“You leave your television on for your dog? Do you know how much that racks up the bill, Della?”
I knew immediately it was a stupid thing to say because her face drained of the surprise that I’d bestowed on her by being here, and anger took its place. “What is with people being assholes to me lately? I’m aware of what it costs, Theo. I pay the bills. All of them. Remember?”
Sighing, I tried backtracking because I knew the topic was sensitive to her. “I didn’t mean to—”
“Of course, you didn’t! You never mean to do anything that would upset me, right? Not that you’d ever admit. But, rest assured, I know what money I’m forking over every month because I work my ass off to make sure I can keep a roof over my head, the lights on, and my stomach fed without any help. But thanks for the reminder.”
I waited until she was done because I knew trying to reason with her would be pointless otherwise. Though, the pinched expression on her face and the way the crease formed between her brows told me I was in the doghouse regardless. Metaphorically speaking.
“What are you doing here?” she asked, tone softer now that she took a moment to breathe.
“I’m proud of you.”
Her lips parted.
Standing, I walked around the couch with my hands stuffed in my front pockets. “I know the past few years haven’t been easy for you, but you’ve always held your head up high. You’ve made it through. Look at this place.” I did just that, studying the bright colors, wide open space, and smiled at the modern style that screamed Della. A few walls were aged white brick, the windows were large and feeding the room with natural light, and everything she furnished inside matched her personality to a ‘T’. “It’s yours. Not your father’s, not your mother’s, or anyone else’s. You made yourself a home and proved to everybody that you didn’t need your family’s money.”
If she were raised any other way, she would have been screwed. When the scandal broke and her father went away, they seized all assets, including properties. She was allowed two bags worth of belongings out of everything she’d once called her own, the rest was taken away. That didn’t stop her from pushing forward. Even though there was room at my house, she refused to accept any help. It took her an additional three months to save up the money she needed to secure this place through commissioned art, and a few odds and ends jobs around campus.
“So, I know that you know how much it costs. I didn’t mean anything bad by it. In fact, it shouldn’t surprise me that you’d leave the television on just so your dog doesn’t get lonely.”
“A lot of dogs have separation anxiety and need to feel secure when their owners are gone,” was her defense.
My head cocked. “And how do you know he has separation anxiety?”
Her bottom lip drew into her mouth as she looked at Ramsay. “He destroyed your armchair and favorite pair of shoes. Plus, he peed on everything even though he hadn’t done that in a while since we trained him to go out. I read up on it and vets say that it’s probably anxiety. Since I started leaving Animal Planet on, he hasn’t done anything bad.”
I did love the shoes that I found chewed up without an ounce of hope they could be fixed. I threw them out as soon as I saw them and simply told Della rather than showing her the mess he’d made. It was bad enough she wanted to buy me a new chair, but the shoes would have made her feel worse had she seen the state they were in. They were one of Tom Ford’s most expensive designs.
“I’m here,” I continued, “because I needed to make sure you were okay. Plus, I knew you were probably missing your demon dog.”
“You’re not mad I left him at your house?”
“I told you that you could.” Hell, I liked the little bastard. He got on my nerves when he wanted attention, but I’d even found myself missing him when I realized she’d taken him back after leaving the other day.
“But we’re fighting,” she stated quietly.
That was where she was wrong. I stepped up to her, moving a piece of curled blonde hair behind her ear. “This isn’t fighting. We were both upset, and things got out of hand.” She flinched, and I knew she was thinking worst case scenario. “Get out of that head of yours. I didn’t mean because of what happened. I meant after.”
“When you basically said it was a mistake again?”
“I didn’t—”
“You can’t keep kissing me and pretending like it was an accident. People don’t just fall onto other people’s mouths. That was what pissed me off the most and you didn’t even seem to care that it did.”
“Because I didn’t chase after you?” The scoff came out of me before I could stop it, fueling the fire that didn’t need any help growing.
“It’s not about the chase!” she yelled, her fists clenching at her sides. She shook her head and walked away from me, peeling off her mesh sweater and draping it on the back of the kitchen chair she passed. Her white tank top was practically see-through thanks to the cheap material and the darker bra visible underneath.
“What was it about then?”
She gave me her back as she washed her hands in the sink before toweling them off and pouring herself a glass of water. “Listen, I want to work on my project tonight. Ramsay can stay here if you don’t want to take him back with you. I’ll figure it out.”
“No.”
She froze halfway to her bedroom before slowly turning on her heels. “What?”
“I let you walk away because I knew it wouldn’t do either of us good if I did chase after you. We were angry. Tensions were high. Things would have been said that couldn’t be taken back. So, yes. I watched you walk out.”
To that, she had no reply.
Walking over, I stopped just in front of her and watched the way her body leaned into me. It was a natural response that I lived for. Always had. When she was little, it made me feel like she knew I’d protect her. But now? Now it was different. That need to protect her was tenfold even though I’d learned a long time ago she could look out for herself.
“This time we’re talking it out because we are both adults whether I like to admit it or not. And I don’t, you’re right. I hate that you’re not little Della anymore because that means the world can get you and I can’t do a fucking thing about it. That doesn’t mean I’m not going to try like hell even if it pisses you off.”
“By making me angry and calling me a child? How does that help anybody?”
It helps me. “Are you going to work on your project?”
“You’re changing the topic?”
“Technically, it all ties in. Thought maybe you found some inspiration after the conversation we had before you stormed out.”
“Our argument,” she corrected.
All I did was shrug.
“You’re impossible, you know that?”
I didn’t deny it.
“I’m going to try getting the project started. Sometimes all it takes is throwing some color on the canvas for the mood to set.” Tilting my head, I looked down at her and watched her stare back. “What?”
“Get changed.”
She blinked.