A/N - This chapter is part two of another in this book. It was sort of inspired by the song Work by Iggy Azalea. I hope you all enjoy it.
"She's got to be with him for his money, right?" Your brow furrowed as you kept your head down, listening intently to the gossip passing between the two teenage girls, probably no older than 16, in the queue behind you whilst you waited for your coffees. Eddie tended to sleep way too late on the weekends, a habit that had only gotten worse since he'd started touring, and you quite enjoyed waking him up with a fresh coffee from your local coffee shop. So, you'd snuck out from under his arm that morning and tip-toed out of your bedroom to go on a hunt for breakfast. "I mean, he's hot, but he's not exactly the sort of guy I would imagine her going for," the girl pressed on. "She's so normal."
When you finally glanced in their direction, you were shocked to find them already looking at you, their attention suddenly darting away to look at anything else when they noticed you clocking them. Shit, you'd assumed they'd been talking about some friend or classmate or something, not you. Hell, you barely ever got recognised when you went out without Eddie at your side. You didn't get followed or papped when you were on your own. But it seemed that these girls had recognised you and they sure as Hell had some opinions about your relationship.
A wave of frustration washed over you as you continued staring at them. You weren't a golddigger. You were as far from that as you could possibly get. And if you had been, you would've been a pretty shitty one, to be honest. You'd met Eddie when you were in middle school when he was living with his Uncle Wayne in a shitty run-down trailer. Before he started dealing. Before he'd started Corroded Coffin. Back when he was just a small-town DnD nerd who listened to metal music. You'd fallen in love with him before he was the famous Eddie Munson, back when he was just your Ed, the guy who was so head over heels in love with you that he'd barely been able to talk to you without going red in the face and stuttering.
You'd gotten married in the courthouse when you were still stupid teenagers. Got your own place when you were stupid 20-year-olds. Moved to LA together when Eddie finally decided to give the band a real chance to take off. You'd been there for all of it. And yet, there was an unending supply of people and media outlets making assumptions about your relationship as if they knew the two of you better than you did.
It was infuriating, and God, maybe if you'd already taken a couple of sips of your coffee to wake you up properly and chill you out, you would've been able to brush it off. But, unfortunately, the barista was still working away on your order, and you'd already fixed the two girls with a dark glare.
"If you want to say something, you can say it," you muttered, watching them both shuffle awkwardly under your gaze. "Come on, you were so opinionated a second ago."
One of them cleared their throat. "It's just an interesting coincidence that he starts making money and suddenly you show up."
"Suddenly?" you interrupted, brow furrowing as a small smile pulled at your lips. "You're kidding right?"
"It was only when Corroded Coffin started becoming famous that you started hanging around him."
A snort of laughter slipped out of you and you shook your head slightly. "Sweetheart," you hummed softly, your tongue darting out to wet your bottom lip. "Eddie and I are both 33. We've been together since before you were even born. Shit, we probably got married before you were born."
"Bullshit-"
"I met him when he was 13. I knew him before he had braces, kiddo," you interrupted, sending her a sweet smile. "And for the record, if I was dating him for the money, it was a real long-con, because we were both broke as shit when we started dating. He asked me out and I said yes because he was the only guy in our grade who wasn't a total douchebag. It was just a real bonus that he was cute too."
The barista put the two cups on the counter, offering you a sweet smile as she called your name.
"Thank you so much," you told her, collecting your drinks before turning back to the two shell-shocked teens behind you. "Sorry to rush off, but I've got to get home to my husband before he gets all worried about where I've disappeared to," you uttered. "See you around, kids," you added, strutting out of the coffee shop with a bright ball of pride burning in your chest.
It felt good to finally have a chance to set the record straight. It felt good to prove that you loved Eddie because of who he was, not because of his money. Hell, it just felt good to let out all the frustration that had been building up from the shitty accusations that had been thrown at you by the general public.
When you'd gotten home, Eddie was only just stirring, looking completely lost until he spotted you in the bedroom doorway.
"Hey, Princess," he hummed out, making grabby hands in your direction as you smiled at him.
"Hey Handsome," you answered, crawling onto the bed, trying your hardest to balance yourself to avoid spilling the coffee when you leaned down to press a kiss to his lips.
He released a soft contented sigh. "You already been out?"
"It's almost midday, Baby," you teased gently. "Everyone has already been out but you."
He snorted with laughter, sitting up to accept his coffee from you. "God, how'd I get so lucky, huh?"
"Must've done something right in another life," you chuckled, tucking yourself into his side as you took a tentative sip from your cup. "I think I just bullied one of your fans at the shop," you finally uttered, causing him to snort again.
"What?"
You shrugged slightly. "She was talking shit about me," you confessed. "And I tried to be nice, but she was such a little shit-"
"What was she saying?"
"Nothing important," you muttered. "But I corrected her and I doubt she'll be spreading any more rumours about me."
"Yeah?"
You nodded. "Made sure none of these little bitches thinks I'm a golddigger."
He hesitated for a moment before letting out a sharp bark of laughter. "They think you're a golddigger?" he managed to question through his laughter, looking down at you as you nodded. "You'd've been the worst damn golddigger alive, dating me. Hell, I lived in a one-bedroom trailer with my uncle. We didn't even have any heating in the damn thing."
You chuckled. "I know that," you told him. "Apparently, some of these teenage fans of yours don't quite understand what living in Hawkins was like, Baby. They think you're some entitled little rich boy or something."
His laughter fell off at that. "Nobody thinks I'm an entitled rich boy," he corrected. "Please tell me none of them thinks I'm like Harrington or something-"
"Steve isn't like that-"
"He was back in high school," he corrected before you could answer. "Please, baby. No one thinks I was like that, right?"
Your lips twitched into a little half-smile. "There's not a soul alive that thinks you grew up rich, Baby. They've all seen those pictures of you in the van. There isn't a rich kid alive whose parents would let them drive that deathtrap."
"Thank God," he breathed out, causing a soft giggle to bubble out of you. "So, you got all mean with some teenagers?"
"Not mean so much as a little short-tempered-"
"I've seen you pissed off, Baby. You're good at being mean."
"Asshole," you muttered, tucking your head back against his shoulder as he snorted with laughter.
He hummed, his arm wrapping around your shoulders as he took a sip of his coffee. "You didn't get yourself banned from the shop, right?"
"Nope."
"Thank God, this is damn good coffee."
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