by Steph Nuss
“Anyway, I was washing dishes that night when Trey’s dad came into the kitchen asking me for money. I waitressed full-time at a diner, and he was always asking for money for either alcohol or drugs. Since I started working, I’d been hiding money, in hopes of saving enough to get Trey and I out of the shithole we called home. So, I told him I didn’t have any extra to give him, which was the truth. I was planning on taking what I had and leaving with Trey the following day while his dad was out.
“But that night, his dad kept harassing me for the money. He even brought up how he knew I was hiding some, but that he didn’t know where. He ransacked the apartment looking for it. I tried to ignore him as I finished the dishes, but then he grabbed a knife and threatened to kill me if I didn’t tell him where the money was.”
“Did you tell him?” I asked.
“No,” she replied, wiping away a tear. “I worked my ass off for that money, money that I dropped out of high school for so we would have food to eat and a roof over our heads. I wasn’t giving him shit just so he could piss it away on booze or drugs.”
I held her tighter and encouraged her to continue. “What happened next?”
“He threw me up against the fridge and hit me. He called me names, slapped me around, but when I didn’t fess up, he took the knife and stabbed me in the stomach. Then he threatened to hurt Trey if I didn’t tell him where the money was. The second he brought up Trey, I lost it because I knew he’d hurt him if I didn’t do something. So, I kneed him in the groin and pushed him off me. The knife dropped out of his hand as he fell to the ground in pain, and then I grabbed it and put it right through his heart without even thinking about it. I felt nothing when I stabbed him. I just did it. I killed him.”
Holy shit. “Tessa …”
A tear streamed down her cheek as she continued. “It wasn’t until Trey came into the kitchen that I realized what I’d done, that I was bleeding, too. He helped me bandage the cut on my stomach and called 9-1-1. They didn’t charge me with anything because it was in self-defense, and we had neighbors who heard the whole ordeal. But I had to go through a counseling program to make sure I was fit to be a guardian for Trey. That’s where I met Elly. She was an intern for one of the counselors at the time.”
She exhaled a shaky breath and dried her face with her hands. “After that, I started carrying mace and a knife with me because they made me feel safe. I think that’s what scares me the most, the thought of being attacked again and knowing that I have the ability to do what I did. That I would do it all over again if it meant protecting the people I love and myself. I think that’s why I still hold on to it, because I’m afraid it’s going to happen again, and the other night, it started to. After my date hit me, it just took me right back to that night. I knew I wasn’t going to actually use the knife on him, but once I had it in my hand, I felt safer.
“Situations that remind me of that night usually trigger nightmares. I can still hear his threatening words and see the blood covering the kitchen floor. I can see myself in bloody clothes with the bruises he gave me. I remember Trey being so incredibly scared for me that he could barely dial the phone to call for help.”
All I could do was stare back at her in admiration and understanding. Now, I understood why she reacted the way she did the other night. This beautiful woman sitting next to me had lived in hell and fought her way out, and she thought it would make me think differently of her; how incredibly wrong she was. She was the strongest woman I knew, and if anything, hearing what she’s been through, what she did to survive, just made me fall deeper in love with her.
“Say something,” she urged anxiously, nudging my arm.
I moved her into my lap so she faced me and I asked, “Can I see the scar?”
Anger quickly masked the anxiety gracing her gorgeous features. “After everything I just told you, you want to see the scar he left me with?” she asked incredulously.
“Yes,” I said, pressing a chaste kiss to her lips. “I promise to say something clever then.”
She rolled her eyes and lifted her shirt up, pointing to the left side above her hipbone. I ran my finger over the inch-long linear scar that marred her pale flesh. I’d seen her in a bikini numerous times and never noticed this scar, so I leaned over and kissed it, showering it with the attention it deserved. “You probably hate this scar, don’t you?”
“Of course I hate it,” she muttered hastily. She tried to pull her shirt back down to cover it up, but I caught her hand and stopped her. “He gave it to me. It’s like I’m constantly carrying him around with me.”
