Ronan

Chapter Thirty-Nine

Gone were the days where Rosa just couldn't touch her feet. These days, she couldn't even see them. She'd warded off shoes completely, opting to potter around the villa in comfy slippers. What was the point in shoes anyway? It wasn't like she had anywhere to go. Ha! It wasn't like she could go anywhere thanks to the prick's latest barrier spell.

There was nothing more infuriating than watching him come and go everyday whist she had no choice in the matter. The worst part? She couldn't even do anything about it.

She swore she was going mad. Forced to her own company or only Ronan's, she'd started talking to herself, swapping between imaginary friends and conversations with her bloated stomach. And even when Ronan was in, she didn't want to talk to him. They were having the same discussions, balking over the same disagreements.

She needed an out. A friend. An anonymous hotline. Anything would do.

She missed Triumph. At least she'd been able to speak to Raya in that realm. She'd had a break from Ronan. Gods, she missed her sister. She missed speaking to Chronos. Hell, she missed speaking to random customers at the pub.

Even if she did look forward to her discussions with Ronan on occasion—since there was no one else around to talk to—she made it abundantly clear that she wasn't happy with him.

As he arrived from work in the early afternoon, she didn't so much as turn from her potato position on the sofa to face him, merely calling, "I hate you."

He'd taken that as a synonym for I love you. Most days he called one of the two back.

Astoundingly, his patience had become endless. He let her kick him away, shoo him, mock him, bicker, and pester without a single complaint. Not a single one.

Yet another thing that was infuriating.

It might've brought her some comfort thinking this was just as hard for him as it was for her. But it wasn't hard for him. Not at all. In fact, she'd taken to thinking he liked their new arrangement.

He barely had to worry about her if he knew where she'd be at all times in the day.

"What did I do?"

He was endlessly chipper. Endlessly happy. Even with the weight of the world pressing down on him.

As far as she was aware, he'd made zero progress on securing their safety. Nadine was still out and about, the prophecy was still out there somewhere and the allies were still plotting against him.

But he let none of this show, exposing no weakness to her.

Even months down the line, the severity of her promise still clouded the air between them.

If given no choice, she'd take him from her life, whether he liked it or not. And so, he'd taken to sharing as little bad news with her as possible—making her forget?

Rosa didn't make room for him on the sofa as he came to sit down. He simply lifted her legs, dropping them into his lap.

She glowered at him over her stomach.

"I know what you're thinking."

"Oh really?" He challenged, awfully relaxed. "Go on then baby. Tell me what I'm thinking."

"For starters, you think I'm enormous. Secondly, you think I'm rotting and are trying to think of a way to bring up an intervention. And finally, you think I'm being dramatic."

How was he smiling right now?

Oh, that was right. This is what he wants.

He'd take her constant hatred over not having her.