Chapter 200 No Remarrying, Get Lost
Winona Sullivan's eyes widened in shock, staring at the man who spoke as if what he said was the most natural thing in the world.
Even though she hadn't witnessed the scene Rebecca Davis described, she could imagine Zachary Bailey's anger. He'd been pouring resources into Fiona, pulling strings, ever-obliging and at her beck and call, only for his goddess to stand on her high horse, to get angry and snub him, then turn around and sleep with an older man, who was in every way inferior to himself, all for the sake of those resources, and all in public, no less.
Knowing Zachary Bailey's temperament, it was already generous of him not to take drastic measures against Fiona right then and there.
"Calm down. Don't make a decision in the heat of the moment that you'll regret," Winona offered, not wanting to mock Zachary Bailey considering he had stood up for her before. Instead, she tried to reason with him gently, "If you want a tolerable life, you have to turn a blind eye sometimes, pretend you don't know."
Who needs dignity if he could get a shred of attention from his goddess—it was something even praying fervently couldn't bring about.
Zachary Bailey was taken aback for a few seconds before he realized the implication of her words. Frowning discontentedly, he said, "We're talking about remarrying, why bring up irrelevant people?"
See, just as she thought, he was indeed riled up—his precious belle suddenly insignificant.
Winona snorted coldly, "No remarrying. Get lost."
She had finally gotten free of him; was she out of her mind or just blocked by stupidity to even consider marrying Zachary Bailey again?
He and Fiona were such a perfect match; they should just lock it down and spare everyone else their drama, especially her.
But she kept those words to herself. Who knew if Zachary, who couldn't stand being provoked, would drag her off to the courthouse on a whim to prove a point?
Winona was still contemplating the revisions suggested by Matthew Watson, offering comfort so half-heartedly, that it was blindingly obvious. She didn't even notice Zachary Bailey's expression had turned as cold as ice, "Miss Clark has always been high and mighty. It's natural for her to be upset if you don't help her out with the rumors swirling around her lately."
She had the spirit of a neighborhood committee lady, advocating reconciliation over separation "A little touch isn't going to cost you a limb. You're a man; you need to be more magnanimous."
Zachary Bailey replied sarcastically, "Oh, you're one to talk about generosity, constantly trying to push your husband toward other women."
"I'm doing you a favor since you're so fond of her..."
The man interrupted her impatiently, "Who told you I like her?"
"You don't like her?"
Surprised, Winona Sullivan finally looked up at him.
Zachary Bailey nodded his distinguished and aloof head, "Don't like her."
"Ugh," Winona Sullivan said with distaste, "you really are a jerk."
Her words angered the man so much that his chest hurt, "Winona Sullivan, are all women as unreasonable as you? You accuse me of liking Fiona, insisting on divorcing me, calling me a jerk and a bastard. Now I tell you I don't like her and you still call me a jerk. So in your mind, I'm always a jerk, regardless of how I feel about Fiona, right?"
Communicating such complex issues with a straightforward man like Zachary Bailey was an impossible task. Training a blunt guy to become a warmhearted sweetheart was a job for his future wife, not her. She wasn't about to do the thankless task of laying the groundwork for someone else to enjoy the benefits.
It's not like she had nothing better to do.
After waiting in vain for an explanation from Winona Sullivan, Zachary Bailey turned to find her messaging Matthew Watson.
His eyesight was excellent, and at a glance, he saw the content was about Traverse City, but even so, his patience was growing thin at a visible rate.
The steering wheel creaked under his grip, "When are we going to get remarried?"
"Not happening," Winona Sullivan said without lifting her head, not sparing any extra words.
"I won't throw away the food you order anymore."
The man was silent for a few seconds, then said, "I will fulfill my marital duties as well."
As he said this, his palm brushed against the steering wheel.
Winona Sullivan nearly choked, seeing his reluctant demeanor, as if sleeping with her was an unbearable ordeal, "I'm ever so grateful."
"No need to thank me, it's a husband's duty."
Winona Sullivan didn't even bother to argue back; it was a waste of energy to craft a response.
She continued discussing specifics about the design revisions with Matthew Watson, ignoring Zachary Bailey. However, she overheard him answering a phone call. She didn't catch the details because he just responded with noncommittal hums, but she noticed his mood improved significantly during the latter half of the drive.
Arriving at the base of the apartment building, Zachary Bailey insisted on escorting Winona Sullivan upstairs, despite her protests.
Standing outside the door, he immediately noticed the decor inside - all in a style he disliked. It was almost painful to his eyes to look at it. "Don't bother bringing any of that junk when the time comes," he said.
Winona Sullivan, puzzled and not quite understanding his comment, retorted with a sharp, "Mind your own business."
Zachary Bailey moved his lips as if to say something more but then thought better of it and swallowed his words.
He figured he'd wait until they remarried and she moved back in to throw all that stuff out.
...
Back at Regal Oaks, the household staff hadn't yet retired for the night and hurried to bring him his slippers.
The servants usually didn't live in, but Lydia had insisted, pointing out how lonely he looked by himself, like a ghost. If anything happened to him in the middle of the night, he might be long gone before it was discovered.
As he changed his shoes, Zachary Bailey instructed, "Wash and iron all of Mrs. Bailey's clothes tomorrow."
The servant's face lit up with joy, "Is the young madam moving back in?"
"Yes."
"Good, I'll get her clothes ready early tomorrow and prepare a meal with all her favorite dishes."
Zachary Bailey paused on his way upstairs. "Her favorites? What does she like?"
He had researched Winona Sullivan and knew she wasn't picky, she'd eat anything. But Matthew Watson had mentioned she didn't eat crab. What Zachary Bailey didn't know was that when he had her investigated, Winona had no say in the Sullivan family—not even sure of a full meal, let alone having the luxury of preferences. She'd eat whatever the servants cooked, which were Layla’s and her daughter's favorites. It wasn't until after marrying Zachary Bailey that she gradually started to express her own preferences.
Oblivious to his expression, the servant replied, "The young madam isn't picky, but there are a few dishes she particularly loves."
She listed several dishes, and Zachary Bailey grunted in acknowledgment, "From now on, set the household menu with these dishes in mind."
Returning to the master bedroom, he slumped on the couch, legs crossed, leaning back lazily.
His gaze fell onto a glass ornament on the nightstand—one that Winona Sullivan had purchased. Even though she had moved out some time ago, her belongings still remained in their places in the master bedroom, including a bottle of perfume she hadn't taken, sitting neatly in the dressing table drawer.
Zachary Bailey dialed Samuel Anderson's number.
Samuel Anderson was just kicked out of bed by Julia, blankets and all, and was now sitting in his study, smoking irritably when he picked up the phone and snapped, "What's up?"
Zachary Bailey wasn't bothered by his sour tone, "Just letting you know, I'm getting remarried."
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