007: We need to talk

~~PEYTON~~

It's been a day, and I've been avoiding Odin like a disease. I've locked myself in my room, staying put until he finally leaves for work.

Even then, I move through the apartment like a ghost, tiptoeing around corners, half-expecting to bump into him. I eat in my room, read in my room, practically live in my room. The idea of running into him, of having to face his stupid pose of "we need to talk," annoys me.

It seems his blonde "friend" has become a regular. I hear her laugh, her moans, sometimes shouts that grate on my nerves.

They don't just "do it" in their room. They do it in the kitchen, my kitchen, even on the couch, the hallway, the fucking stairs.

When the sounds come, I grab my blanket and pull it over my head. I'll try to block out everything, and that, usually leads to me thinking about Axel. Replaying the text he sent, the one I've memorized, the one that makes my heart ache and flutter all at once.

"You're the one who'll come to me."

Just seven words, but they're enough to transport me far away from here.

My stomach growls, a clear sign it's past time for food. I glance at my phone: 10 AM.

Finally, I push myself off my blanket and pad into the kitchen.

The coast seems clear. There's silence, and it makes me wonder when Odin left for work this morning. I didn't really pay much attention as I drowned in my sleep.

I grab a mug and the tea bags, then fill the kettle. The ritual of making tea is one of the few constants I have left.

As the water boils, I pull out my phone to order food. Cooking isn't an option; I've never been able to master anything beyond toast, and Odin made it clear a long time ago that my culinary attempts were a fire hazard.

As I wait, I hear footsteps.

I freeze.

There, at the stairs, is Odin and the same blonde, descending as if they own the place. His hand rests on her waist, and she's beaming, a saccharine smile plastered on her face. As they reach the bottom step, she turns and plants a quick kiss on his lips.

"Just sit while I prepare breakfast."

Odin hums and flashes her a smile.

He saunters over to the counter, right next to where I'm standing frozen, and props himself up, watching her with that same stupid, adoring look he reserves only for these temporary bitches.

I bite my lips, clutching my still-hot mug. No, I'm not shrinking. I'm not trying to be invisible, but I'm just controlling myself as my blood boils.

The blonde hums a song as she pulls out a pan, a picture of domestic bliss that makes me want to scream.

Then Odin's voice, a low whisper, cuts through. "Are you ready to talk now? You imprisoned yourself in your room. I actually thought it was a self-made punishment for the stunt you pulled yesterday."

I stay quiet.

"Now that she's busy, let's settle this. The whole charade with Raphael and the curfew incident for starters." He adds, and that's the goddamn straw.

I yank his collar and shove him back against the wall. The impact makes a dull thud, and his eyes, for a split second, widen in surprise.

The blonde, who was just about to crack an egg into the pan, freezes, her head snapping towards us.

My grip on his collar tightens, my knuckles white.

"You wanna talk? Then let's talk. I'll start." I spit. "You broke the damn rules—"

"Oh, you're talking about rules? How about your curfew? And take your freaking hand off me." He snaps and tries to pull back, but I hold on, fueled by the rage that has been simmering for days.

"What is she doing in my kitchen?" I demand. "As if asking for an open marriage wasn't enough, you're fucking blondes in my kitchen? No other woman is allowed in our home, Odin!"

"You're the one to talk." He retorts. "How about you coming home without panties and screwing yourself in your car, forgetting your curfew?"

"You spy on my pussy! You bastard!" I scream, my face hot. No, it's not from shame; it's his audacity.

"Oh, what did you expect me to do?" Odin scoffed. "Drive with my eyes closed?"

I seethe. Then I heard it. A clicking sound of pans. Low at first, but as I tried to speak again, it got louder to a full-blown clang. Both our heads snapped to the blonde.

She stood there, two pans in her hands, hitting them together. "Can you let go of him and speak like civilized people?" she says, tilting her head like a mama watching her two kids fight.

Did she just shush me? I took a long, deep breath.

"He did tell you I'm his wife, right?"

She hesitates. "Ye-ah..."

"Then shut your fucking mouth and stay invisible," I snap, and she opens her mouth, speechless.

Odin successfully rips my hands off his collar, straightens out the rumples on his shirt, and steps away from the wall.

"Alright, let's refresh some rules in this house. There'll be new ones, so everybody can be happy."

His voice is less sharp now, almost casual, yet it still carries a venomous edge. He gestures upstairs. "Let's talk."

Then he turns to the blonde. "Call me when breakfast is ready, baby."

She smiles, but it drops when she meets my gaze.

I trail behind Odin, counting the number of steps as we go. I'm trying not to snap and punch him in the face. We'll probably end up fighting anyway; I just want to diffuse it only a little.

We are in his room... the same room he fucked the bitch.

"Listen and don't snap." He starts, and I nod, crossing my arms.

"I was going to tell you about the change of plans of you know what..." he sighs. "Kira is my girlfriend. Real girlfriend. I'm no longer flinging."

I'm silent.

"You can have a boyfriend; no one's stopping you, but this you'll have to accept. Kira will come more often."

My face scrunches, and he cuts me off before I can speak.

"She won't move in, I promise... at least not until the one year is up and my inheritance is secured." He pauses, then snaps. "And that thing with Rafael—don't let it happen again. I almost lost a tooth."

...

I stare at him. I might look calm, but inside, I'm reeling.

Real girlfriend.

It's one thing to know he's with other women, another entirely to hear him formalize it, to put a label on it that implies some semblance of commitment.

A hard lump forms in my throat.

"So," I manage, "this is your idea of 'everybody can be happy'?" My gaze sweeps around the room, the rumpled sheets on his bed, and the blonde's purse laying proudly on the nightstand.

"New rules, you said? What, are we going to draw up a schedule for who gets to use the kitchen next?" I can't help the sarcasm dripping from every word.

He just watches me, impassive. "It's about making things clear, Peyton. No more grey areas. Kira's part of my life now. And if you want to play your games, fine. Just keep it clean. Mess around for all I care, but come home before midnight for your own safety." His eyes narrow on me. "We cool?"

My feet tap on the ground.

"Peyton." He calls, and I don't answer immediately. I give him a moment of satisfaction while I rack my brains of the thousand words I'd like to spit in his face.

Finally, I say, "You know what's really bugging me right now? It's how you groaned my name while you took my virginity, only for you to dump me a year later for a blonde."

Odin shakes his head. "No, no, no, we are not going there... we broke up, alright, but unfortunately, we are stuck in this marriage."

"No, you're the one stuck!" I fire back. "I can pack my bags right now and leave this shithole and won't lose a damn thing, but it's you who will suffer the consequences."

Odin laughs. "You're funny, Peyton, and delusional, you know that?" He leans closer. "If you leave, you miss the ten million. I bet you've never held that much money in your life, so with your greed, you're stuck with me till the end of the year. Or do you want to go back to step mommy who keeps feeding off of you? Oh, I bet you don't."