And he will. He'll go.
Because she asked him to.
She then spent the rest of the party making sure to avoid him. Any time he was within a hundred feet, she would turn on her heel and walk away.
She doubted he even noticed. Assumed he certainly wouldn't care.
And she carried this thought with her as she continued on with the evening, slipping away after a while to grab a drink.
That's where he found her.
She'd turned around and run straight into his chest. His large hands came out to grasp onto her arms and keep her steady as she gasped and shot him a bewildered look.
"Hi," he'd said, smiling in that lazy, confident way she'd grown so used to.
She straightened up and pulled herself free from his touch. "What?"
His head cocked to the left, a dark strand of hair sweeping across his eye. "Just...saying hello."
"Well...you said it," she retorted. "Now, if you'll excuse me—"
"No." His eyebrow rose. "No, I won't excuse you, actually. Not until you answer my question."
She narrowed her eyes. "Your question?"
"My question."
"We're at a party, Harold. I don't see any need for questions."
"No, you never do. But we must. I must know your answer."
Her eyes rolled as she sighed. "Fine. Be quick with it."
He'd taken a moment to study her. Perhaps looking for just the right phrasing. "What would you do if you weren't here?"
She blinked. "If I wasn't here, then I wouldn't be having this ridiculous conversation with you—"
"No," he interrupted. "No, what...what would you do if you weren't here? At the mansion. As a Bunny. If you weren't...his."
The question threw her off guard as she leaned back. "Well...what does it matter? I hardly think that what I would be doing has any bearing now—"
"Answer me, Michelle."
Her hands found her hips. "I don't know. I've never thought about it. Never wanted to think about it because I don't want to be doing anything else."
"You don't want a life outside of Hugh?" he questioned, almost with an air of disbelief. "You don't want to move away and be your own person? Instead of his plaything? You don't want your own house, and life, and...everything that comes with that?"
Beginning to understand his game, she straightened up. "You mean a husband and kids and a little white picket fence? Is that what you're implying? That I'm wrong for not wanting to be somebody's wife?"
"No. No, I was just—"
"Did you think that's what this was, Harold?" she pushed. "That this summer was just you grooming me to be your perfect little pet? That you'd steal me away from all this and make a housewife out of me and I would thank you for doing so? Is that what you wanted?"
"No," he seethed, a certain indignation in his expression. "No, I just...I just want to know what you want, Michelle. I don't...I can never understand you. Can never understand what you're expecting of me. You run circles around the truth and leave me to chase after you, and I'm tired. I'm tired of not knowing where you're going."
Catch Us If You Can*
Start from the beginning
