The twin crevices above his nose deepened. “That doesn’t change the reality of what happened. You know how I feel about your job. Now I have to worry about you being in danger and overworked.”
“I’m not overworked—and Eve’s the one in danger, not me.”
“What if the bomb had been left at the station?”
“It wasn’t—and the building has excellent security. Besides, Eve told Doug the bomb was probably a fake. Did they say anything about that on the news?” If she deflected his focus, it was possible they could avoid another row about her job.
“Yeah. It was a hoax.”
“See? Everything’s fine. I’m fine.” She rose. “Let me get dinner started. You must be hungry.”
He grabbed her hand as she began to move away. “Meg.”
She braced and angled back. “Let’s not argue about this, Steve. Please. I like my job. This was a fluke. I’m not in any danger.”
“I don’t want anything to happen to you. I couldn’t go through that again.”
She gently wiggled her fingers to loosen his taut grip and sank back onto the arm of the chair.
Cut him some slack, Meg. Losing a young wife to cancer had to be devastating. If he’s a bit overprotective, live with it. You might feel the same if the situation was reversed.
“You’re not going to lose me, I promise.” She brushed back the lock of hair that liked to fall forward, onto his brow. “I’m safe at work, and what I do there doesn’t take away from our relationship. You’re gone all day too. And sitting around here moping after the miscarriage wasn’t healthy for me. We agreed a job could help me get back on my feet emotionally.”
Well . . . that wasn’t quite true.
She’d pushed hard for the job, and after tons of cajoling he’d given in—with clear reservations.
But framing it as a mutual decision could help keep this discussion from escalating to an argument.
“You seem to be doing fine now. The job was never intended to be permanent. We also agreed on that.”
“Yes . . . but I’ve only been there six months. After how Eve went to bat for me, I don’t want to walk out and leave everyone in the lurch—or cause an issue for her.”
His jaw hardened. “I don’t care about Eve Reilly. I care about you.”
“I know, but she did pull strings to get me hired. If she and I hadn’t been high school classmates, I doubt I would have gotten the job. There were better-qualified candidates.”
“I wish one of them had been hired. You don’t have to work. My salary can support both of us.”
“It was never about the money.”
His nostrils flared. “I don’t know why you can’t be satisfied running the house and being my wife.”
“I am.” She bent again and touched her mouth to his stiff lips. “But being here alone all day while you were at work was hard. The job was a godsend after I lost the baby.”
“I can think of other ways to describe it.” Anger scored his words—and twisted the knot in her stomach.
“Oh, come on, Steve.” She forced a lightness she didn’t feel into her tone. “I’m here tonight—and I’m all yours for the whole weekend.”
“I thought you had a church thing tomorrow.”
Yes, she did.
But if giving up the annual ladies’ luncheon would placate him, it was a small price to pay for a peaceful weekend.
“I’ll cancel that. We’ll have the whole day together.”
The tight lines in his face relaxed a hair. “I like that idea. We can sleep in and go to Bob Evans for a late breakfast.”
She did her best to mask her dismay.
He knew she didn’t like heavy, calorie-laden breakfasts. Knew she was working hard to lose weight after her late-term miscarriage.
And Bob Evans wasn’t the place to follow a diet.
Worse yet, he’d insist she join him in the high-carb, high-fat splurge he could afford, given the physical nature of his construction job.
“What’s wrong?” His frown was back.
She realigned her features. Balking at his idea would only create more tension. “Nothing. I’ll get dinner going.”
“What are we having?”
“Pork chops and mashed potatoes.”
“One of my favorites.” He smiled at her.
Finally.
“I know. It won’t take long.” She stood.
Once more he caught her hand, the tender expression she loved softening his features. “You’re a good wife, Meg.”
Her throat tightened. “Thanks.”
“You’re not sorry we got married after such a quick courtship, are you?”
“No.” Her response was immediate. It had to be, or Steve would mope for days.
And it was true. Really, it was.
After battling weight and self-esteem issues her whole life, how could she not have fallen in love with a smooth-talking, charming, attractive man like Steve who’d made her feel like a femme fatale for once in her life?
If—in hindsight—she sometimes wished they’d taken the relationship slower, learned more about each other before committing for life . . . if she was sad that her parents had judged her hasty nuptials as a foolish mistake and written her marriage off as another one of her dim-witted blunders . . . well, everyone harbored a regret or two.
Besides, fretting over history was pointless. The deed was done.
He released her hand, unmuted the TV, and turned his attention back to the screen. “That’s what I like to hear.”
Meg rose, kissed his forehead again, and returned to the kitchen to prepare dinner.
Rubbing her temple, where the first hint of a headache was beginning to throb, she crossed to the fridge.
It would be nice once in a while if Steve kept her company while she cooked—or lent a hand with cleanup.
But after living with a gourmet chef who’d banished him from the kitchen until the food was ready, he would never think to offer assistance. He was used to how his first wife had prepared meals.
And since she wasn’t anywhere close to Le Cordon Bleu caliber—as Steve often reminded her—the least she could do was let him wind down from the day in front of the TV.
Marriage was all about accommodation, after all.
He doesn’t accommodate you very much, though.
She clenched the handle of the fridge and yanked the door open.
That wasn’t true. Letting her take the job at the station had been a big concession for a man who’d told her up-front he wanted a stay-at-home wife and mother—terms to which she’d agreed.
Yeah . . . but he only relented after you almost died from the miscarriage.
Meg pulled out the pork chops and slapped the package on the counter.
Enough.
Steve was a fine man.
So what if he was a bit overprotective and controlling?
Grief—and fear—could do that to a person.
After his experience with his first wife, he’d naturally be terrified about losing her too. That’s why he always wanted her close by, kept tabs on her activities and friendships.
Stifling the dissenting voice in her head, she pulled two potatoes from the cabinet and began peeling them.
Her husband’s behavior was perfectly reasonable, given his history. She should be flattered he hovered and wanted to keep her safe, not resent his attention.