Exodus

by Stewart , Kate

  “Oui.”

  “So how could I not love them?”

  We stare off until he gives me the faint dip of his chin. Refusing to look for or try to decipher any further reaction, I click the light back off and lay my head on my pillow facing away from him when he sounds up next to me.

  “I will never speak of this to you again.” This time, I hide behind his native tongue. “Es-tu jaloux?” Are you jealous?”

  “Non.” No.

  I disregard the uncomfortable and unwelcome sting his quick answer gives. “I was honest with you.”

  He pulls me to him, my back to his front as he rests his head on my pillow, his warm breath hitting my ear. “So was I. Je ne veux pas n’être qu’une phase pour toi.”

  “English, Tobias. Please.”

  Silence.

  And in seconds, he’s asleep.

  The next morning, I wake to see my phone lying on the pillow next to me. I unlock it, and when the screen lights up, I realize my email has been checked, the most recent from my father.

  It’s a summons—a summons to sign for my inheritance, tomorrow.

  Tobias saw it. Which means our deal ends the minute the ink dries.

  Once that money is safely transferred to my new bank account, we have no more business together. I’ll be free, and he’ll be free to move in on Roman.

  Standing in the middle of my bedroom, I make a quick decision to pack an overnight bag, drive to Charlotte and get a hotel to prepare myself mentally. I don’t want to smell him on my sheets or study the drops of blood on my comforter while I mull over the feelings that threatened with our intimate exchange.

  Dismissing what happened between us last night is the smartest move. It felt like there was a definite shift in our hate/fuck relationship. But I have to reject any idea that it was more than a late-night confession between two enemies calling a temporary truce.

  But what if he had meant every word, every kiss, every touch? He had absolutely no motive to be so deceitful. He had no reason to confess or ask the questions he did, to touch me the way he did. To look at me the way he did.

  He’s fucking with you. Sign the papers, punch your timecard, cash in, and go back to Georgia.

  The second after I sign the papers, there’s a good chance I will never see Tobias again.

  And good riddance.

  Right?

  I have no way of reaching out, no way of contacting him. Much like the men before him, when our arrangement ends, I’ll once again be locked out.

  This is a purposeful advantage on his end. And what would I say to him anyway if I could?

  Somehow, he’s slipped into more than my bed. He’s managed to occupy my thoughts too. But at this point, I can still make it safely away from him without adding another scar.

  He’s a liar. His words, his looks, his touches—all lies. He wants me as his ally for his agenda. Nothing more. I don’t even know where he lives.

  We are business.

  “Don’t be a fucking fool,” I scold, throwing a suitable pair of slacks and a silk blouse along with the heels I chose into my bag.

  After packing up, I lock the house up just as I get a confirmation email from the hotel of my reservation. Once buckled in my Jeep, I shoot a quick email to my supervisor at the plant and put in for two days of paid time off. Honestly, I don’t give a damn if I’m fired. I’m surprised Roman agreed to sign early, considering I still have a little over six weeks left to fulfill my end of our arrangement.

  It takes me a little over two hours to get to Charlotte. I took my time on my drive, knowing I have nothing to look forward to once I get to the hotel.

  Tomorrow I’ll be a millionaire, but for some reason today, I feel bankrupt.

  Any normal woman would be charging up room service, popping bottles, or one-clicking a new pair of heels. Or, at the very least, building an impressive shopping cart.

  All I feel is dread.

  Sitting at the edge of the bed, I run a finger along my lips when memory kicks in.

  Tobias woke me in the middle of the night with his lips, his tongue, before he took me.

  And he didn’t just take me, he consumed me, hooking my thigh on his hip before pushing inside me from behind. Blood surges between my legs as my chest heats and my face flames.

  “Call out to me, Cecelia,” he murmurs, pumping into me slowly, his strokes deliberate, filling me as he sucks my fingers into his mouth before guiding them to where our bodies meet, pressing them to my clit, drawing out my orgasm.

