by Lisse Smith
So at the moment, all I was focusing on was forgetting he had mentioned it. Once I could manage that, then I would be OK.
I had a death grip on Lawrence’s hand under the table; I couldn’t bring myself to let go of him. For some strange reason, he helped to keep me grounded, helped keep the pain from growing to a point where I couldn’t function.
Adam gave Lawrence and Allan a fairly rough outline of the planning issues they were having with the development, mainly relating to height restrictions; and once he was finished, Sam and Abel took over with a much more detailed analysis. I sat quietly while they talked. Occasionally my gaze would flick to Lawrence, and he would squeeze my hand in comfort.
“I’ll be back in a sec,” I told Lawrence, after we had eaten; then I excused myself from the table. I didn’t really need to use the bathroom, but for some reason the dining room was making me feel extra claustrophobic this evening. I needed space, air.
I walked out into the hall where Frost and Charlie waited on either side of the door. Frost gave me a nod, and Charlie walked with me as I went slowly toward the back of the building where the bathrooms were located.
By the time I came out, I wasn’t feeling any better. I realized, a little too late, that I probably wasn’t as good as I claimed to be, and maybe coming back to work so soon wasn’t actually that good for my recovery. Working in the office seemed OK, but I was not sure I was up to the more personal affront of dinner company.
I felt anxious, suffocated, and scared; and I was sure, due to a large amount of therapy sessions over the last few years, that I could attribute a good part of that to the incident over New Year’s. I wasn’t stupid, just disturbed.
When we got back to the doors of the dining room, Charlie took up his position on the opposite side to Frost. I hesitated with my hand on the handle, then suddenly I knew I couldn’t do this. I dropped my arm and moved to stand on the other side of Charlie. I leaned my head back against the wall and closed my eyes, trying to calm my breathing to a more normal rate.
“Are you OK?” Charlie asked quietly from beside me.
I didn’t open my eyes to respond; that would have taken too much effort. “Yep.”
“You don’t look OK,” he countered, and I could hear the slight edge to his voice.
“I’ll be fine.”
“You say that a lot lately, and I was starting to believe you, but now I’m not so sure that I should.”
There wasn’t really anything I could say to that, so I kept my silence. I heard movement near the door, but I didn’t think it was Charlie; then I felt Lawrence’s presence. His hand cupped my cheek and his gentle voice called me. “Lilly.” I reluctantly opened my eyes and whatever he saw in them must have been clear enough, because he stepped back a pace, his fingers tracing a path down my face.
“Wait here,” he said, and disappeared back inside the room. He was gone for only a few minutes before he returned. He clasped my hand in his and guided me down the hall. I was forced to open my eyes or risk running into something.
Lawrence didn’t say anything to me the whole trip home, and Charlie and Frost remained silent in their attention on our safety. It seemed to take ages before Lawrence led me into his bedroom, our bedroom.
He sat me down on the edge of the bed then dropped down to squat in front of me. I tried to look anywhere but at him—the floor, his knees, my hands as they rested together in my lap.
“I have all night, Lilly,” he told me quietly.
“I don’t know what you want me to say.” I really didn’t know why he was looking at me like that, like he knew what I was feeling.
“Tell me what’s going through your mind right now.”
“What are you, a shrink?” I asked. I couldn’t keep a touch of sarcasm from my words.
“No.” He shook his head. “I’m your friend.”
He looked at me with his beautiful face, so calm and sure. “I’m thinking that you know me too well,” I finally admitted.
“I don’t know anywhere near enough about you.”
“You know more than most.”
“You don’t let people know you.”
“I can’t,” I said.
He nodded. “You do what you have to do to get through the day, and I respect that.”
“Some days are harder than others.”
“I can see that,” he said.
“Sometimes things jump up at me, and I can’t help how I react.”
“No one can tell you how to act or how to feel.”
I smiled quietly in sad amusement. “People have been telling me how I should be feeling and how I should be acting for a while now.”
“You don’t seem to listen to them that much,” he countered.
“They mean well.” I had to keep reminding myself of that fact each time the advice was offered.
“Most people do. But only you really know how you manage, and only you know how to react to a situation.”
“You don’t sound like my shrink now,” I told him. She was very sure about a specific way and routine that I should have been following to get through my issues.
Lawrence shrugged. “Who gives a shit what she thinks?”
That made me laugh. “She does.” I assured him. If only he had met her, he would have understood how amusing that comment was. My shrink, Dr. Phillippa McGregor, was in her early thirties and thought she had the answer to everything. It came directly out of a textbook, and I was sure she believed that deep down, every human was exactly the same person. If I looked deep enough, I should be able to find the emotion, the feeling she thought I should have. “I didn’t really like her that much.”
“I could imagine,” he said. I looked into his eyes and saw the sadness in them, something that I had no doubt was mirrored in my own eyes. “I don’t want to tell you how to feel, or how to act, or anything else. But what I do want you to do, if you can, is to try to be honest with me.”
“I don’t understand.” I didn’t remember any time when I’d outright lied to him.
