Chapter 10: Hate Me Properly

I waited until Tuesday night to ask him, because I wanted to be sure I would say it right.

I did not say it right.

Harrison was at the kitchen island with a stack of folders, and I put the invitation on top of them.

"Is there a vote in November?" I asked.

"Yes."

"On your chair."

"Yes. It's routine. Cynthia has been telling people it isn't."

"Camille thinks I was the answer to it."

He closed the folder.

"Did you believe her?"

"I believed enough to ask you," I said. "Did you marry me for the chair?"

"I told you why in the diner."

"You told me what you wanted me to hear in a diner."

His face did not change, and that was worse.

"I was not in my right mind that night either," I said. "I'm trying to be fair. But I want to know what I'm worth to you in a column."

"A column."

"You're a man who runs a company. Everything is a column. I'm the line that says Wife, Convenient."

He put both hands flat on the island.

"Say that again," he said quietly.

"I'm a convenient piece."

"Lena."

"You took what was lying around. That's all. I just want you to say so out loud."

He came around the island.

He did not touch me, because the rule was still in his mouth.

He stood so close that I could feel the heat of him through my sweater.

"I never gave a damn about that chair," he said.

His voice was rough and very low.

"I'd give it to Dylan tomorrow if it kept him on the other side of a door from you.

I'd give him the whole building. Cynthia can have the board, and the title, and the parking space with my name on it."

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