by Nikki Ash
“This fucking house is a mess.” He grips my hair harder then uses it to push me to the ground. I land on the toys, one of them digging into the swell of my back.
“Georgia just fell asleep for her nap. I was about to pick them up. You got home early.”
“What the fuck do you even do all day while I’m out making a living so you can live a cozy life of luxury? I took your poor ass out of the trailer park and this is how you act? By being a lazy ass all day!” Justin has never seen where I lived, but I made the mistake of telling him about my childhood. He ignored the parts of my parents loving me and focused on how poor we were, and he makes sure to throw it in my face every chance he gets.
He leans down, gripping my hair once again, pulling my head back to look at me then spits in my face. “Are you cheating on me? Is that why this house is a mess?” I shake my head no even though it’s obviously a rhetorical question. Several times a year Justin accuses me of cheating. It’s his guilt eating away at him from being the cheater. Maybe he thinks if he can catch me cheating as well, he’ll feel justified in his years of infidelity.
“Nobody will want your broken ass! You know that, right? You’re a woman and your body doesn’t even work properly. Maybe I should replace you with a woman who can actually get pregnant.” The comment would hurt if I didn’t know the truth.
“Let’s go to the room. I think I need to remind you who your husband is.” Pulling me by my mane, he drags me to the room, slamming the door behind us, reminding me exactly who my husband is, and the entire time the same mantra runs through my head: Soon Georgia and I will get out of here.
“Charlie…earth to Charlie.” I look away from the paintings to find Tristan staring at me. He takes a step toward me and I back up, my flashback still fresh in my mind. My back hits the framed picture, knocking it from the wall and sending it crashing to the ground, glass shattering around us.
“Oh my god! I’m so sorry.”
Tristan takes another step forward and I duck and flinch out of habit. If he didn’t already know I’m damaged goods, he sure as hell knows it now.
“Whoa! It’s okay. I’m just going to lift you up away from the glass. You have no shoes on.” He reaches down and picks me up just enough so my feet aren’t touching the ground then he sets me down on the carpet.
“Hey Lexi, why don’t you put the groceries away in the kitchen while I clean this up?” Tristan says, his eyes never moving from mine. I can’t even imagine all the scenarios he has running through his head. This man is the opposite of everything I am. He’s stable and put together, and he’s successfully protecting his daughter from the cruelties of the world. Does he realize by letting me into their lives, he’s putting her at risk?
Lexi grabs the bags and runs into the kitchen. Tristan looks back to make sure Lexi is gone before he says, “You thought I was going to hit you.” It’s not a question. He’s observant, smart, and shrewd. He’s onto me and I should speed this story up, tell him everything, so we can flip to the end of the book, and him and his daughter can move onto the next story. One where they get a happily ever after. Because that’s what they deserve, and there’s no story I’m a part of that will end in any way other than tragedy.
“I’ll clean up the glass.” I step to the left but Tristan blocks me in, shaking his head slowly.
“Don’t do that. Don’t run from me. I know we barely know each other but did you really think I was going to hit you over a picture falling off the wall?” His tone tells me he’s offended that I could think for even a second he’s capable of doing such a thing. And for most, that reaction makes sense. But when you’ve lived a life with a man who is capable of doing just that, the norm becomes all you know, and the reality is, that’s all I know.
Hot tears fill my lids, my vision becoming blurry, and I’m forced to blink in order to see in front of me.
“Jesus, Charlie.” Tristan’s strong arms come around my shoulders and he envelops me in a hug. My body stiffens at first but all too quickly I allow myself to relax in Tristan’s arms, enjoying a man’s touch that isn’t motivated by hate or spite or cruelty. Keeping my arms by my sides, not being able to hug him back, my head tilts down, landing on his hard chest as I close my eyes and bask in the safeness of this moment.
“Daddy! Charlie!” We separate as Lexi comes out of the kitchen, my head snapping back up.