“Have you ever admired it? Touched it and really looked at it?” I asked, gazing up at her.
“Why would I do that?” she questioned, furrowing her brows. “I just told you I hated it.”
The last thing I wanted to do was upset her, but if she didn’t know how to be proud of herself, I would show her. Taking one of her hands in mine, I slowly guided her finger over the raised skin on her stomach. “This scar is proof that you’re stronger than him. When you look at it, when you feel it, you should remember the strength you carry with you every day. Not everyone would’ve been able to do what you did to protect the people they love.”
“I know,” she stated, staring down at her stomach with me. “I’ve just hated him for so long, for everything he put us all through, that I’d look at it and feel like he was still harassing me. Sometimes I wish it never would’ve happened, but I know if it hadn’t, I wouldn’t be where I am today.”
“Exactly,” I said, caressing her cheek. “You fought your way out of a bad situation, and you should be proud of that. I know I am.”
“Thank you.” Her eyes connected with mine as she leaned into my palm and smiled, the cloud of worry dissipating from her gray irises. “Thank you for listening, for always being here for me, and for not running away from all of my baggage.”
“You made me fall in love with you by simply being yourself.” Cupping the back of her neck, I drew her in for another kiss. “Which means I’m going to love you along with all of your scars, even the ones I can’t see or touch.”
She leaned her forehead against mine and sighed. “The more you talk, the deeper I fall for you.”
“Good. My plan’s working,” I teased, smiling against her mouth. “Now, tell me about the party you’re planning for Carter and Elly’s baby. I know you’ve already thought of ideas. I want to hear them.”
“I can’t tell you!” she exclaimed, her body melting against mine as she wrapped her arms around my neck. “Telling you about my ideas won’t do them justice. You’ll have to come to the party to really experience them.”
“You’re not even going to tell me the gender of the baby?” I asked in disbelief.
“Nope,” she said, crushing her mouth against mine. “But I will spend the rest of the night making out with you. Will that do?”
“I suppose,” I said, feigning disappointment before slipping my tongue into her mouth.
Chapter Thirteen
Our dynamic quickly changed in regard to our living situation. We couldn’t keep our hands to ourselves anymore. We spent our nights sleeping together in one of our rooms. Any free time we had usually turned into a make-out session that grew more intense each time. We hadn’t had sex yet, which was perfectly fine since tonight was our first date. Justin had gotten us tickets to the ballet, so I skipped the gym after work and immediately came home to start getting ready. I’d never been to the ballet before, but I knew I wanted to stun him in the gray dress he wanted me to wear tonight.
Tonight, I wanted all of him.
So, I primped myself. I took a long shower, shaving everywhere and exfoliating my face. I spent extra time on my hair, blow-drying it and styling it in big, soft waves that hung over my shoulders. I rubbed my favorite lotion on my smooth skin, knowing the smell would drive him crazy. I even threw on my nicest set of lingerie: a matching black bra and thong. The gray cashmere dress he wanted me to wear was short, falling a fe
w inches above my knee, so black stockings were a must this evening, but I decided to forgo the garter belt. Sure, it looked sexy, but it was just another item he’d have to take off me later, canceling out its sex appeal.
I slipped into the dress and admired myself in the mirror. I understood why he loved this dress so much. The dark gray material hugged my slim figure, but was looser than some knit dresses with its material twisted down the center for a flattering, edgy look that ended in a small slit. The deep V in the front was so dramatic it showed off the minimal cleavage I had, and it scooped low in the back showing off more skin. Its long sleeves were perfect for winter though, and knowing he wanted me in this dress made me feel even more excited for our date.
The bruise from my assault had vanished over the week, so I thankfully didn’t need to spend any extra time covering it up with makeup; the last thing I wanted him to see when he looked at me tonight was a bruise another man gave me.
