Beg for It(33)

When he didn’t say anything else, didn’t even sip the coffee he’d asked her to serve him, Corinne tilted her head. “Is there something else?”

“No,” Reese answered in a tone that sounded more like yes.

She didn’t wait for him to add anything. She left his office and went into her own, firmly shutting and locking the door so he couldn’t burst in on her. Not that he would, she reminded herself. He would simply message her and expect her to drop everything and run in to service him.

She would do it too, Corinne thought with a curl of her lip. In that moment she couldn’t tell whom she hated more. Reese for putting her through this rigamarole, or herself for letting him.





Chapter Eighteen


Before


Thanksgiving at his parents’ house is always a good time. Food, music, laughter. Games of cards spread out on the dining room table with plates of pie and mugs of coffee. Reese’s family is enormous and they all gather in the old farmhouse every year.

He’s never brought a girl home before, and everyone notices but nobody gives him a hard time. Well, not too much. They all like Corinne, of course they do. There’s nothing about her that isn’t easy to like.

Corinne’s camped out on the sofa with one of Reese’s cousins, looking at the photo album from her recent wedding. Reese has brought Corinne a mug of coffee and a piece of pie.

“No,” she says, offhandedly, “not pumpkin.”

It’s not a chastisement or anything. Not even a command. He’s so used to her gentle corrections that it doesn’t even seem strange to him that he takes the plate of pumpkin pie back to the kitchen and returns with a slice of apple that she takes from him, her face tipped up so he can kiss her before she goes back to looking at the pictures.

It feels natural to take a place on the floor at her feet, especially since with all the guests in the overfull living room, seating is at a premium. And Reese is content to lean with his back against her legs, her fingers every so often brushing the back of his neck. When she hands him her empty mug, he takes it without question to the kitchen for a refill.

His father has been watching him, apparently. At the counter as Reese fills Corinne’s mug, his father takes a seat at the kitchen table. He gestures to Reese’s mother for her to cut him a piece of pie, even though the tins are directly in front of him, and she has to come around the table with a plate to do it.

“Sit,” his father says. His mother flees the kitchen.

“I have to take—”

“She’ll wait,” his father says. “Sit down.”

Reese sits, wary. He and Dad haven’t been getting along for a long time, but he’d thought that at Thanksgiving there’d be peace, at least for the night. “Yeah?”

“How’s it going? Living with her.”

“Good. It’s all good.” Reese turns the mug in his hands.

“You find a job yet?” Dad digs into the pie with his fork, chewing steadily without looking away from Reese’s face.

“Not yet. I’m looking into some bank loans for school, though. And I have a lead on some part-time work.”

“You’re living off her? She supports you?”

Reese frowns. “Well…yeah, I mean…I’m going to get work, Dad.”

“But until then, you’re the housewife?” His father’s disgust is clear in his tone.

Reese goes cold inside. Then hot. His throat and cheeks burn, but he keeps his voice steady when he answers, “I take care of things around the house, yeah. Corinne goes to school and works.”

“*.” Pie flecks his father’s lips and clusters in the corners of his mouth.

Reese looks away. “Don’t.”

“She has you trotting to and fro, bringing her coffee and pie? What else does she have you doing? Folding her panties?”

“Sometimes wearing them,” Reese replies, voice cold and hard and sounding somehow distant, even to himself.

He means to be shocking. To stun and hurt his father. It appears to have worked, because Dad’s mouth works, but nothing comes out.

“I thought you’d just be happy I’m not gay.” Reese wants to get up from the table. He wants to take Corinne’s coffee to her and sit there while his family laughs and talks; he wants to play a killer game of Spoons and then have another piece of pie. He wants to go home with the woman he loves and sleep beside her and wake up in the morning, and if she asks him to do a load of laundry, he’ll do it. He’ll do whatever she asks. “I don’t expect you to understand. But, Dad, it’s not your business.”

“It’s disgusting.”

Reese flinches, though the words are no surprise. “I love her. I want to make her happy. That’s all.”

“I love your mother, and I want to make her happy, but you don’t see me prancing around in her underwear!”

“Reese?” Corinne is paused in the doorway, looking concerned. “Hey, is everything okay?”

“You ready to go?” Reese stands, leaving the coffee on the table.

Corinne’s look of concern changes to surprise. “Sure. If you want to.”

“Yeah. I’m ready. Let’s go.” Without a look at his father, Reese ushers her out through the family horde, weathering the hugs, kisses, and goodbyes. In the driveway, he holds out his hand for her keys and slides into the driver’s seat, although it is Corinne’s car and she usually drives.