“Don’t move, Lex. There’s still glass. Why don’t you guys go find a takeout place to order from and we’ll order in and have a movie night with our ice cream?”
“Yes!” Lexi squeals and then she grabs my hand and pulls me into the kitchen, opening the drawer filled with several dozen takeout menus.
We agree on Japanese, Lexi wanting shrimp tempura, and Tristan and I splitting a sushi boat. While we wait for the food to get here, Lexi insists on showing me her room.
“This is my easel.” She points to the wooden stand in the corner of her adorable room. Pinks and blues and yellows make up the color pallet. Her bedding is pink and blue polka dotted, her curtains yellow like the sunshine on a cloudless day. Her walls are covered with tons of her paintings and drawings, and her multicolored bins are filled with every type of drawing and coloring tool. It’s what I imagined my daughter’s room would look like had I been given the choice.
“This is the wall I drew a big tree on just like yours, just like the one I did at the library, but daddy made me erase it.”
I stifle a giggle when she rolls her eyes. Looking at her wall, I can see where she’s coming from. As a lover of art and a creator, her wall looks like one giant canvas. An idea comes to mind but I quickly shoot it down. This isn’t my daughter and it’s not my place. She has a father, one who knows what’s best for her.
“Ladies! Food is here!” Tristan yells and we head back out to the living room. When we get there, I notice he’s moved the coffee table out of the way and he’s placing all the food on a blanket, which is spread out across the living room floor.
“Yay!” Lexi cheers, “Indoor picnic!” She plops herself onto the floor and sits with her legs crisscrossed waiting patiently for her food. Tristan dishes out the food and we all eat while watching the movie Romona and Beezus. Half my focus is on the movie while the other half is on the two people I’m sitting here with—wishing this could be my life, wishing all those years ago I would have opened my eyes and stopped living in denial just a little sooner.
I’m not damaged enough to believe every man is an abuser. I grew up in a loving household. I know there are men who don’t hit or abuse. But it doesn’t stop me from wondering if what I see with Tristan is what I really get. Sure, he gave me attitude over my so-called job and got upset when I showed up late today, but both instances were due to him protecting his daughter—something Justin never did. This makes me think about the Justin I first met. I thought he was a good guy until I learned he wasn’t. Looking back, the signs were always there but I didn’t pay attention to them until I was in too deep. How do I know I’m not doing the same thing with Tristan? How do I know I’m not missing the signs?
I watch Tristan with all the patience in the world and wonder if it’s all an act. To an outsider, Georgia looked happy but she wasn’t. And for Tristan to trust me in his home, with him and his daughter, how good can his judgment be? He doesn’t even realize the kind of person he’s invited into his life. For the second time tonight, I consider telling him, but selfishly I want to stay here, in this moment. Once he finds out who I really am…what I’m capable of…what I’ve done…if he’s as good of a dad as he acts like, he won’t think twice before banishing me from their life.
Eventually we clean up the leftover food and trash, and move to the couch to finish the movie. Lexi lays between us, and at some point, she lays her head down on my thigh. I run my fingers through her hair, not paying attention to the movie but remembering the last time my daughter and I were in the same position.
“Mommy,” Georgia lays her head on my lap and flips her hair up across my
legs so I can play with it.
“Yes, baby girl?”
“I don’t like daddy being mean.”
My hands still for a beat before I continue running my fingers through her silky curls. I want to tell her she doesn’t have to worry because in a couple of weeks we’ll be gone. I have almost gotten all the pieces of the puzzle put together for Georgia and me to disappear but I can’t tell her that. She’s only three years old and if she lets it slip to her father, the consequences could be deadly.
As much as I wish we could leave now, I need to stick to my plan. The calendar says Justin will be gone for a few days leading up to Thanksgiving, and then we’re meeting the night before the holiday in Virginia, which means he won’t know we’re gone until we don’t show up at the airport in Virginia.
