The Holloways (Made for Love Book 3.5) by R.C. Martin Read Free Book Online Page A

was this adorable outfit I saw that I just had to pick up for Caroline. Well, then one outfit turned into three. Then I just decided to pick up a few things for myself and—”
    “Babe—this is not a few things,” I interrupt, gesturing to the pile of purchases that cover the bed. “How much did you spend on all of that?”
    “Um, I don’t know,” she says with a shrug. “Maybe a few hundred.”
    My eyebrows shoot up in surprise. “A few hundred?”
    “Well, I wasn’t walking around with a calculator, but if I had to guess—like five, maybe six?”
    “Six? Six hundred? You just decided to spend six hundred dollars today without discussing it with me?” I demand to know, folding my arms across my chest.
    She huffs out a sigh, mimicking my stance. “It’s not like we don’t have it, Rome.”
    “That’s not the point. Do you even need half of this stuff?” I ask, rummaging through each bag. I’m so worked up that it all looks the same—clothes, clothes, and more clothes. “You need to take this stuff back,” I state, sure that these impulse buys are just that, impulsive and completely unnecessary.
    “Excuse me?” she mutters, tugging on my arm.
    “I didn't stutter, babe. This stuff goes back. Tomorrow.”
    Her face scrunches up in anger as her arms fall to her sides. “What is your problem? Are you trying to pick a fight right now?”
    I turn to face her, appalled that she’s so oblivious to the issue at hand. “Logan, you can’t just go on a shopping spree and drop half a grand because you feel like it.”
    “What about my holiday bonus check? I didn’t even spend half of it! What's the big deal if I splurge a little? Are you telling me that I can’t spend my own money?”
    “That’s not what I’m saying and you know it,” I mutter, shaking my head in frustration.
    “Actually, no, I don’t. What I do know is that I’m not having this conversation right now. I don’t know what the hell your problem is, or why you decided to just come home and start yelling at me, but we’re leaving in a half an hour to go meet our friends and I’m not done getting ready. Yell at me later—or don’t . That would be better. Either way, I’m not leaving here with wet hair.” She brushes past me without another word, slamming the bathroom door behind her.
    I can’t believe that ten minutes ago, all I could think about was burying myself in that woman. Instead, the place where I intended to take her—completely naked—is covered in shopping bags filled with only God knows what. I mutter under my breath as I head to the dresser for a change of clothes. I'll shower in the guest bath. There’s no way I’m trying to get into our bathroom with her all fired up in there.
    She’s right. We aren’t strapped for cash. Even after the holidays, we’re looking pretty good. We don’t usually spend a whole lot; and with the condo paid off, it’s pretty easy for us to set money aside. Being in school, only working part time, I know that she brings in a lot more than me. I’m not a prick—I don’t have anything against her spending the money she’s earned—but we agreed that our finances would be ours . I don’t believe in that his and hers nonsense. She’s my wife, I’m her husband, and we share everything.
    I’m not mad that she spent the money. Well—not entirely. I’m more upset that she felt like she could do so without talking to me about it first. Add to that her negligence to lock the door, something I’ve told her to do repeatedly, and who could blame me for losing my temper? Now, spending the night over pizza and beer with old friends doesn't sound appealing—not with Logan and I at odds. If there’s one thing I hate more than anything, it’s fighting with my wife .
     

    I hate fighting with my husband.
    There’s always a moment. With Roman, ever since I fell in love with him, there’s always this moment that happens when we’re in the middle of an argument. Sometimes, it surfaces