This guy could work for the CIA. He’d be a perfect spy. He even has a tunnel that takes him from the studio to the garage, and he’s having one built toward the house.
The best part about coming to his lair is that we can spend the night playing poker, pool, or throwing darts without being under the microscope of the town.
It sounds bad, but the townies don’t trust us yet. We do our best to blend and be a part of their community, but they don’t miss a chance to publish our pictures and either wonder about our lives or just trash us because we’re Aldridges and our ancestors always treated them as if they were inferior.
“What’s happening with Martina?” Pierce asks while we’re playing pool. “I’ve barely seen her in the past couple of days.”
I glance at him, then at the table looking at all the angles.
“It’s not chess. It’s fucking pool,” Vance grunts. “Why did you invite them, Beac?”
“They discovered the place. I can’t just make up shit anymore,” he answers with annoyance, then gives Pierce, Hayes, and me a warning glare. “I adore your women, but if they start hanging out down here I’m moving back to Seattle. I need some alone time. You people are overwhelming which is why I have this place. Not for you to spend your Friday nights hanging out.”
“He has a temper,” I mock him then look at Pierce and shrug. “Apparently she’s friends with Sophia. She’s been going with her to Aldry’s all week.”
“That’s…” Pierce narrows his gaze, giving me a suspicious look. “Have you asked Sophia what’s happening?”
“No, I haven’t seen her either,” I state. “She’s out of her house by the time I arrive at the office and doesn’t come back until late at night. Julian is the one who keeps me updated.”
“The bodyguard who pretends to be your driver,” Vance states.
“You know?”
He nods. “Of course, I do. The guy looks like special forces. He told me you hired him to protect Sophia almost three years ago.” Vance crosses his arms. “Quite interesting if you ask me. Why bring him back when I could provide her with someone as capable to be her security detail? Unless you want her to keep thinking he’s just a spare driver.”
Pierce takes out his wallet, takes a few hundred dollar bills out of it, and places them on the table. “Five hundred says that she’s going to rip him a new one when she figures out that Julian’s been babying her since she became his assistant.”
“Will she leave him?” Beacon asks.
“Like a whole production where she storms out of the office and he has to beg her for forgiveness?” Hayes asks, pulling out his wallet. “No, I think she’s going to lash out at him, but she’s too mature to be dramatic. She might even find it endearing.”
“So what are we betting on?” Beacon asks. “I’m confused.”
“She’s going to leave him,” Pierce says, tapping the money.
“Technically, we’re not together,” I remind him.
“Nah, she’s going to give him shit but love him more,” Hayes insists, setting a pile of money beside Pierce’s.
Beacon looks at them and shakes his head. “I have money. There’s no point in betting that. I say she leaves his ass and quits Merkel and Aldry’s. If I win, you get to do my chores for a month.”
“Now he’s talking,” Mills grins. “I’m with him and Pierce.”
“You know, Sophia would come in handy right now. She’s the one who knows how to set up boards and shit,” Vance states. “I’m with Hayes though.”
“What about you?” Hayes asks me.
“I’ll just be praying that those three assholes are wrong.”
“But if we’re right, it’s a month free of chores,” Beacon states happily.
I’m not concerned about what's going to happen when she finds out or if she ever finds out. Maybe how I did things wasn’t the best way, but she needed it. My only worry is if she’s ever going to come back to me.
Going to a marriage counselor has become eye-opening. As Sophia suggested when she found me at my office drunk, I hired a therapist to help me with my underlying issues too. I need a way to handle all those childhood traumas that are coming to the surface because my life is changing radically.
Who knew that every time my mother and grandfather called me a mistake I was being abused? Who knew emotional abuse existed? According to Google, a lot of adults would rather not mention they suffered from it. Mental illnesses are such a stigma. I should look into creating a program that helps people who, like me, can’t seem to understand why they are so angry at the world.
“Henry, tell me one nice thing that Martina did for you this week?”
“She put the trash out when it was my turn,” I state. “It’s a small detail, but it counts.”
Surprisingly, I’ve discovered that sending chocolate covered strawberries is more meaningful than buying a diamond tennis bracelet. Every small detail matters, like when someone brings you coffee in the morning, along with a clean shirt because you spent the entire night at the office. Like bringing you food from your favorite restaurant, because you haven’t taken a break since you arrived at work at five in the morning. Or just teaching you how to love because you’re emotionally impaired.
That’s Sophia. She’s been doing that for me for years. How can I not be in love with her?
“Martina, how are things between you two?”
“Much better,” she says, and she’s right.
It’s become easy to speak to her. She’s no longer expecting us to serve her. Then again, she’s gone most of the day. She leaves in the morning, and she’s not back until late at night. Leyla and Blaire don't have as many issues as they used to have with her, but I’m guessing it’s because Martina is getting along with Sophia. I’m unsure how to feel about the latter.
“You still have six more weeks of counseling before you can make a decision about your future. When we started, you said that no matter what, you’d be marrying Henry. Are you still feeling that way?”
“I can’t answer you that question. I still have six more weeks, and I hope that I won’t be stranded because my father couldn’t bother to think of me as more than a commodity,” she states.
“How about you Henry?” the counselor asks.
Though I can understand why Martina is upset, the energy she’s radiating screams I want blood, and I won’t leave without a fight. Maybe I should have Vance find us a few people to watch her until she leaves. Perhaps I’m overreacting.
“Henry?” the therapist repeats.
“I think I want to keep my therapy sessions with my other counselor. There’s just so much going through my head, and how can anyone share their life with someone who can’t handle their own emotions. Personally, emotions make me angry. That’s why I yell at everyone. This isn’t the person I want to be when I make a commitment to the woman I love or to my children.”
“That’s a great step. Let’s meet again next week.”