Page 9 of Property of The Grump

“What’s up?That’s all you’ve got to say?”

My stomach clenches, and I know I’m in for a special kind of night if I don’t tread lightly. He wasn’t always like this. If he had been, I would have never have married him. “I’m sorry. You ready for the debate?”

He ignores my question and loops the tie. “Why were you looking at the church website? You religious now? You know,” he tilts his head to the side as he pops his collar to tuck the tie into place, “that might be good for my campaign.”

“Church?”

“Yes. People love that religious shit. They eat it up.”

“I think people respect genuine intention over everything else. We shouldn’t pretend to be religious.” I regret my comment the second I finish the sentence. No good ever comes from standing up for something with Zane. He’s a contrarian at heart, and he’ll fight tooth and nail to prove just about anything and anyone wrong. I suppose that’s what made him want to be a lawyer, and what makes him so good at debate, though I still don’t understand how he’s leading as the people’s vote for mayor of the Springs. He’s young, he’s not nearly as experienced as his counterpart, and he comes from money. People usually hate all of those things when it comes to politics, but for some reason, no one can see through the charming act he’s so good at portraying. I swear, he has the whole damn city thinking he’s some kind of saint.

If they only knew.

He looks in the mirror to straighten the black tie he’s just squared. “We aren’t pretending. You’re interested in church. Why else would you be looking at the website? Open it back up.”

“What?”

“Open that website back up. There was a banner at the top. What’s it about?”

I’m not sure why my stomach is churning like I’m nervous he’ll find out I was there today by viewing the website. Hell, I don’t even know why I’m nervous. Who cares that I was there? I should be allowed to take a drive and stop at a church. I should be allowed to have conversations with other human beings. Even if I don’t feel like it, I’m my own person. I don’t belong to Zane Harlow.

He sighs loudly and grabs the laptop off my desk and flips it open, the website for the church still on display, Father Anderson looking straight at us.

Another pang of guilt hits.

God, clearly, I’ve been brainwashed. I remind myself again that I’ve done nothing wrong as I draw in a deep breath and let it out slowly.

“See,” he points toward a yellow banner at the top of the screen, “they’re looking for bakers. You can make cupcakes and whatnot. You should go do this.”

“What?” I narrow my gaze and stare up at him. “I thought you didn’t like it when I left the house.”

“I don’t like it when you leave the house looking like a bum. You’re the wife of the future mayor. You need to start acting like it, and this church thing is the perfect choice. People look past what you look like if you’re kind.”

Oh.

I’d love to say this comment comes as a surprise, but it doesn’t. I’d also love to break down and start a fight, but what’s the point? What’s the point in any of this anymore? Zane doesn’trespond to breakdowns. He doesn’t respond to feelings or genuine cries for affection. Zane is all about Zane, and anything you do to get in his way makes you an enemy.

Zane Harlow destroys his enemies.

“How’d you find out about this place?” He’s in the large walk-in closet in the back of the room as he talks, though everything he’s saying sounds like a blur of words.

“I used to drive past it, and there was always something unique about it that I liked.” I pinch my lips together as I talk, knowing for sure there’s a punishment coming.

“It’s a sign,” he says, voice much lighter than I expected. “You should go back and offer to bake those cupcakes you make. The ones with the gobs of fat you love so much. I’d bet simple people like the ones up in Whiskey Falls would love that shit.”

Yes, that was Zane’s idea of a compliment.

When we met in high school, I never would’ve imagined he’d be like this. Back then, he used to tell me how beautiful I was, how much he loved the little creatures I sewed for him, how much he looked forward to the cookies I used to make and brought him every Monday morning. Heck, I can even remember a time when Zane Harlow was my friend.

My good friend.

A guy I could’ve told anything to. A guy who genuinely cared about people and wanted the best for the world and the state of Colorado. He had all these ideas, and, given his family’s political history, I always knew he’d run for office, but I never thought we’d have the distance we have today. I never thought he’d talk down to me the way he does, and I know I never thought I’d be this girl.

The girl who accepted this behavior from anyone. The girl who thought so little of herself that she put up with all this, but nothing is that cut and dry. Nothing is that simple. Zane’s familyhas an image to protect, and they’ll pay whatever cost necessary to maintain it.

I stopped fighting that a while ago.

“Are you even listening to me?” He grips my arm with more strength than necessary and yanks me up from the wingback chair by the window where I’m lost in thought. “Tell me you’re going back to this church to do all the little suzie fucking homemaker shit that has no use anywhere else.”