Zack’s eyes flash and I see just a hint of pleasure from my words in there. But it’s quashed just as quickly and cool aloofness filters in. He takes a step back and my hand falls away from his chest. He shrugs casually. “Yeah, sure. Glad I could do something for you on such short notice.”
And, just like that, I realize the shift I thought had happened in our relationship had not happened at all. What really happened was a very brief and temporary moment where Zack let his walls down and invited me in closer.
Unfortunately, the minute he got up from the couch, those walls slammed right back into place and we were back to where we started.
—
I take a break from unpacking and grab my purse off the kitchen table. Reaching in and blindly searching, I finally pull out an old bottle of Aleve that I had in there. I shake out two and swallow them down with a sip of bottled water. I give a stretch to my back, which is on fire from all of the lifting I’ve been doing. But I just finished the second-to-last box, and with only one more to go, I’m happy that the kitchen will be fully set up and ready to cook in for breakfast tomorrow.
Of course, then I’ll have the rest of the house to unpack. The good thing is that Delaney is flying in tomorrow mid-morning and I know that she and I will be able to knock it out in a few days. I know I sure as hell can’t count on Zack. I gave him the first task this afternoon once the movers had finished unloading, and that was to hook up the electronics. I found him and Ben half an hour later playing Wii. He just shot me a sheepish grin and said, “What? I need to keep the kid entertained.”
It did not make me happy that Zack was sitting on his ass while I was doing all this heavy work. This really made me unhappy as I realized that I’m doing all of this unpacking because I truly am the employee and Zack is the employer, and if he wants to sit around on his ass and eat bonbons and order me around…then that’s well within his rights.
Joke’s on him, though. I’m going to be too tired and sore to let him fuck me tonight, so he can go to bed without, I huff to myself.
Then I snicker. I’m such a devious woman.
The front door opens and I hear Ben’s feet running through the living room. Zack and Ben had gone out to pick us up a pizza for dinner, so I reach into the cupboard I had just packed full of dinnerware and pull three plates out.
Ben comes flying into the kitchen, at the same time I hear Zack call out to me from in the living room. Pointing to the bathroom, I tell Ben, “Go get washed up.”
I can tell he’s going to be turning four soon because this used to be a major fight with him sometimes…just getting him to wash his hands. But I can see the kid maturing day by day. Or maybe he’s getting used to me as an authority figure.
Walking into the living room, I turn the corner and see Zack staring at the built-in bookshelves that flank both sides of the fireplace. “What’s up, pup?”
His voice is low but thunderous as he turns to face me. “Where the fuck are all the pictures?”
“What?” I ask, completely confused as my eyes flick from him to the empty bookshelves.
“The pictures,” he repeats as he jabs a thumb in the direction of the shelves. “All the pictures of Gina.”
“Oh,” I say hesitantly, and my eyes dart to the boxes stacked against the wall. “They’re still in the boxes. I haven’t had a chance to get to them yet.”
“Jesus Christ,” he growls as he stalks toward the boxes. “I asked for just one thing for you to do when we moved, and that was to make sure this shit gets unpacked and put out first so that Ben can see the photos of his mother.”
“I’m sorry,” I blurt out as I hurry over to him. As he reaches out for the first box, I intercept him and grab it. “I got focused on getting the kitchen unpacked so I could cook tomorrow. I’ll get them unpacked right now.”
“Just forget it,” he hisses at me as he turns to set the box on the couch, ripping away the tape.
Tears prick at the backs of my eyes and I swallow hard past the lump that forms in my throat. “Zack…I’m sorry. I completely forgot.”
“Of course you did,” he sneers sarcastically as he pulls the flaps of the box open.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” I ask him quietly, my chest starting to ache.
“It means that maybe there’s a reason you didn’t unpack Gina’s photos. Maybe you don’t want them out.”
“What?” I gasp in indignation, now the tears welling up for real. “Why would you ever say such a thing?”
He turns to me with one of the frames in his hand. Some of the anger seems to seep out of his eyes and he lets out a grunt of frustration. “Just forget it. Go get Ben fed while I handle this.”
My anger bubbles and then starts to boil into rage. How dare he accuse me of that? And how dare he treat me with such disrespect, especially since I’ve been busting my ass to try to help get him and Ben settled in their new home?
“Go get Ben fed yourself,” I snap at him. “I’m not your lapdog and I sure as hell ain’t your whipping post.”
Zack’s jaw drops in astonishment, but I don’t wait around to see what he does. I spin away from him before the tears can fall and run into the kitchen. Grabbing my purse, I cut through the dining room and head for the front door.
Zack calls out to me. “Kate…don’t go.”
Fuck you, Zack.
I slam out of the house, down the front porch steps, and hurry across the yard to the sidewalk. I cross my arms over my stomach, warding off the evening chill. The days have started to warm up nicely since we’re almost into April, but the nights are still a little cold. One tear drops down my cheek and I hurriedly wipe it away.
