Page 93 of Take My Name
“A little?” I bite out. “He was gettin’ his driver’s license when you were exitin’ the womb.”
She rolls her eyes, crossing her arms as if it’s not the first time she’s heard comments about their age gap. Honestly, it only bothers me because it’shim.
A person I idolized because of how much I enjoyed his books and now every one I’ve read feels like a stab to my chest. Every word a lie.
And fuck yeah, I’m being petty, but I no longer care.
“Well, it’s a good thing we didn’t meet until I was twenty-six.”
“You’re not worried that you’ll only be forty-four when he’s sixty? Does he have to take Viagra to fuck you?”
“Warren!” She slides out of the bed, then pushes me out of her way, but I barely move.
“That’s an honest question. Men tend to lose their ability to get it up naturally as they age.”
“So what? Women go through menopause and sometimes lose their sex drives. It’s not supposed to be a deal breaker.”
“But you’d usually go through it together being from the same decade.”
“Well, sometimes people fall in love with older or younger people. Why is this any of your business?”
My jaw tenses and reality slaps me in the face. I’m being a jealous dick.
“You’re right. It’s not.”
Oh except, you’re my wife. And the thought of another mantouching her makes me feral. Perhaps it was better when Hayes was a faceless person I had no connection to.
A little too late for that.
I grab my wallet and phone off my dresser but then pause at the thoughts taking over.
“How do you know you’re not his midlife crisis? You met three years ago? He would’ve been in his early forties when a lot of men have affairs or buy expensive cars.”
She stomps until she’s in front of me, tilting her head to meet my hard gaze, hands plastered on her hips. “Are you that insecure you’re gonna nitpick everythin’ about him to justify how I could possibly be with a man like him when I was with a man like you first?”
“Maybe, and yeah, I don’t get it.”
She pokes me in the chest, glaring with fury. “You don’t have to get it! It’s not your life, it’s mine.”
“Your borin’ and miserable life?” I blurt, no longer able to stop the words coming out of my mouth. “It’s why you work yourself to death. It’s why these past few nights have made you come alive for the first time in years. Why you could let loose—you knew you were safe with me.”
“I already told you I work a lot because I love my job.” She huffs, throwing her arms up and pacing. “So which is it now? I work too much because I’m bored or because he’s not sexually satisfyin’ me?”
Both?
“You don’t need to work as much as you do. It’s not like you need the money! You have a trust fund, for fuck’s sake. Your parents paid for your apartment and everythin’ else you needed, which means you work yourself to death because you’re missin’ somethin’ in your life. You work to fill the voidinstead of admittin’ work is all you have to live for. Do you even have friends outside of the industry?”
Her nostrils flare, face beaming red as narrowed eyes glare at me.
“You know that’s not fair. I just started my own agency last year, so of course it takes a lot of time to get it up and runnin’. I focus on it so much because it’s my passion. Not that you’d know anythin’ about that.”
Ouch. Except my passion was her and building this house for us.
“Would you be honest with yourself for once? There’s passion and then there’s unhealthy obsession to avoid reality. If you were truly happy in all aspects of your life, your job wouldn’t come first. You can love it and still have some sense of work-life balance. It doesn’t have to take over your whole world.”
“Oh, and what…you’re livin’ life to its fullest? Out here in your secluded cabin with chickens for neighbors! Do you know what it took to find you in the first place? One person I spoke to in town thought you had moved away to another state because she hadn’t seen your face in three years. Another for sure thought you had died. Even pointed me in the direction of a cemetery. The man livin’ in our old trailer wasn’t quite sure where you lived, but he knew it was on the property somewhere. If it wasn’t for drivin’ up and down these back mountain roads and seein’ your old truck parked by a tree, I would’ve never found you. And why do you have that ole thing anyway? Does it even work?”
My gut flips. I wondered how she found me, although I figured she checked there first. There are a couple ranch hands who live in the trailer during the summer. They only work at the resort during our busy season, so they’re not locals.
