Page 31 of The Bad Husband

Clear. And also more mature.

“So, I went out with a friend,” I restart my story to move away from my bold trespassing. Why did he let me get so close to him? “We wanted to celebrate my new job, and also…”

I ponder while he listens in silence, concentrated on the road in front of us, or so it seems.

“She wanted to introduce me to a friend of hers.”

He shifts his eyes to me, an eyebrow lifted, a stern expression on his face.

“You know you don’t need to work at that donut shop.”

That’s not what I was talking about.

My eyebrows slide up.

“How do you know about my job?”

He shifts his attention back to the road.

“I just know.”

“What makes the job you offered me better than this one?”

“For one, I can keep an eye on you at all times if you’re working for me, so it’s safer.”

Keeping an eye on me at all times? That makes me weak in my knees. No, thank you.

He scares the shit out of me most of the time.

“Safer than a donut shop? If I’m not safe in a donut shop, I don’t know where I’d be.”

“And yet, here you are. Stupid ideas can come to life everywhere.”

He makes a slow left turn, and we keep moving, farther and farther away from the busiest part of town.

“And then?” I go on, trying to figure out where we’re headed.

I didn’t realize his club was so far away from his house. It always felt like his business was down the road, a few miles away from his place.

“And then you’d make more money, and you’d like it more.”

“I’m not doing it for the money.”

“I know.” He gives me a sarcastic smile. “Yet in the end, we’re all doing it for the money.”

I don’t know what he means by that.

I truly have no idea.

“Are we still going to the club?”

“Don’t worry,” he says, stepping on the gas.

His car lurching forward doesn’t make me worry less about what the rest of my evening might look like.

“I need to pick up something first,” he says.

“Uh-huh.”