It also gives me a couple more weeks to gather a little more money and triple check the plans I’ve made. I’ve been taking small amounts from the safe for the past year and putting it into a safety deposit box I took out years ago after my parents passed away. With me being young and in college when my parents died, I didn’t want to keep the few pieces of jewelry my mom had put into a safety deposit box, in my dorm. So when I closed hers back in Georgia, I took another one out in my maiden name to keep it all safe.
Not wanting to touch the little bit of money left over after paying to have them buried, I left it all in there and luckily, I never mentioned it to Justin. It worked out in my favor because he has no way of knowing I have thousands of dollars hidden away.
I never imagined my life would come to this, but looking back I can see the red flags. The way Justin was jealous and possessive yet secretive. He wanted me to bare myself to him while he kept everything about himself clandestine. I heard rumors he was cheating on me, but whenever I confronted him, he would tell me the women were jealous. I was so desperate for companionship since my parents died, I lived with blinders on. How many times do we wish we can turn back time? If only life worked that way.
I look down at my daughter whose eyes are now closed, and scooping her up into my arms, I lay her down in her bed for a nap. “Don’t worry, baby girl, Mommy will get us out of here. Soon…very soon.”
“Where’d you go?” Tristan’s knuckles gently brush down my cheek. I look down at Lexi and she’s sleeping. I’m not sure where her mother is or what their relationship consists of, but she deserves more than I can give her. I never should’ve allowed this attachment to happen.
“I should probably get going.” He must be so sick of me ignoring his questions but he’s only known me for a minute. He doesn’t understand the simple questions he’s asking have such complicated answers. Answers that will inevitably change everything.
“Give me a minute. Let me put her to bed.”
He picks up Lexi and carries her to her room, and I start picking up the mess, moving the coffee table back to where it goes, and gathering up the empty bags of popcorn and other trash.
I’m in the kitchen, wiping down the counters when I feel Tristan come up behind me. His hands come down on top of mine, bringing my cleaning to a halt. His simple touch shouldn’t feel this good but it does.
I can feel his cool breath against my ear as he whispers, “You’re a guest here. It’s not your job to clean.”
I swallow thickly, confused as to how a simple touch—a single sentence—can bring out so many foreign emotions in me. My heart is racing, my head is foggy, and holy shit, between my legs is buzzing with the possibility of getting attention. It’s been almost a year since I’ve been this close to a man, and almost four years since I’ve actually wanted to be this close to a man. My brain is screaming abort while my vagina is screaming yes, please!
“It’s okay. It was a mess. I don’t mind.” I go for nonchalant but my words come out winded like I’ve just run a mile. Tristan’s hands go to my hips, spinning me around to face him so my back is against the cool, granite countertop, our fronts touching, and his face only inches from mine. I feel his knee part my thighs and my body gets far too excited. I have to stop myself from dry humping this man’s leg like a damn dog in heat. It would be far too easy to just rub my body up and down until I—
“I know you aren’t ready to open up to me yet, but when you are, I’ll be here. I saw it in your eyes from the moment I watched you talking to my daughter, the haunted look. I felt the sadness right here.” His hand moves to my heart, laying his palm flat against my chest.
I shake my head in a futile attempt to deny his accusations but he ignores me.
“My daughter is an excellent judge of character and she is smitten with you, which means you’re now a part of our lives. If you need a friend, someone to talk to, I’m here. Okay?”
I nod in understanding and he grants me a small smile. “Good. Now let’s watch a movie, one with actual adults in it. I can’t take you home because I can’t leave Lexi here, and I don’t want to wake her up. And before you say a word, even though it’s only a mile from me, you aren’t taking a taxi this late at night. Mason should be home later so I can have him watch Lexi while I take you home after the movie.”
Eight
Tristan
As my knee parted her legs, I felt her tighten around me. She wants me. But I’m not going to take her, at least not yet. A woman like Charlie would be too easy to get lost in. I need to know what she’s hiding. I need to find out what makes her eyes well up with tears, what makes her space out at any given moment. It’s obvious Charlie is broken, and fuck, if I don’t want to be the one who puts her back together.
