“You’re kidding, right?” she asks. “Is this some kind of joke?”
“No. We’re serious. All we need is two more members to make it official.”
“I can’t do this again, Nash! I can’t…I won’t worry myself sick about you getting killed because of a stupid MC! You were lucky you weren’t at the bar when it burnt down or I would be a widow right now!”
“This time will be different,” I assure her. “Malcolm will run things, and we’ll be more careful.”
“No,” she says with a shake of her head. “It won’t be any different! Just more of the same dangerous shit! Tell Malcolm and Lowell that you don’t want to be a part of it.”
Her sudden anger and outrage are not uncharacteristic of my gorgeous wife. But for the past few days, she’s barely spoken a word to me, and she sure as hell hasn’t let me touch her, telling me she doesn’t feel like it. The sudden yet continuously growing chasm that’s come between us apparently has us both on edge.
That’s why I take a calming breath before responding. “Ellie, you know I can’t abandon them now, not after everything that’s happened…”
“I gave up everything for you, my home, my friends and my family, my trust fund, and you won’t do this for me?” she asks.
“I didn’t ask you to give up anything!” I remind her. “That was your decision and your price to pay for being with me because nobody thought I was good enough for you. And you knew who I was when we met. I’m not going to change for anyone. Ever.”
“Not even me?”
“No,” I say even though the refusal burns my throat. “I love you, Ellie. You know I do. But demanding I walk away from the club…you’re asking too much of me. I need the MC.”
“I’m asking too much of you? God, what about what I need, Nash?”
“What do you need?” I question her.
“I need more...”
“More? What the hell is more? More money you mean?”
“More money for once would be a nice start.”
“What does that mean?” I stare at my wife of only two years, the woman I love more than anything in the world, and at the moment I don’t even recognize her. Lately, we argue about every little thing, and now she’s giving me hell about the MC and talking about needing more money?
“We could move back home to Charlotte. Maybe…maybe my parents would see how much I care about you, and Daddy could help you get a good job with his firm.”
“Are you out of your fucking mind?” The words come out louder and more brutal than I intended.
“I swear it’s like you enjoy being poor!” she exclaims. “Look around at our tiny ass apartment! We can barely pay for the things we need, like groceries and the rent each month. Who chooses to live like this?”
Money has always been a sore spot for me and my ego. I know the kind of rich family Ellie came from and what she gave up when she agreed to marry me. I gave her more than a year to come to her senses and walk away before I asked her to marry me because I hated that I couldn’t give her everything she needs and everything she deserves.
“Have you ever considered getting a job to help me out instead of putting all this shit on me?” I ask her.
“You want me to drop out of school and get a job?” she whispers quietly, her face paling as if I just asked her to become a prostitute.
“Yeah, you could get a job,” I agree through gritted teeth, hating the idea of not being able to make ends meet on my own but desperate for a temporary break from the burden on my shoulders. “For once, it would be nice if I wasn’t the only one having to constantly bust my ass to try and put food on the table and keep a roof over our heads!”
Ellie’s jaw drops. When she recovers, she asks, “Why didn’t you say something before now?”
“Because I know how much you want to finish your degree. I get it, Ellie. But for people like me, there are more important things than that fucking sheet of paper that takes four years and a shit ton of money to get.”
Now her face is turning red in anger, before she fires back. “We’ve always had different priorities, I know that. I just didn’t think you would be happy being broke forever. Is this how you would prefer to live rather than sucking up your pride and talking to my father so we could do better? Don’t you want us to be able to afford to have a family someday?”
Bracing my hands on my hips, I tell her the truth. I’ve never lied to her before, and I never will. “No, I don’t really see myself leaving this town or ever being a father.”
Judging by the shocked look on her beautiful face, I think a slap upside the head would’ve been less hurtful than the honest words I just spewed. Without responding, she hurries over to our bedroom and slams the door. I hear her push the lock for good measure to keep me out.
“Fuck!” I scream to the ceiling as I tug on two handfuls of my hair.
This is not how I wanted the night to go. I thought she would be happy for me, for the three of us who survived the annihilation of the Ace of Spades MC to start a new club for the best friends and brothers we lost. How did that shit turn into a conversation about being poor and it not being good enough for her anymore? That I’m not good enough for her?
I’m so pissed off and angry at myself for disappointing her