  “Damnit!” I stand and pace the room before running a hot bath. Lowering into the scalding water, I wince at the sting between my legs before laying a washcloth on my face.

  Days ago, I wanted him as far away from me as possible. I was still toeing the line between lust and hate.

  I cannot feel for this man.

  It’s better that it ends now.

  It’s already over. No goodbyes necessary.

  And maybe, the waiting phone on my pillow was his way of saying it was over as well.

  Fine.

  We live on opposite sides of the universe. Our worlds are completely different.

  “He doesn’t feel a fucking thing for you. He can only play you if you let him.” And now, with our arrangement satisfied, he’ll disappear just as suddenly as he came.

  Good. Good riddance.

  After leaving Triple Falls, I’ll go off to school, graduate, and dominate the field of my choice. And maybe, one day, I’ll marry and have children.

  But it’s the pounding at my temple, and the gnaw in my chest that refutes that type of future. Do I want that life?

  All my best-laid plans now seem simple-minded, if not a bit boring and predictable. My focus before I moved to Triple Falls had been solely on just making it through with Mom. I always dreamed of the day I’d gain my freedom, but I didn’t plan past that. Now that day is almost here, and any plan I’ve come up with recently doesn’t seem like enough for me anymore.

  Pulling myself out of the bath, I dress in my pajamas and sip whiskey from the small flask I packed before I dial my mother. She answers on the second ring.

  “Hey, baby girl. What are you up to?”

  “I’m in Charlotte. I’ve got a meeting with Dad in the morning.”

  “Oh?” She lingers on the line.

  “Mom, I’m signing tomorrow.”

  “You don’t sound so happy about it.”

  “Money doesn’t make me happy.”

  “It’s good you found that out early. But a lack of it sucks.”

  “I mean, I hated it when we were broke, you know? When you worried yourself sick, but—”

  “We did okay, didn’t we?” I can hear the smile in her voice.

  “Five bucks worth of gas and tater tots.”

  “I miss you, kid.”

  “I miss you too. But I called for a reason.”

  “Okay.”

  “Look, I know what you’re going to say, but I need your bank account info.”

  “What, honey? No. That’s all yours. It’s meant for you.”

  “And I want no part of it. The son of a bitch is a multi-millionaire and made us do without for years paying the bare minimum while we scraped by. It’ll be my money and therefore my decision. I want you taken care of. And I want you…to see someone.”

  “You want me to see a shrink?”

  “Yes. If you think it will help. Yes…I want you to get help. I think you need it.”

  “Wow. Subtlety is no longer your strong suit. What happened to my sweet little girl?”

  “I’m sorry.” I sip my whiskey, thankful for the burn and the numbness that follows. “I didn’t mean for it to come out that way.”

  “Tell me what’s wrong.”

  “Nothing, I’m fine. We’re talking about you.”

  “Then I’m fine.”

  “Will you stop with that shit, Mom?”

  “No, I will not.”

  “I am fine. I’m just…tired.”

  “Same
guy?” The insinuation in her voice brings all my wandering thoughts of Tobias to a crashing halt. Even if it’s my head he’s invading, he’s got me vulnerable. I hate that she can hear it.

  Just like that, all my shields snap back into place.

  I’m done. I’m done thinking about him. I’m done fantasizing about him.

  “Mom, we’ll talk about this some other time, okay? I’m going to wire you some money as soon as the funds are transferred. Life-changing money. You be happy about it.”

  “You know I can’t take money from you.”

  “Then take money from Roman.”

  “He’s truly not the cold-hearted man he makes himself out to be.”

  “It’s much too late.”

  “I don’t want his money, Cecelia.”

  “What do you want from him?”

  I can hear the flick of her lighter, and her exhale. “Nothing. He gave me the best thing he could ever give me.”

  “Why won’t you talk about him? If you’re so determined that I give him a chance, then give me a reason to.”

  “Because he’s your father.”