The woman I first saw that night at Plush was only one layer of the woman standing in front of me right now. There’s no doubt in my mind, Charlie has several layers to her. She’s complicated, and god knows the amount of baggage she’s carrying, but none of that is going to stop me from slowly peeling back each layer of this woman until I get to the core.
Backing up, I let her walk past me as I follow her out to the living room. She walks over to the case where we keep the DVDs but pulls out a video game instead then puts it back. She pulls another one out and frowns.
“Looking for something in particular?”
“Mario Cart. I used to play it when I was younger.”
“That would be the Wii U. Those are PlayStation games. But you’re in luck, I have a Wii in the cabinet. I bought it for Lexi for Christmas but she never uses it.”
Charlie’s eyes light up in excitement. “How about you set it up and I’ll grab the Vodka I bought out of your truck?”
Chuckling, I agree, throwing her the keys. “Go for it. Nothing like some drunken Mario Cart.”
I get the gaming system set up while Charlie gets the liquor from my truck. She brings it to the kitchen and calls out, “Orange juice or lemonade?”
I reply with a “Don’t care” because I don’t. Liquor is liquor. I’m not a big drinker and I’m okay with really anything.
She comes back in with two screwdrivers and sets them down on the table. I notice her sweater has been removed and she’s only wearing a tank top which must have been underneath. Without the sweater covering her upper half, I’m able to see all the curves it was hiding. Her ample breasts are even more voluptuous than I thought. Her tight tank shows the outline of her soft tummy, which has ridden up slightly, revealing just a hint of skin.
I take the drink closest to me and guzzle down half the glass. She frowns and lifts hers up to take a small sip.
“You’re not an alcoholic, are you?” she asks hesitantly. I open my mouth to make a smart-ass comment but her eyes tell me she’s being serious.
“No, I barely drink.”
She eyes my half-empty glass, her brow going up.
“You took your sweater off,” I grunt and she looks at me confused. You and me both sweetheart.
“Okay,” she says slowly looking down at herself, completely unaware how damn hot she looks. “Ready to get your ass handed to you in Mario Cart?”
It’s the first time I’ve heard her come close to being
silly, but even as she says it, the words come out serious like it’s hard for her to joke around.
“You’re crazy! I’m a guy.”
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
“I’m a ten-year-old boy in a twenty-seven-year-old man’s body.” I shrug because it’s the truth, and any guy who tries to deny it is full of shit.
“So, you think because you’re a man-child you’ll beat me?” She looks at me incredulously.
“Pretty much.”
Her head tilts to the side slightly. “How much are you willing to bet on that?”
“What are we talking here?”
“If I win, you have to let me paint Lexi’s room.” Her bet confuses the hell out of me but I don’t ask questions right now. I’m more concerned with what I will get when I win.
“Okay. And if I win, you kiss me,” I blurt out and then wait for her reaction. It’ll tell me if the chemistry I felt in the kitchen is one-sided or if she wants me the same way I want her.
Her eyes practically pop out of her head, her brows lifting in shock. Her mouth twitches like she’s unsure whether to frown or smile but she quickly composes herself refusing to give anything more away.
“Fine,” is all she says.
I nod. Game on.
We sit down on the couch next to each other, close but not close enough to touch. I start the game and we pick out players. Most women would pick one of the more girly players like Toadette or the princess, but not Charlie, she picks ugly as fuck Bowser. I pick the toad and hit start.
Charlie leans forward, completely focused, and when the screen blinks start her character peels out. I press the button for the gas and my character follows hers, quickly catching up. With one eye on the screen and the other one on Charlie, I chuckle when her nose scrunches up and her eyes turn into nothing more than slits out of anger as my guy flings green turtle shells at hers. I’m not sure if she’s determined to win for the sake of winning or if she wants to ensure I don’t kiss her. I doubt painting my daughter’s room is that big of a deal.