“If you’re hurting, then please tell me.” He took my hands where they lay in my lap. “I don’t care why; I don’t care how; I just want to know.”
“Why?”
“Because I care for you, Lilly, and I hate to see you hurting.”
I guess he didn’t realize that I always hurt. “You can’t make the hurt go away,” I told him.
He nodded. “I know that, and I would never try to take something from you that was your own. But what I would like to do is just be there for you. If in some way, my sitting beside you helps take even a tiny bit of that pain away, then I want you to give me that opportunity.”
“I told you I was damaged.” I wasn’t sure that he could do what he offered, that it would help.
His fingers gripped mine harder. “I knew that before, and I still know that now. It doesn’t change anything. I still want you in my life.”
“You can’t live your life worried about me all the time.”
“I can do anything I want.” His voice held an edge of steel.
“No!” I nearly yelled it in his face. The anger rushed through me so suddenly I startled him. I pushed away from him and stood up, moving over to the windows on the other side of the room.
“You know, when it gets personal, you pull back,” Lawrence said. I could hear him moving around the room, but he didn’t come too near me.
“I know what I am,” I snapped back at him, then turned to face him, my body tight with emotion. “Don’t you think I wish I were different? Don’t you think I wish every day that I wasn’t who I am, that I wasn’t scared of everything?”
“You don’t have to be scared Lilly. I’ll protect you,” he said, but that only infuriated me more.
“You have no idea what you’re talking about!” I swore at him. “You know what scares me the most, Lawrence?” I wanted him to understand, but at the same time I couldn’t fathom how to really explain it.
“What?” he asked simply.
He looked confused. “I don’t understand.”
“I’m not afraid of who I am. I’m not afraid of people harming me or monsters in the dark. What scares me the most is the thought of waking up tomorrow and having to live my life another day.”
“You want to die?” I knew he was shocked.
“I want more than anything else to not be who I am.”
“And dying is your answer.”
“No.” He still didn’t understand. “No, Lawrence. Dying isn’t my answer, because that’s too easy. I am who I am, and I live with the pain of my life every day because that is what I deserve. I can’t kill myself, because I deserve what is happening to me.”
“No.” Lawrence walked toward me, but I backed up as he came closer. I couldn’t touch him right now. “You do not deserve this. No one deserves this, least of all you.” He spoke passionately.
“You don’t know what I deserve,” I reminded him.
“I know that you are an amazing person, a wonderful, beautiful, caring woman. You make this world a better place by being in it.”
“I’m not a good person, Lawrence.” I shook my head at him. “I’m not who you think I am, and I don’t believe for a moment that I make this world better.” When he continued to shake his head at me, I explained further. “When I woke up in that bed after I had been abducted, do you know what went through my head? I wasn’t frightened of the men who had taken me. I wasn’t frightened of what might have happened. What frightened me was what didn’t happen. I was so, so close to getting what I thought I wanted. I can’t kill myself, but that doesn’t mean that someone else can’t do it for me. It could have happened that night, I could have been killed, and what scared the shit out of me when I woke up was that I wasn’t dead.”
Lawrence looked astonished. “Your shrink is crap!” His words surprised me and allowed some of the anger to drain away.
“This is not funny.” I tried to hold onto the anger, but the half smile that played with his lips drained everything away from me.
“We need to get you a new therapist,” he told me, as he stepped closer.
“I don’t need therapy,” I retorted.
He grabbed my hands in his. “Lilly, honey.” He pulled me closer against him. “I don’t know anyone who needs therapy more than you. You need therapy to get over your last therapist.”
“I’m not a huge fan of shrinks,” I told him, feeling much calmer suddenly.
“I have a friend. He isn’t technically my shrink; I just go and talk to him sometimes, when things are difficult, and he listens. He’s very good at listening, and I really think you would like him.”
I gave him a skeptical look.
“Just try. Just meet him, and if you don’t like him, then I won’t ask again.”
“Maybe.” That was as much as I would allow at this point. I needed to think about it.
“You’re tired.” He dragged me over to the bed, but I needed to shower first.
“I need a shower,” I reminded him, and it was my turn to do the dragging. He came willingly, and we shared the shower.
TEXT: I might have had a breakdown to LM.
REED: Bad?
TEXT: Bad enough
REED: R U OK
TEXT: Strangely yes.
REED: What did he say.
TEXT: That I need to see a shrink
REED: Obviously!
TEXT: He has a friend that he wants me to talk to.
REED: What about ur Dr here.
TEXT: She is crap. I hate her.
REED: Thats a bit harsh
TEXT: Even Lawrence thinks shes crap
REED: He would know
TEXT: Do u think I should?
REED: See a therapist? Yes
TEXT: Maybe I will
REED: Maybe…
“Where are you going?” I asked him the next morning. Lawrence was standing beside me in gym pants and a zip-up sweater.
“We’re going running,” he corrected.
“Oh.” I wasn’t sure if I wanted to be excited or not. I so rarely got to run anymore, and the few times I had been able to find the time, I had to be content with a treadmill (there was a gym on the second floor of the offices, which I visited when I could fit it in).
