Chapter 182

It’s late at night. Despite that Arthur and I somehow managed to master precisely three sleeping positions for maximum comfort, we can’t fall asleep.

You’d think we’d be more excited that our situation seems to be changing, and don’t get me wrong I can’t wait to sleep in a king-sized bed again, but in a way, we’ve fallen into a rhythm. Oddly, even the drudgery of life can become a comfort.

“How do you feel about becoming a famous artist?” Arthur asks, stroking my hair. I laugh because even still that idea seems completely ridiculous, even with the opportunity only one good sale away.

“Like a million bucks.” I tease. Arthur laughs.

“You’re better than a million bucks.”

“How do you feel that I’m becoming more famous than you.” I say, somewhat teasing and mostly curious. Arthur stops stroking my hair.

“Whoa whoa whoa Little Wolf. I’ve taught you everything you know, so you’re welcome.”

“Ah, yes. I thought that was you who taught me how to hold a paintbrush.” I tap on my chin like I’m thinking.

“You know what I mean. Besides, your fame is my fame. Right?” He asks like he already knows the answer.

“Right.” I agree, “We go paw-in-paw like that.” Arthur rolls onto his back, stretching his arm behind his head, disrupting our usual way of falling asleep.

“To be honest, Almara, you’ve actually inspired me.” He says. I snuggle up closer to him, partly so I don’t fall off the bed.

“How so?” I ask and look up into his eyes which seem to be glowing in the dark.

“Well, you’ve really made this thing out of yourself. I want to do that.” He says, and he keeps his eyes on the ceiling, but I can tell he’s looking at something beyond.

“You mean how you made Wolf Pack Company?” I ask, not understanding what he’s getting at.

“That was me and my dad, and it was great. But, I mean, you took your hobby and used that to make something. I want to create something from scratch with something that I love and do that.” He explains and I think I’m beginning to understand.

Arthur has always had money so his company, while starting from scratch, never required much work to lift off the ground. Now that we have nothing and are nothing, he wants to make something out of that. Something core to who he is, not just what his title is.

“I mean, even Bess had her flower shop. It wasn’t a huge success that had markets around the world, but she built it to be exactly what she wanted it to be.” Arthur continues.

“What do you think that might be?” I ask. Arthur’s quiet for a moment and I give him the silence to really reflect and search, two things we’ve both been doing a lot this past year.

“I like building things. Just like that tree house that me and your father built. That was a lot of fun.” He says with a child-like awe in his voice making my heart jump a little.

“Yeah, you did really good with that too.”

“Yeah,” Arthur agrees. “We did.”

Eventually, we managed to fall asleep. I only know that because I’m suddenly pulled from my sleep by a blaring ringing. It’s Sunday, both of our days off so I know it can’t be work- though I wouldn’t be surprised if Derek wants me to come in anyway.

Then I realize it’s not my phone that’s ringing, it’s Arthur’s. I sit halfway up and give Arthur a shake. “Your phone is ringing,” I tell him through a big yawn. The first thing I’m buying is a bigger bed.

Arthur mumbles something and lets the phone go to voicemail. I lay back down falling back into peaceful bliss. Then it goes off again.

This time Arthur sits up with aggravated force and snatches his phone off the nightstand. “Hello?” He asks, the sleepiness taking from the angry edge in his voice.

“What? Slow down.” Arthur says and throws the covers off of him. It might be early and we may have gone to bed super late, but I’m wide awake now.

“What’s going on?” I ask, though I know it’s pointless. I won’t know anything until Arthur is off the phone. All the commotion causes Grace to fuss. I scoot off the bed and go to wrap her into my arms. She’s getting so big and her hair has grown down to her shoulders.

“Good morning, my pretty girl.” I say to her and instantly she begins to smile.

“Mama.” She coos.

“Well, dad It’s what I want to do.” I hear Arthur say. Okay, so I’ve learned he’s on the phone with his dad. That answers one question.

“Are you hungry?” I ask Grace. I motion to Arthur that I’m going to go get her some food downstairs, but Arthur’s got his gazed hooked on the carpet and is clenching the phone in his hand, I don’t think he sees me.

I decide it’s probably best to remove Grace from the room just in case the conversation gets a bit on the yell-y side.

No one is downstairs yet and I pretend that Grace and I are entering into our own kitchen, in our own house. I strap her into the highchair and begin to hum as I prepare her some scrambled eggs.

It’s not until Grace is almost finished eating that Arthur comes down the stairs. I don’t know how it’s possible, but he seems to be aged ten years. He pulls out a kitchen chair and sinks down with a sigh.

“Eggs?” I ask, though what I really want to ask is what the heck just happened? Though, I know Arthur well enough now that he needs space. The wonderful thing about being mates and marriage is you begin to understand these non-verbal cues about what your significant other needs.

And right now, Arthur needs eggs which is why I don’t wait for his answer as I get to work.

“That was my father,” Arthur says.

“Oh,” I say. I don’t tell him that I already knew that.

“The company is back up. We’ve recouped over five-hundred-million dollars.” He says as if he just told me we we’re out of milk. I drop the spatula. Wet egg hits the floor and I spin around, gripping the counter behind me for stability.

“What?” I hear myself ask. My knees go weak.

“Arthur, this is great,” I say, though it doesn’t seem great, not according to Arthur’s face. Not to mention that we didn’t do a thing to earn that money. “ I mean, this means that-”

“I know what it means,” Arthur says with a wave of his hand.

“We can go back our lifestyle as it was. The public loves us again. In fact, I have a press meeting later today now.”

“How did this happen?” I ask, moving closer to him, my heart racing.

“My father did what he does.” Arthur shrugs. “Said the right thing to the right person, got a good investment, word spread. The rest is history.” He says with a wave of his hand dismissing all of it. “I told him I don’t want it.”

“Oh?” This time I say and mean it. It’s hard to describe the whiplash of feelings happening. One moment we have no money, then we’re millionaires, and now we have no money again all in a matter of two minutes.

Arthur rubs his face. ‘Yeah, when I told my dad that I wanted to make my own business, something Bess would be proud off he flew off the handle.” Arthur gets up from his chair and begins pacing the kitchen. “He said that was the stupidest thing he’s ever heard of.”

I wince at those words as if Roman had said them to me. “Arthur, that’s not true,” I say, but I know my own voice means nothing compared to the lack of approval from his father.

“I know that,” Arthur says, stopping in his tracks. “Which only makes me want to prove him wrong even more.”

“As you should.” I agree. Unexpectedly, Arthur laughs.

“You know what he said he’s going to do with my half if I walk away from this?” I shake my head no. “He said he’s going to give it to Robert.”