Page 67 of Perfect
“You’re not eventryingto lie, sweetie,” he teases.
I cross my arms and change the subject. “What bullshit do you have planned for today?”
“That depends. What doyouwant to do today?” he asks, flashing me a crooked grin. I huff angrily and get out of bed, trying hard to avoid him in the small space of my bedroom.
“I have plans today.”
He frowns. “We haven’t made plans yet.”
“Ihave plans,alone.”
“No, you don’t. There’s nothing in your planner, or your phone, or your work calendar.” Fucking stalker.
“I had plans to spend the day by myself.”
“That’snice,” he says, and I can tell from his passive-aggressive tone that it’s not going to happen. I storm past him into the bathroom and shut the door, pouring myself a bath. I groan when I see the little tray laid across the bathtub, full of bath salts and body oil and scrubs.
This is ridiculous.
Recently, Theo has been pulling the gifts out from under my bed and trying to put them away. No matter how many times I put them back under the bed, they reappear. I look down at the body oil again, feeling a mix of emotions. Theo has bought me everything Jo Malone makes in my favorite scent, which is obscenely over the top. As much as I hate to admit it, Theo’s really good at giving gifts.
I don’t trust gifts.
Danny gave me alotof gifts, usually as apologies for losing his temper or hurting me, but the gifts Danny gave me were thingsheliked. Tight, short dresses. Big, showy diamond jewelry. Bags with large designer labels visible. Cute, fruity perfumes. Frilly, silky lingerie in pale colors. He liked me to look sexy and show off our money -mymoney, myparents’money, money he spent freely because it wasourmoney in his mind -and he expected that I would love everything, fawn over him for it, show gratitude, act like it fixed everything.
Gifts meant something bad had happened.
Theo’s bought me things I’ve shown a genuine interest in, at least, but he only found out what I like fromstalking me. It feels too familiar, like an apology for the stalking.
I stare at the body oil in my hand, conflicted. I want it, but I can’t accept anything from him. If I do, it’s like I’m accepting the apology and buying into his delusion. I set the body oil back on the tray and steel myself for the day.
Things between us have been tense, and they’re not getting any easier.
When I walk into the bedroom, the bed is made, and there’s a cup of hot coffee on my dresser. I ignore it, turning to my closet and getting dressed quickly before walking into the living room. Theo’s dressed in jeans and a hunter green button-down, looking at something on his phone, sipping coffee.
I hate myself for wanting to crawl into his lap.
“Is thereanyway to get you to leave me alone?”
He gives me an exasperated look. “We can do whatever you want, but we need to spend more time together. We’re still adjusting to each other. Last weekend was nice, right?” He flashes me a small, hopeful smile, and I cross my arms and look down at my feet.
Last weekend was horrible. I let my guard down for one fucking second, and he doubled down on his delusion.
“Fine. I want to go to Portland, but I want it to go differently than last time.”
“Whatever you want, sweetheart,” he says, his voice affectionate. It pisses me off for some reason, and I look up at him, my temper settling into defiance.
“I want to choose the restaurants.”
“Of course.”
“Idon’twant you to buy me gifts. I don’t like them.”
He frowns. “You don’t like the gifts I got you, or you don’t like receiving gifts?”
“I don’t like getting gifts.”
He nods, looking disappointed. “Can I ask why?”
