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“Dear Francesca, we are pleased to welcome you—” my eyes skimmed down the rest of the page. And I smiled. “You got into nursing school? Congratulations.” I felt my eyebrows nearly jump off my face.
I expected to see a giant smile on her face. Instead, what I saw was—disappointment. “Yeah, thanks.” She tried to take back the letter, but I wouldn't let her.
“Why are you mad? I thought this would be a good thing?” I asked, confused. Francesca hadn't told me that she was applying for school. But I could understand why. She might not have wanted anyone to know if she didn't get accepted. That wouldn't have mattered to me. At all. Even so, I could understand why she'd want to keep something like that to herself.
“Yeah, it's great.” She reached into her backpack and pulled out a pair of gloves. She slipped them on and opened the glue. Then she picked up one of the homemade puzzle pieces and went to work on it.
There was still something off, though.
Really off.
Getting into nursing school had been a dream of hers. There was no reason why she shouldn't be excited about it.
She was hiding something from me.
I tossed the acceptance letter to the floor and yanked her backpack onto my lap. There was a stack of papers inside, and I pulled them out.
“Wait! Don't!” Francesca said, but I was already standing and walking to the bed. I sat down and flipped through the many pages.
She'd applied for a—loan.
A fucking student loan.
And they'd denied her.
Flat out told her to go to hell. Immediately.
I dropped the papers beside the puzzle and looked over at her. “I told you I'd pay for your school. Why did you do this?” I jerked my head at the loan papers scattered in front of me.
She took a breath and went back to her puzzle pieces. “You're not paying for my school, Stefan.” She carefully finished gluing one piece and picked up another one.
“I am. Get me the bill and I'll pay it right now.”
She let out a small, sad laugh. “You're not paying, honey. I told you that already. This isn't your problem.” She grabbed another puzzle piece and began carefully applying glue to it.
“You're mine. So, yes, I'm paying,” I insisted, trying my best to let her know she wasn't going to win this fight. Because she fucking wasn't.
When she didn't look up—or answer me, I said, “Chesca. What's the problem here? I offered to pay. I have money. I think you understand that. I don't see an issue.”
She set down the freshly glued piece and picked up the last one. “You're not paying. I shouldn't even have tried to apply. Even if they'd given me the loan, it wouldn't have been enough, anyway. There's no way I could make enough for my rent and other living expenses.” She shook her head and shrugged. “I guess I just wanted to see if I'd get accepted. But I feel even worse now. So, it really wasn't worth it.”
I sighed and did my best not to explode. “You won't have any fucking living expenses, Chesca. You'll be living with me.” Again, I tried my level best to calm the fucking rage that was ready to burst forth. “And I have money. A lot of it. Your tuition is barely a drop in the bucket.”
Her eyes rose to mine, and she shook her head. “I don’t even know you. I'm not letting you pay tens of thousands of dollars for me. That's stupid.”
If I had the strength, I'd—well, I'd do a lot of things. But at the moment, I couldn't do a damn thing.
“Give me your phone.” I stretched out my hand. “I'll make one call, and you can go pick out binders and pens.” I smiled at her and waited.
And waited.
Jesus.
This woman.
“Why are you fighting me on this?” I lowered my voice. “You're moving in with me. It's my job to take care of you. And that includes nursing school. If you go for a week and hate it—” I shrugged, “then don't go back. Fuck it. But at least give it a shot. Or you'll regret it.”
Francesca slipped off her gloves and sat back. She licked her lips and crossed her arms. “We'll talk about it in a few days. Okay? I'm just not in the right mindset right now.”