisis at our favorite tea place instead of here.
“It’s gonna be okay,” he assures me.
“It won’t be.” I go to him and slot myself into place at his side. “But…thank you.”
He takes the lead back to the parlor I already showed him earlier, and there we find my meager team of four: Ava and Charlotte, my housekeepers; Esmee, my security detail; and Adelhilde, my chef. They all live here, together, in the mother-in-law suite on the property. And, apart from Ava, I handpicked them myself.
The unrest creasing brows and twisting faces pinches mychest as Kaleb and I stop at the head of the room.
“This is it?” Kaleb asks, scanning them.
Charlotte cowers while the others turn their unrest into frowns.
I dig my fingers into his back before I remember this isexactlywhat I’m asking for. He’s not even beingthatrude, all things considered. I’ve seen so, so much worse.
Just.
Never here.
In my home.
In front of my girls, whom I promised to protect when I hired them.
I maintain all the composure I know how to in front of far worse people and say, “It’s a modest home. They manage it well.”
“Hm.” Setting aside clear disapproval, Kaleb fixes me with a proud smirk. “I suppose it’ll do…for now. Go on.”
To avoid Ava’s glare, I focus on Charlotte. “Everyone, I’d like you to meet my husband, Kaleb Ch—”
