I Am Not Yours

Desperate

A/N: This chapter contains smut and it may seem a bit out of character at first, but as the fic goes on, it will make more sense....I hope lol. Enjoy. Leave some reviews please!

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November 1912

"Where are you taking those muffins?" Elizabeth asked Abigail with hands on her hips as if she were offended she wasn't allowed to have one.

"I am going to Henry Gowen's to convince him not to sell the cafe." Abigail told her.

"To his house?" Elizabeth asked, stunned.

"Yes. Bringing muffins to his office used to work. This way it seems more personal and frankly...I'm desperate."

"Desperate?"

"Yes....Elizabeth, I've finally found my purpose other than being a wife and mother. It's through my cafe. Feeding people. Cooking and baking for you all. In my own way....And if Henry sells the cafe to that awful man, I will be doing things HIS way...and yet again...I will be doing everything a man says. I do not want to go back to that."

"I understand." Elizabeth nodded. "And I support you, one hundred percent."

"Thank you." Abigail softly smiled and hugged her best friend before lifting the basket of muffins she had baked just for Henry, exactly the way he liked them.

"Good luck." Elizabeth told her as she headed for the back door of the cafe, leaving it with a deep breath of confidence and she headed down the street toward Henry's mansion just outside of town.

It didn't take her long to realize that the route she had taken was that of hers and Henry's on the morning that they met, heading toward the fishing creek. She placed her basket of muffins on her right forearm and sighed to herself, now being reminded of the basket of eggs she had with her the first time they laid eyes on each other. They could have been good friends. She knew it. They got along so well before he felt betrayed in some way by her. But she knew not to blame herself. She had done nothing wrong and neither had he. It was all an embarrassing misunderstanding and Henry just didn't take it too well. Abigail often wondered if his outrage on the situation had more to do with his feeling foolish than it did with his being upset.

These were all questions she wanted answered yet another part of her didn't want to care so much if it were true that the death of her son and husband was Henry's fault entirely. If her dream of running a farm with Noah was truly crushed by Henry and his jealousy, she wanted to hear it from his own lips. If her dream of having more children was crushed because of him and their tiny rowhouse and lack of money, she needed him to tell her himself.

Her anger only metastasized the second she reached his mansion, seeing its size for the first time and the beautiful garden out front near his car. Abigail's jaw fell open as she looked up at the two story house, wondering why one man would need such a big place all to himself.

She regained her composure, closing her mouth finally as she reached his big Navy blue door, using the metal knocker on it to see if Henry was even home.

After a few series of big knocks, the door opened to reveal Henry in an all gray suit and a sky blue button down underneath it.

"What? No butler?" Abigail joked when she saw that it was Henry opening his own front door.

"No. No butler." Henry replied half-heartedly.

She raised the basket up in the air a bit. "I brought you freshly baked muffins."

Without a word, Henry stepped aside to allow Abigail inside his corridor. She looked around at the marble floors and mahogany walls, clutching the basket in her fists, wanting to admire the mansion, but feeling too furious to really pay attention to it.