Read Online Mercy's Destiny: Montgomery's Vampires Trilogy (Book #3) (Montgomery's Vampires Series) by Sloan Archer - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Sloan Archer
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room table, mocking me. He doesn’t have his cell, buzz-buzz. You’re a fool, buzz-buzz. He won’t ever be picking up for you again, buzz-buzz.
I hung up the phone, wondering how many more instances like this I was going to have to suffer before it finally sunk in that it was O-V-E-R. I reached across the bed to spoon Robert before I remembered that he was now sleeping with somebody else. I went to the fridge to fetch a bottle of blood before I realized I had no vampire lover around to pour it for. I went to pick out my favorite sweater of Robert’s so he could wear it but then I saw that his clothes were no longer in the closet.
And here’s where I started to feel even lower as a human being.
After a few fleeting moments of righteous indignation over Robert’s attempt to buy me off, I came to the conclusion that I wasn’t going to give back the money. Nope. I absolutely was not.
I had thought about giving it back, and had imagined the pained look on Robert’s face as he came home to his empty house to discover that I had left a check for him on the dining room table—the same dining room table we’d made love on multiple occasions—for exactly one million fuck-you-and-your-sad-attempt-to-buy-me-off-dollars. In my imagination doing just that seemed great. Stupendous. And had I been a few years younger, or even a little less versed on precisely how scary it was to be so poor that I had no idea where my next meal was coming from, I may have done just that.
But . . .
From a practical standpoint, giving the money back would be a bit like cutting off my nose to spite my face. To Robert, a million dollars was equivalent to a normal person having to budget an impulse-purchase on, say, a new pair of shoes. A million dollars was not going to make or break him one way or the other, and my petty gesture to hurt him by leaving behind a check would be just that: a petty gesture.
A million dollars to me , however, would change my entire life. This was something my pride was reluctant to accept. I’d been raised to stand on my own two feet and to rebuff handouts, so the idea of accepting a bail-out—nay, a payoff —from a man who’d dumped me was beyond incomprehensible.
Still, a million dollars.
I could pay off all my debt. I could go back to school for a master’s degree, which I’d been wanting to do, and not have to work while taking classes. I wouldn’t, of course, be able to maintain the same plush lifestyle I’d grown accustomed to while living at Robert’s. But I sure wouldn’t have to stress at the end of each month about how I was going to pay rent, fill my car with gas, or put food in my belly, which is precisely what I would have to do if I didn’t keep the money. I wasn’t an extravagant person by any means—not the way Robert was extravagant—but my old car would soon start needing parts and repairs that would outweigh its overall value. I could use that money to buy a conservative new car, something Japanese and sturdy. The car may not prompt drive-thru baristas to take photos, but at least it wouldn’t break down and leave me stranded.
In the end, I decided that pride was a luxury only a person wealthier than I could afford. When you’re poor, with little or no alternative options, sometimes you have to suck it up and do things that make you cringe.
If Grams were alive, I wondered what she’d have to say about my decision.
6
I’d been so keyed up the whole morning that I almost couldn’t fall asleep once I got home.
There had been a few moments when I’d toyed with the idea of getting out of bed and scrapping the nap altogether, but I wanted to be mentally sharp for my blood extraction. With everything that had happened since Robert’s recent departure, letting my guard down around anyone affiliated with the VGO, even if it was only some lackey they’d sent, didn’t seem like the wisest idea. I also wanted to look rested, in case the lackey reported back to
I hung up the phone, wondering how many more instances like this I was going to have to suffer before it finally sunk in that it was O-V-E-R. I reached across the bed to spoon Robert before I remembered that he was now sleeping with somebody else. I went to the fridge to fetch a bottle of blood before I realized I had no vampire lover around to pour it for. I went to pick out my favorite sweater of Robert’s so he could wear it but then I saw that his clothes were no longer in the closet.
And here’s where I started to feel even lower as a human being.
After a few fleeting moments of righteous indignation over Robert’s attempt to buy me off, I came to the conclusion that I wasn’t going to give back the money. Nope. I absolutely was not.
I had thought about giving it back, and had imagined the pained look on Robert’s face as he came home to his empty house to discover that I had left a check for him on the dining room table—the same dining room table we’d made love on multiple occasions—for exactly one million fuck-you-and-your-sad-attempt-to-buy-me-off-dollars. In my imagination doing just that seemed great. Stupendous. And had I been a few years younger, or even a little less versed on precisely how scary it was to be so poor that I had no idea where my next meal was coming from, I may have done just that.
But . . .
From a practical standpoint, giving the money back would be a bit like cutting off my nose to spite my face. To Robert, a million dollars was equivalent to a normal person having to budget an impulse-purchase on, say, a new pair of shoes. A million dollars was not going to make or break him one way or the other, and my petty gesture to hurt him by leaving behind a check would be just that: a petty gesture.
A million dollars to me , however, would change my entire life. This was something my pride was reluctant to accept. I’d been raised to stand on my own two feet and to rebuff handouts, so the idea of accepting a bail-out—nay, a payoff —from a man who’d dumped me was beyond incomprehensible.
Still, a million dollars.
I could pay off all my debt. I could go back to school for a master’s degree, which I’d been wanting to do, and not have to work while taking classes. I wouldn’t, of course, be able to maintain the same plush lifestyle I’d grown accustomed to while living at Robert’s. But I sure wouldn’t have to stress at the end of each month about how I was going to pay rent, fill my car with gas, or put food in my belly, which is precisely what I would have to do if I didn’t keep the money. I wasn’t an extravagant person by any means—not the way Robert was extravagant—but my old car would soon start needing parts and repairs that would outweigh its overall value. I could use that money to buy a conservative new car, something Japanese and sturdy. The car may not prompt drive-thru baristas to take photos, but at least it wouldn’t break down and leave me stranded.
In the end, I decided that pride was a luxury only a person wealthier than I could afford. When you’re poor, with little or no alternative options, sometimes you have to suck it up and do things that make you cringe.
If Grams were alive, I wondered what she’d have to say about my decision.
6
I’d been so keyed up the whole morning that I almost couldn’t fall asleep once I got home.
There had been a few moments when I’d toyed with the idea of getting out of bed and scrapping the nap altogether, but I wanted to be mentally sharp for my blood extraction. With everything that had happened since Robert’s recent departure, letting my guard down around anyone affiliated with the VGO, even if it was only some lackey they’d sent, didn’t seem like the wisest idea. I also wanted to look rested, in case the lackey reported back to
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