The night finally ends. Standing proudly with hands on hips, I admire the impeccably made bed. Grey's mother meets my eyes and smiles softly.
"This bed looks professionally made. It feels like I'm in a five-star hotel," she remarks.
I look down at the bed I made, not a single crease, leave outâjust perfect.
"Enjoy your night. There's water if you need it, and feel free to ask for anything else," I say as she applies hand moisturizer.
"Does my son make you happy?" she asks as I turn to leave. Her question halts me momentarily.
I contemplate sharing about Grey's flirtations with Talia, thinking maybe she could talk sense into him. But I quickly dismiss the ridiculous thought.
"He does," I force a smile. Her brow, once furrowed, relaxes into a contented arch.
"He should, especially after everything," she says, a reminder I'd rather not dwell on.
"Have a nice rest," I bid her before leaving the guest room.
Our house is big, with five bedroomsâGrey's dream for a big family. I simply wanted to be with him and agreed to this investment.
Passing Layla's room, I hear her arguing with her boyfriend on the phone. I decide not to interrupt and head to our bedroom.
As soon as I enter, Grey locks the door and lifts me up bridal style, gently placing me on the bed.
"I've been impatiently waiting for this night to have you all to myself," he says, his eyes filled with admiration.
I am confused.
"What have I done to deserve all this?" I ask, hoping he always looks at me this way.
"Let's take it one step at a time," he suggests, climbing on top of me. His lips leave trails of kisses from my neck down to my shoulders and the exposed skin above my breast.
"Fuck," he softly moans, and I feel his desire growing above my stomach. I'm glad I still have this effect on him.
He gently bites my nipple through the thin material of my camisole, igniting my own desire. I wrap my legs around his waist, pulling him closer, and we engage in a hungry, passionate kiss. But abruptly, he stops.
"Have you been intentionally withholding sex from me? Are you trying to punish me?" he asks, his tone disbelieving.
Rage build up. He still doesn't think i have a reason to be angry.
"Withholding and not wanting something are different," I explain, trying to push him off me.
"What are you doing?" He pins me down with a wicked smile. I feel small under his control.
"Sleep!" I try to push him away, but he's too strong.
"We're not done yet," he says, a teasing smile on his face.
"We are," I insist.
"Not for me," he replies, his ego refusing to relent.
I lie on the bed with my eyes shut, hoping he understands my silent message. It's childish, but somehow, we communicate this way.
"Seriously?" he asks in disappointment when he realizes I'm not going to give in.
I remain silent, feeling frustrated.
Grey, with his big ego, finds begging beneath him. When he realizes he won't get what he wants, he moves to his side of the bed with an annoyed sigh.
I lay in bed, eyes shut, when Grey speaks again.
"The allowance you're gettingâwe should invest it in a money market fund. It'll help us reach our goals sooner," he suggests.
It was always our plan, we work, pool our resources together, invest and then after we start a family.
"Okay, I will transfer the money tomorrow," I agree, trying not to think about our impending marriage, quitting my job, and starting a familyâthe future I once eagerly anticipated but now dread.
I wake up from bed and grab my hoodie, walking out of our bedroom. I'm surprised to find Layla seated, covered in a knitted quilt.
Her eyes widen as I sit next to her.
"A drink?" she offers, handing me a can of beer. "Or are we hiding from our mother-in-love?" she adds with a smirk.
"Haha," I chuckle sarcastically.
"You couldn't sleep? She asks.
"We had a fight," I confide in her.
She pours beer into a glass and hands me. Her phone plays music softly in the background.
"Relationships aren't supposed to be this complex," she muses.
"They aren't. People are," I reply with a sigh.
She turns to me, surprise evident in her eyes.
"I don't think Fred and I will survive," she confesses.
"Same here," I admit aloud for the first time.
"What are you going to do?" she asks quietly.
"Leaving isn't an option. He's Grey, my Grey. With him, I felt like I could have things I never allowed myself to have," I explain.
"I understand," she nods sympathetically.
In the silence that follows, I pick up my phone. My contact list is filled with people who won't answerâsome probably think I'm dead. Feeling the need to apologize for hanging up on Oliver Cooper, I dial his number.
Shit. He answers, "Hello."
I remain silent.
"Jessie, is that you?" he asks.
He remembers my name and number
I hesitate, trying to compose myself.
"Can't sleep?" he asks gently.
"Mmh," I reply, aware of Layla watching me curiously.
"Talk to me. I'm listening," He encourages. Like before, my thoughts freeze.
I hang up again. Now he'll probably change his number.
"You called him again?" Layla asks, stunned.
I nod.
"Are you trying to get fired, fined, or arrested for harassment... without me?" she jokes, trying to lighten the mood.
"What?" I ask, confused by her concern followed by a joke.
"Next time, let me in on the crime," she laughs, and we both chuckle.
"Do you think he'll call back?" she asks.
I shake my head.
"I doubt it," I reply.
And he never does call back that night.