Page 75 of It Hurts Me

Bolton usually left once a week or every ten days. There was a limit to the number of contracts he would personally take on. The rest, he passed on to other guys in his crew. Sometimes his clients insisted it be him since he was the one who had started the Brotherhood and, therefore, was the best at it.

So when he didn’t leave after ten days, I found that strange.

He was always home, working in his study, and when I came home from work, he had dinner waiting for me.

I’d never seen him make dinner. Didn’t know he even knew how to use the oven.

But he was quiet and distant, not like he was angry with me, but like he had something else on his mind. He rarely talked about work, and I didn’t ask because those were details I preferred to avoid, but I suspected that was the reason for his change of mood, for the fact that he hadn’t gone to work in so long.

Theo didn’t text me either. Didn’t come by the gallery again. Even though it’d been the longest stretch of time we hadn’t spoken, he seemed unbothered by my silence. He was probably trying to respect my boundaries, but I always assumed the worst.

I approached the dining table and saw the feast Bolton had made, roasted chicken surrounded by slow-cooked rice and potatoes. It was coated in a white sauce, something that smelled like garlic and rosemary. “This looks good.” I took my usual seat and placed the napkin across my lap.

He opened a bottle of white wine and poured two glasses. “It’s amazing what the internet can teach you.” He sat across from me and draped his napkin across his lap, waiting for me to take the first serving.

I scooped the hot food onto my plate then watched him do the same, the house quiet with the exception of the music he’d put on the speaker under the window. Steam rose from my plate, smelling like a gourmet meal. “I didn’t know you had an interest in cooking.”

“You cook all the time. Thought I could help out.”

I didn’t mind cooking, but I didn’t love it either. The responsibility had fallen to me because Bolton didn’t want a chef or a housekeeper. Said he preferred to keep our home private rather than open to strangers. “That was sweet of you.” Our relationship had been silently turbulent because we both dodged conversation like the plague. But he had been trying to get into my good graces in other ways, by cooking dinner, by kissing me on the shoulder when I sat on the vanity, being overly generous in bed, as if he was trying to compensate for some kind of shortcoming.

It was mental whiplash. Angry at him one moment then soft when the good memories flooded back. Then I would think about Theo, and the guilt would rush in. We owed nothing to each other, but I somehow felt like I’d stabbed him in the back. Bolton was the one I was married to, but sometimes it was easy to forget. “You haven’t gone back to work. Is everything alright?”

He was just about to scoop a bite onto his fork, but he noticeably stilled at the question. His eyes remained down for several long seconds, seconds that felt like minutes because they were packed with so much tension. He eventually abandoned the fork altogether and set it on his plate.

I knew I’d asked the wrong thing.

He stared at his plate a moment longer before he straightened and met my gaze, his blue eyes suddenly angry. “You want me to leave?”

“I-I didn’t say that. I’ve just noticed things are different. You’re cooking at home, not going to work. It seems like something has changed. You said you would never quit the Brotherhood, so I’m not sure what’s caused this abrupt change.”

His eyes pierced mine, searching for a sign of a lie. “I want to end the arrangement I suggested, and I’m sorry I suggested it in the first place. If I could take it back, I would. You’re my wife, and I love you more than words can say. I want to have a family with you, to raise children and leave them behind when it’s our time to go.”

My fingers gripped the handle of the fork as I processed his declaration. After our last argument, neither one of us had acknowledged our problems because that’s how we’d always been. We just ignored things until they went away. But Bolton wasn’t going to ignore this.

He continued to stare at me expectantly, waiting for me to appreciate his words and agree to the new terms.

But a bottomless pit opened in my stomach, and I’d been knocked off-balance. Those were words I’d wanted to hear weeks ago. I’d hoped he would realize how wrong it was and come back to me. And I would have forgiven him. But then there were more women, and it seemed like it wasn’t a problem until he realized I was also taking full advantage of the arrangement.

“Astrid.” He seemed to know that my mind had drifted.

My eyes darted away, unable to look at him without feeling the pain and the overwhelming resentment.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I’ll say it as many times as you need to hear it?—”

“No.”

He stilled. “No, what?”

“No, that’s not what I want.”

His blue eyes shifted back and forth between mine, slow at first, but then with increased speed, like he could feel all the pieces of his life unravel.

“It’s too late, Bolton.” When I’d sat down to dinner tonight, I didn’t think this conversation would transpire. I didn’t think I would make this decision. It felt impulsive, but I knew it’d been creeping closer every day for the last two months. “I couldn’t sleep with anyone, not even when you came home with lipstick on your neck after your first trip. The idea of being with anyone else but you…made me sick. But then you said there had been multiple women, and that was when I ended up in someone’s bed. I hoped after the first woman, you would realize it was a big mistake and you would change your mind about the whole thing. But you didn’t. And I think the only reason you’re changing your mind now is because you know I have someone else—which is despicable.”

His blue eyes remained angry as he listened. “I never see the same woman twice. They’re just a means to an end. It’s a transaction, a comfort in whatever city I’m forced to be in to fulfill my contract. I feel nothing for them. But what you’re doing is completely different—because you’re in a relationship.”

“You never specified the terms?—”