I must have misheard, because there was no way that Logan just told me I should quit my job. Maybe I did hit my head after all. Maybe this was all some kind of coma dream.
“Come again?” I asked.
“Quit your job,” he said. “I make enough that I can take care of you. It’s time you give up this pretense and become my wife.”
“I’m already your wife,” I said. “What you want is for me to be some kind of… of… what? Live-in servant?”
“A homemaker.” Logan’s brow pulled together in obvious confusion.
Some women were happy to be homemakers, and I had not ill will toward them. Taking care of a house and a family while supporting their partner was no easy job.
But I had my own career ambitions, my own dreams, and being a homemaker did not fit them.
Someday, I wanted to be a world-famous actress.