“In Kensington Gardens,” he added with a grin.
“Really?” That had me shooting up in bed to stare at him in surprise. Running outside was one of my favorite things; it was what kept me so steady and my mind settled, but I hadn’t been able to do that for such a long time—obviously, considering my breakdown last night. “Really?”
“Yes, really. But not if you don’t get your ass out of bed and get ready.”
I wasn’t about to wait for him to change his mind. I jumped out of bed and scooted across the hall, totally naked, into my room and pulled on my running clothes. I was back out in the lounge five minutes later. Charlie and Frost were already waiting. Frost was dressed casually in jeans and a jacket, and Charlie was in his own gym clothes. I shot them both a grin before we all traipsed down to the car.
I was freezing, but I didn’t care. There was nothing that was going to take the joy out of this for me. I plugged my iPod in and cranked the music up as loud as I could handle, and with Lawrence and Charlie following—Frost waited by the main track—I started off around the path.
It was so easy to forget everything when I ran; the total freedom of the movement was exhilarating and liberating. I was positive I could attribute a big portion of my recovery from the pain of the accident years ago to this activity. When it got hard, all it took was a run to drain the emotion from my body and leave me at peace, or as peaceful as I was able to be.
Charlie and Lawrence didn’t intrude on my space while we ran. They kept pace just behind me, and I could easily forget that they were there. I ran for nearly an hour before I found myself running back toward Frost.
He was leaning casually against a large tree just off the main path, his gaze tracked me as I ran toward him. I raced the last hundred meters, and in an uncharacteristic display of emotion from him, at the last moment he held up his hand and I gave him a laughing high five as I jumped to a stop beside him.
I was still laughing when Lawrence tackled me from behind and swept me up and around in a wide arc. “Better?” he asked.
“Much.” I grinned him. “Thank you.” I wrapped my arms and legs around him and gave him a long, sweaty kiss.
“You’re very easy to please,” he said, when I came up for breath. “Most women want diamonds and champagne, but you; set you free in the park for an hour, and you’re anyone’s.”
I wiggled out of his arms. “Told you I wasn’t normal,” I reminded him and set off after Frost back toward the car.
“Don’t I know it!” His words echoed after me.
Even with the slight delay to our day that the run had caused, I still managed to get everything done. It’s amazing how much more energized I felt after a workout.
That evening, I was sitting on the end of the bed, totally naked, watching Lawrence get dressed while we continued an argument that we had been having for most of the day.
“You’re not coming,” he said, with what I was assuming was his best “last word” voice. He didn’t want me to come to the meeting that night, no doubt because of my reaction the previous evening. But I felt much calmer after my run, and I knew I would be fine.
I was ready…well, except for the fact that I wasn’t dressed, I was ready. I had my face and hair done, and the dress I intended to wear—a very short black dress with only one long sleeve—didn’t need a bra, so it would only take me a second to get dressed, but I was working on the theory that he couldn’t fight with me if I was naked. I was hoping to distract him with my body.
I stretched back on the covers and gave him my sultry look. “You can’t yell at me when I’m naked,” I assured him.
“Says who?” he asked, raising an eyebrow in surprise.
/> “It’s a rule.”
He grinned wickedly. “We should never fight then.”
I rose and crossed the room to where he stood. He wasn’t quite dressed; he had pants and a dress shirt on, but the buttons weren’t all done up yet, and his tie hung loosely around his neck, waiting to be tied.
He watched my progress with hungry eyes but didn’t touch me when I finally reached him. I grabbed one end of the tie and pulled, watching his face as the material pulled against his neck and finally came free into my hands. I slung it around my neck and he watched with fascination as I tied the knot around my own neck. When I finished I stood naked with just his tie knotted and falling down between my breasts.
“That is one of the sexist things that I’ve ever seen,” he mumbled with a shake of his head, the truth of his words clearly visible as it pushed against his pants.
“I am coming, Lawrence,” I told him, then I stepped closer. “I know my limits, and I’ll be fine.” He watched me, judging the few inches that separated us.
“You are a witch,” he grumbled, and I watched as his strength crumbled. A soft “oof” escaped me as he jerked my body up against his. “On one condition,” he added. “If you are having trouble, then you tell me as soon as you feel upset. Not after, not later, and don’t try and hide it. That’s the only way you’re coming.”
I shrugged. “Fine with me.”
“Now, give me back my tie before we are very late to dinner.”
Dinner that night was with a man I didn’t know. Simon Marshall was in his mid-fifties, professional, and had the token society bride who must have been all of twenty-five, if she was even that old. Hey, at least he had married this one; normally they just keep them on the side.
It took me less than five minutes to realize that Lawrence didn’t like him. I couldn’t quite put my finger on it; he seemed the ideal of a high-profile government official, but something about him was wrong, and Lawrence felt that as clearly as I did. Lucky for us both no one else would have been able to read either of us well enough to realize it, including Simon—and there was no possibility of his wife Jewell—yes, that was really her name—picking up on anything. She could barely form a coherent sentence, let alone anything else.