  “Not good enough. Does he think you tried to trap him? Is that why he’s been so stingy with his money?”

  “You mean baby trap him? No, no, nothing like that.”

  “Then tell me what it’s like. I really would like to know. Don’t you think I deserve to know?”

  “There will come a day when I’ll explain things to you, but for now, can you just try to be patient with him?”

  “No,” I’m adamant. “My patience has run out. He’s given me nothing, and I’m only here…” I cut myself off mid-sentence. I don’t want her to ever know I spent my time in Triple Falls to make sure she’s taken care of.

  “Parents love their children, Cecelia, even if some are incapable of showing it the way they should.”

  “Why are you defending him? I don’t get it.”

  “I just hoped you living with him would change things.”

  “He lives here, in Charlotte. I haven’t seen him since the 4th last summer.”

  “What?! Jesus, Cecelia, you’ve been alone in that house this whole time?”

  “Basically. Kind of. I’ve made…friends.”

  “Cee, how did I not know this?”

  “I didn’t want to bother you with it. Nothing you can do about it anyway.”

  I hear her sniff.

  “Mom, don’t cry. I’m fine. A few more weeks and I’m out of here. I’m coming home. I’m going to UG, so you’ll see me all the time.”

  “I feel terrible.”

  “Don’t. This is why I didn’t tell you. There’s no reason to feel guilty. He doesn’t, I’m sure.”

  “He does. I know he does.”

  “I think we’re talking about two totally different people.”

  She sniffs again, cursing under her breath. “Damnit, Roman.”

  “Mom, send me your info, okay?”

  “No. What kind of mother would that make me? Me and Timothy are doing just fine. We’re thinking about buying a house on the lake.”

  “Well, now you can have it—Roman’s treat. And then you can go to Mexico and celebrate with a margarita in hand. We’ve never taken a vacation. Promise me you will. Promise me. And promise me when you get back, you’ll see about talking to someone.”

  “Cecelia—”

  “This isn’t up for debate, Mom.”

  “Jesus, bossy. What’s gotten into you?”

  “One too many,” I reply, knowing she’ll understand.

  “Talk to me.”

  “I’m not ready, okay? And I don’t think you would believe it if I told you. I’ll be next in line if your shrink’s any good.” I stand and open the curtain to my hotel room and get a clear view of my father’s building across the street. My father owns a skyscraper, and Mom and I ate mac and cheese with hot dogs cut up in them to make it through to her next payday. She’ll never have to do that again unless she’s feeling nostalgic or gets high. That knowledge alone is worth every trial I’ve gone through this year.

  “Please, Mom. Please let me do this for you.”

  “I can’t, Cecelia. I’m sorry. It feels wrong. It is wrong.”

  “It’s not.”

  “I’m hugging you so tight, kid.”

  “Mom, wait—”

  “I love you.”

  I sigh, deciding to fight her on this another day. Technically, I don’t even have the money yet. But I will win this battle. “Love you too.”

  I take another nip of whiskey and lay back on the bed. A different bed in a different world where I don’t masturbate to thoughts of the boogeyman. A world where things aren’t so complicated, where I’m free to do as I please.

  And suddenly freedom doesn’t seem so appealing.

  I don’t sleep at all.

  My father joins me in the conference room where I’ve been waiting for nearly an hour before he takes the seat next to me. I sip my water, feeling his eyes on me as I stare down at the stack of papers on the table, still unable to grasp the enormity of what he’s giving me fully. “How are you, Cecelia?”

  “Fine, Sir,” I reply, straightening my posture in my seat.

  “How is the plant? Better with the improvements?”

  “It’s good, Sir.”

  “Did the lawyer brief you on what you’ll be signing for today? Do you understand—”

  “Yes, Sir.” I fight the urge to thank him, but I never asked for it. When I finally lift my eyes to his, I see he’s regarding me carefully.