No, tonight, when he looked at me, I wanted him to know that I was his, that I took the time to look good for him and only him. That I was so grateful he was taking me some place I’d never been before for our first date. But most importantly, that I knew deep down in the very marrow of my bones that he would never lay an abusive finger on me or string together a verbal attack toward me.
With minutes to spare, I stepped into my black high-heeled booties and put in a pair of silver earrings. I grabbed my black pea coat and clutch and quietly made my way into the living room, where I found him ready to go. He hadn’t heard me come out of my room, so I took a moment to take in his gorgeous appearance. While I enjoyed the commando-in-sweats look he sported on a regular basis, he cleaned up nicely, which I appreciated just as much. He wore gray dress pants with a navy blazer over a light blue button-down that made his hazel-blue eyes pop against his naturally tan skin. His dirty blond hair was pulled back in its signature man bun, and his clean, aquatic cologne with a hint of musk lingered in the room as he paced back and forth nervously.
My heart swelled watching him move, knowing he was just as eager for tonight as I was. He checked his watch a couple of times and stopped to study my brother’s photographs as he walked by them. It was obvious he had no idea I was watching him because he rarely ever showed this much emotion. It was cute knowing he was nervous for our date, even though he had nothing to worry about.
“Looking good there, Jameson,” I called out as I stepped into the living room.
He turned toward my voice and smiled away his nerves, bringing out those drop-dead sexy dimples he masterfully owned. His eyes studied my body, leaving behind a warm trail of lust that made my body ache for his touch. “You look absolutely breathtaking.”
I twirled around for him and laughed. “You like?”
“I love,” he replied, pulling me closer. He wrapped his arms around my waist, settling them on the small of my back. “Are you ready for the ballet?”
“As ready as I’ll ever be,” I answered.
“Let’s get you into your coat.”
He grabbed the garment from my hands and helped me into it. With my back to him, I placed my arms in the sleeves and tied the belt around my waist. Reaching for his hand, I threaded my fingers through his and smiled up at him. “Don’t be nervous.”
“You saw me pacing?”
“I did.” I pressed a kiss to his cheek and then wiped away my lipstick stain. Cupping his face in my palm, I reassured him, brushing my fingers over his stubble. “You already have me. I’m not going anywhere.”
“It’s been a long time since I took a woman out on a date,” he admitted, shaking his head.
In all the years I’d known him, I had never heard of him going out on a date, so I already knew it’d been a long time for him.
“I just want you to have a good time.”
“I’m with you,” I stated, resting my head on his shoulder, “so I already know I’ll have a good time.”
He pulled me close and walked us to the door. “Okay, but don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
“Oh whatever,” I laughed, sauntering out of the apartment in front of him. I dragged him out by his lapels and whispered, “I wore the dress for you. If all else fails, you can score points for getting me out of it later.”
“I’m holding you to that,” he quipped, catching me around the waist.
He led us down to the street where a black town car idled at the curb instead of a cab, and I already knew this was going to be the best first date of my life.
***
After taking us through the Upper West Side, our driver finally stopped in front of the David H. Koch Theater at Lincoln Center, home to the New York City Ballet. Justin helped me out of the car and up the steps to the building with his hand resting at the small of my back. The building looked breathtaking at night with its steps and fountain illuminated. All the lights from inside were visible through the massive windows, making it that much more inviting, and I couldn’t wait to get inside.
“It’s beautiful,” I whispered.
“Just wait until you see the inside,” he said, opening the door for me.
I stepped in and continued to gawk at my surroundings while Justin dealt with the usher. The promenade was decorated in winter-themed decorations along with The Nutcracker propaganda. People wandered around the area dressed for the occasion. Some were still in their coats like us, some were already carrying around a glass of champagne and conversing with people they knew.
Justin grabbed my hand as well as my attention. “Time to show you off in your amazing dress. The coatroom’s this way.”