And, just like that, I realize the shift I thought had happened in our relationship had not happened at all. What really happened was a very brief and temporary moment where Zack let his walls down and invited me in closer.
Unfortunately, the minute he got up from the couch, those walls slammed right back into place and we were back to where we started.
—
I take a break from unpacking and grab my purse off the kitchen table. Reaching in and blindly searching, I finally pull out an old bottle of Aleve that I had in there. I shake out two and swallow them down with a sip of bottled water. I give a stretch to my back, which is on fire from all of the lifting I’ve been doing. But I just finished the second-to-last box, and with only one more to go, I’m happy that the kitchen will be fully set up and ready to cook in for breakfast tomorrow.
Of course, then I’ll have the rest of the house to unpack. The good thing is that Delaney is flying in tomorrow mid-morning and I know that she and I will be able to knock it out in a few days. I know I sure as hell can’t count on Zack. I gave him the first task this afternoon once the movers had finished unloading, and that was to hook up the electronics. I found him and Ben half an hour later playing Wii. He just shot me a sheepish grin and said, “What? I need to keep the kid entertained.”
It did not make me happy that Zack was sitting on his ass while I was doing all this heavy work. This really made me unhappy as I realized that I’m doing all of this unpacking because I truly am the employee and Zack is the employer, and if he wants to sit around on his ass and eat bonbons and order me around…then that’s well within his rights.
Joke’s on him, though. I’m going to be too tired and sore to let him fuck me tonight, so he can go to bed without, I huff to myself.
Then I snicker. I’m such a devious woman.
The front door opens and I hear Ben’s feet running through the living room. Zack and Ben had gone out to pick us up a pizza for dinner, so I reach into the cupboard I had just packed full of dinnerware and pull three plates out.
Ben comes flying into the kitchen, at the same time I hear Zack call out to me from in the living room. Pointing to the bathroom, I tell Ben, “Go get washed up.”
I can tell he’s going to be turning four soon because this used to be a major fight with him sometimes…just getting him to wash his hands. But I can see the kid maturing day by day. Or maybe he’s getting used to me as an authority figure.
Walking into the living room, I turn the corner and see Zack staring at the built-in bookshelves that flank both sides of the fireplace. “What’s up, pup?”
His voice is low but thunderous as he turns to face me. “Where the fuck are all the pictures?”
“What?” I ask, completely confused as my eyes flick from him to the empty bookshelves.
“The pictures,” he repeats as he jabs a thumb in the direction of the shelves. “All the pictures of Gina.”
“Oh,” I say hesitantly, and my eyes dart to the boxes stacked against the wall. “They’re still in the boxes. I haven’t had a chance to get to them yet.”
“Jesus Christ,” he growls as he stalks toward the boxes. “I asked for just one thing for you to do when we moved, and that was to make sure this shit gets unpacked and put out first so that Ben can see the photos of his mother.”
“I’m sorry,” I blurt out as I hurry over to him. As he reaches out for the first box, I intercept him and grab it. “I got focused on getting the kitchen unpacked so I could cook tomorrow. I’ll get them unpacked right now.”
“Just forget it,” he hisses at me as he turns to set the box on the couch, ripping away the tape.
Tears prick at the backs of my eyes and I swallow hard past the lump that forms in my throat. “Zack…I’m sorry. I completely forgot.”
“Of course you did,” he sneers sarcastically as he pulls the flaps of the box open.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” I ask him quietly, my chest starting to ache.
“It means that maybe there’s a reason you didn’t unpack Gina’s photos. Maybe you don’t want them out.”
“What?” I gasp in indignation, now the tears welling up for real. “Why would you ever say such a thing?”
He turns to me with one of the frames in his hand. Some of the anger seems to seep out of his eyes and he lets out a grunt of frustration. “Just forget it. Go get Ben fed while I handle this.”
My anger bubbles and then starts to boil into rage. How dare he accuse me of that? And how dare he treat me with such disrespect, especially since I’ve been busting my ass to try to help get him and Ben settled in their new home?
“Go get Ben fed yourself,” I snap at him. “I’m not your lapdog and I sure as hell ain’t your whipping post.”
Zack’s jaw drops in astonishment, but I don’t wait around to see what he does. I spin away from him before the tears can fall and run into the kitchen. Grabbing my purse, I cut through the dining room and head for the front door.
Zack calls out to me. “Kate…don’t go.”
Fuck you, Zack.
I slam out of the house, down the front porch steps, and hurry across the yard to the sidewalk. I cross my arms over my stomach, warding off the evening chill. The days have started to warm up nicely since we’re almost into April, but the nights are still a little cold. One tear drops down my cheek and I hurriedly wipe it away.