  The last time I saw him, I’d snubbed him, too pre-occupied with the men in my life, and too resentful to take him up on whatever he was offering that day. The conversation with my mother had me thinking all night of ways to try and approach this, but I decide to go with brutal honesty.

  It’s now or never.

  “Please help me understand this.”

  “Understand what?”

  “You,” I reply simply. “Why do this?”

  He drops his gaze to the paperwork. “I told you why.”

  “So, this is a payoff? Because you didn’t want to raise me?”

  His flinch is barely visible, but I don’t miss it. “This ensures you’ll be financially secure for the rest of your life and, if managed properly, beyond the lives of your children.”

  “Why care about them if you don’t care about your own child?”

  His eyes soften, but there’s a hard edge to his voice when he speaks. “I’ve explained this to you.”

  “No, you haven’t. You said your parents were WASPs and drunks and squandered their fortune and that you weren’t raised in a loving environment. But I’m not asking for a hug, Roman. I want to know why.”

  He bristles but gives me nothing else, and I have half a mind to stand and leave him with his filthy fucking fortune, but it’s my mother’s terrifying blank stare that keeps me sitting here, ready to collect. She’s in a good place now, but what if she goes back to where she was? Though it would be the ultimate fuck you to deny his fortune and walk away, I can’t. I can’t do it.

  “I’m sorry I failed you, Cecelia.”

  “That’s twice now you’ve admitted you’ve failed me, and once you admitted you tried to love my mother, love me. But those are apologies and excuses without real explanations. I’m sorry I failed you is not an explanation, and I’ve heard that quite a bit recently.”

  “Maybe it’s the company you keep.”

  Insinuation clear in his tone, I look over to him. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “Are you still parading around town with misfits in old muscle cars?”

  “You’ll be happy to know that I’ve upgraded. This one drives a sedan, but he, too, is temporary. The men in my life don’t have a tendency to stick around long,” I snark. “I’m sure you know how that is. I’ve heard emotional attachments are bad for business.”

  “They usually are, yes.”

  It’s there, staring at my father in a boardroom f
it for twenty that I have a moment of absolute clarity. I no longer have to figure out what I’m going to do with the rest of my life. I see it clearly as I gaze on at him, my purpose, my future, and it starts in this room.

  “Well then, let’s just put this personal crap in its respective place for the moment, and get down to business, shall we?”

  Roman doesn’t hesitate as he stands and opens the door for his waiting staff.

  Just short of an hour later, I’m a multi-millionaire.

  The minute the door closes behind the team Roman stands up with a ready excuse. “I have a meeting.”

  “I’m sure you do, but I’ll just need a minute more of your time.” I stand and face him, splaying my hands on the table. “I want you to be the first to know. I’ll be taking care of my mother financially from here on out.”

  He doesn’t so much as cringe with my confession, which is so far from what I expected.

  “I have no issue with that. It’s your money, do what you will with it.”

  It was my only punch to throw, and he’s robbed me of it. It’s all I can do to keep my mouth closed. “What in the hell do you mean you have no issue with that?”

  “Exactly what I said, Cecelia. I wish your mother well. Will you still be attending UG?”

  I grit my teeth. “That’s my plan.”

  “I’ll see to it that your expenses are covered. I’ll have my assistant find you an apartment off-campus.”

  “You just gave me millions of dollars and a thirty percent stake in your company. I’m sure I can manage to pay for tuition on my own.”

  “It’s my privilege as your father to see that your school is paid for.”

  “You haven’t earned the privilege of calling yourself my father,” I snap, unable to hold my anger back any longer.

  “I see. I really should get—”

  “Nice doing business with you, Sir,” I dismiss him and turn to gather my purse.

  Roman opens the door briefly and then closes it before taking strides over to me. He stops a foot away, commanding my attention. He assesses me with a cool expression that I’m sure intimidates the hell out of any opposition, but I refuse to back down. But it’s in his eyes, my eyes, I see a hint of regret. I swallow the lump in my throat as a burn threatens behind my eyes.