He led me over to the room and took my coat for me, handing it over to the attendant and slipping him a tip. I admired all the other women in their outfits and couldn’t help comparing myself to them. Apparently, the ballet wasn’t as big of an occasion to dress up for as I thought it was. There were women in pantsuits, while other women went all out in long, designer dresses. Then there were some dressed like me, in a simple dress perfect for any occasion.
I felt Justin’s hand on my lower back again and smiled up at him. “Now what?”
“Would you like a drink?” he asked, excitedly. “We still have some time before the performance starts.”
“Sure,” I said, clutching my purse in my hand.
As he led us over to the bar, I watched him acknowledge people he knew with a head nod and listened as he explained to me who they were. Most of them were people he knew from working at the college, but so far, none of them were too important for us to stop and chat with. Even as we walked through a sea of people, his attention never broke away from me. I could feel him touching me at all times, making me feel like the most important person in his eyes tonight.
He grabbed two glasses of champagne and handed one to me. I took a sip of the bubbly concoction and nodded. “It’s good.”
“It is,” he replied, tipping his glass back for a drink.
“Justin!”
Both of us turned at the sound of his name and found an older couple headed our way. The woman waved at Justin, dragging her husband along with her as she walked.
“Oh, God,” Justin laughed, shaking his head. “You’re in for a treat with these two.”
“Can’t wait,” I teased, snaking my arm inside his jacket and around his waist.
Finally, the couple caught up to us, and the guy immediately headed toward the bar and ordered two drinks.
“Justin Jameson,” the lady said excitedly. “I’m sorry to interrupt, but I just had to come over and meet your beautiful date! In all the years you’ve worked with Burg, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you bring a woman to anything!”
The more she talked, the more noticeable her Brooklyn accent became, making me like her even more for being loud and obnoxious at such a sophisticated event. She grabbed her husband, pulling him into the conversation, and turned to me wearing a big smile as she gave me a once-over. “Burg, isn’t she just gorgeous?”
Justin laughed and tightened his hold
on my waist. “Tessa, this here is Dr. Burgess Gustafson and his wife, Mitzi. Burg is one of the heads of the Psychology Department at NYU.”
“It’s nice to meet you both,” I offered politely, smiling back at them.
“Burg, Mitzi,” Justin stated, motioning to me. “I’d like you to meet my girlfriend, Tessa Wilder.”
“Girlfriend!?” Mitzi exclaimed, smacking Burg in the arm. “Did you hear that, Burg? One of your co-workers has a girlfriend, and you didn’t even tell me!”
“I didn’t know!” he declared, rolling his eyes at her. He flashed Justin and me a smile and shook his head. “She won’t shut up about this until something new and exciting happens to someone else we know.”
“What? I can’t be excited for him?” Mitzi quipped, glaring at her husband. “He’s a beautiful man! He shouldn’t be single for the rest of his life!”
“She’s right. He shouldn’t be,” I added, biting back my laughter. These two were hilarious with their back and forth jabs at one another. I loved how curious Mitzi came off, eager to know more about her husband’s co-workers and their love lives. A true romantic at heart. She seemed like one of those elderly women who grand-mothered everyone, always knowing what’s best for them. Even with her rounded waist and small stature, she appeared fashionable in her red pantsuit and pearls. Her white hair was styled to perfection with enough hairspray in it to ensure it didn’t stray.
“Don’t encourage her,” Burg said, before taking a sip of his amber-colored cocktail. He seemed more laid back than Mitzi. Sarcasm dripped from his words, showcasing a playful side to him that I instantly appreciated. Next to his wife, he looked good in a brown suit and tie, with his silver hair combed over in an attempt to hide any bald spots.
“Oh, don’t listen to him.” Mitzi waved him off and clinked her champagne glass against mine. “So, what do you do, Tessa?”
“I’m a receptionist at a clinic,” I answered, feeling inadequate just stating the words.
“And …” Justin added, rubbing my back for encouragement.
