“Thank you for the new chair. It’s wonderful.”
His glance slid over me, from my lap to my face. “What makes you think I gave you a new chair?”
“Well, this is your company, so I assumed…”
One of his brows rose. He had this talent of looking dubious with only the flick of his forehead muscles. He often cast this expression on those he did business with, but I’d been privy to it from time to time as well.
“I don’t know why you would assume I have anything to do with ordering chairs.”
Crimson suffused his cheeks, and I wondered just how pissed off he was that I’d implied he would actually do something nice for me…and the rest of the assistants on this floor.
I tapped the end of my pen on my notebook, really wanting to tap his forehead and tell him he could have just accepted the thanks without getting mad.
Then, sucking in a breath, I adjusted my dress and put my game face on. “Anyway, the chair is nice. If you happen to know who chose them, please give them my appreciation.”
“I’m sure I have more important things to do than that.” He nodded toward the schedule in front of him. “As you’re aware.”
“Of course. Thankfulness is overrated anyway.” Oops, the sarcasm had escaped.
Elliot steepled his hands beneath his chin, observing me through slit eyes. “Do you have a problem with my manners, Catherine?”
“I don’t, Elliot.” I tugged down on my dress harder than necessary. “Now, do you have anything I should know about today?”
The meeting went on as usual after that. Until the end, when I asked him if there was anything else.
Elliot peered at me for a long moment. “You can’t come to work in that dress again. It no longer fits you, and you wore it three days last week.”
My mouth fell open.
He wasn’t wrong. I was all too aware I’d squeezed myself into one of the last pieces of clothing that still stretched over my belly, aside from Liam’s old T-shirts.
Living inside this body completely alien to me was bad enough. I was off balance, barely sleeping, hungry enough at all hours to gnaw my own arm off, my emotions out of control—and now this? I thought I’d done well by wearing all black. If I needed to repeat outfits, it wouldn’t be so obvious.
But Elliot had noticed, and it hurt my feelings. I hated that he was capable of hurting my feelings. Lately, they were just as swollen as the rest of me.
“I—” I had to swallow three times before I could force any words out. “Okay,” I managed to rasp.
His head jerked at the weak sound of my acquiescence. “Catherine—”
I waved my hand in front of me. If we continued this, there was a high likelihood I’d start crying. And if I cried in Elliot’s office, I’d never be able to face him again.
“No, it’s fine. I hear you. I’ll go out after work and find suitable clothing.”
My tender feelings lodged in my throat and after that horribly awkward moment, I returned to my desk, sat my ass down in my brand-new chair, opened my drawer, and snatched my postscript envelope. Taking out today’s, I crossed out what I had written and scrawled below it.
P.S. You are exactly as intolerable as usual.
Maternity clothing was stupidly expensive, and I had next to no budget.
Fortunately, I was able to find a few things at a thrift store near my house. Black and gray, since those were my staples these days.
Hopefully, I’d be up to snuff for Elliot. If he said anything else about my clothes, I’d likely jab him with my pen. A blue one, just to make it hurt worse.
I really didn’t like how it had felt when he’d told me I couldn’t wear my dress anymore. I kept replaying the way he’d looked at me when he’d said it. Like he’d been embarrassed for me that I couldn’t fit my body into proper clothing.
It wasn’t like he paid me a whole hell of a lot. Until I passed the six-month mark, I was a contract employee—not officially hired—which meant my salary was a fraction of what it would be.
That was still two weeks away. I’d been saving every penny I could, but with my expenses mounting daily, it hadn’t been easy.
I walked into the home I hadn’t wanted and kicked myself for the thousandth time for allowing Liam to talk me into buying it.
At the time, we’d been riding a high from building houses for impoverished communities in Costa Rica, and a project of our own had sounded like the right move. Liam had made it sound like the right move.
The plan had been to buy the house with mostly cash—mine—take out a short-term loan—in my name—remodel it ourselves, and flip it for a big profit.
I got pregnant the night we got the keys.
And nothing had been going in the right direction since.
The empty walls echoed when I closed the front door. I wasn’t supposed to be here. This should have been a short way station before embarking on our next adventure.
I felt like Donald Rockford—in debt up to my eyeballs, staring down the barrel of a gun, bracing for it to go off.
Suddenly, standing in my foyer, a heavy bag of used clothing clutched tight in my hand, swollen ankles, and a baby coming at the very worst time, it was all too much.
I had never felt so alone in my life—and I’d grown up with a lifetime of loneliness. This, though…this was different. It was bone-deep, panic-inducing, soul-rending loneliness. My fight fled me, flowing from my heart and exiting from the tips of my shaking fingers.
There was no giving up, but I wished I could have.
Tears welled and spilled over, and I let them since there was no one here to see.
Shuffling to the couch, I fell on it with no grace, wincing when the springs dug into my backside. My tears came harder then. I couldn’t even flop on my fucking couch without being reminded just how miserable my current situation was.
Liam had to come back. That was all there was to it. He needed to be here to give me terrible massages and let me cry on his shoulder. He’d be slow about it, but at least he’d make some progress on the house and I could fire the contractor I really couldn’t afford.
I called him, not giving any thought to what time it was in Australia. It didn’t matter. I needed him.
“Hey, babe,” he answered. “How are you?”
“Liam,” I quivered.
“Kit? Are you crying?” He sounded somewhat alarmed, but more than that, he sounded foggy with sleep. Given it was the middle of the day in Sydney, he should have been wide awake. He always did love taking naps.
“I need you to come back. I can’t—”
“Aw, Kit,” he drawled softly. “What’s wrong, babe? Did you have a rough day at work?”
“It’s always rough, Liam.” I scrubbed hard at my face, angry at myself for falling apart. It wasn’t an option for me. I had to keep swimming. “I don’t know about the contractor you hired. If anything, the house looks worse, and the loan is due in a few months. We have to get this place sold. I just—”