This night feels like a new beginning, but this time it’s on my terms and with someone who respects me and my needs. But I could just be seeing what I want to see so that the fantasy isn’t ruined. I barely know him, and we met at a fucking sex club. What am I doing? The panic in my mind starts to bleed out and seep into all the right crevices, feeding the doubt.
What the hell do I want? I want King, but I know without a doubt that my head isn’t in the right place. I need space, time to think everything through.
I feel King reach out and squeeze my hand, but I don’t look over at him. I don’t want to ruin the last moments I have with him. I feel betrayed by myself. I’m not ready for him—I don’t know if I’ll ever be—but I do know that if I spend any more time with this man, I will happily bend and contort until I am completely unrecognizable, and whoever I am, whoever I want to be, will be nothing but a memory again.
We pull up to our destination, on the edge of downtown. I look outside to realize we are at a private airport/heliport. Slowing to the building with wide-set glass doors, I can see the inside looks like some kind of waiting room. In the distance, I see three small jets and a couple of helicopters.
“What’s this?” I motion to the window for an explanation, I’m surprised and confused.
“Looks like an airport.” Leaning in, he starts kissing my neck.
“Stop being wry. Why are we here?” My mind is numb.
“Because I’m taking you away. Away from the world. Just you and me. I want you as mine, Drew,” he mumbles against my neck before he moves to the car door.
Pulling back, I look down to my purse and out to the window. I can hear him talking, but I can’t focus on the words.
“Hold tight, gorgeous. I’m going to check us in.”
I feel like I’m on a delay. What the hell is happening? I can’t even process this. I can’t just pick up and go with him. I am being wooed and romanced by this man, who has undoubtedly swept me off my goddamn feet from the minute we met. He’s like a life preserver while I was drowning, but I’ll pull him under. I can’t give him all of me, only a version I hope to become.
I’m still lost, from Nick…from me. That’s what happens when you forget to value yourself: you become overlooked, and the longer that lasts, the less likely you are to ever find your shine. But now King wants to put a spotlight on me, which will only highlight all the cracks. I don’t want him to see the weak spots.
I have to go.
Getting out of the car, I walk around the back as King bounds toward me with that gleaming smile. He looks like a man in love, but he can’t be in love with me. It’s just lust.
Holding up one hand to stop him and looking down at the ground, I can’t believe I’m about to throw away something I want so badly. “I can’t go away with you.” The quiver in my voice gives away my emotion.
“What are you talking about?” He steps back as if space and comprehension are intimately tied together. “Nervous flyer?” He doesn’t laugh.
I force myself to look him in the eyes, but as I do, I already see recognition. He understands I’m about to run. Like recognizes like. We are two in one, he and I.
“I mean exactly what I said. I can’t go—I have a job and a life.”
“Call in.” He crosses his arms, and I can see his jaw set. His posture is as immovable as his suggestion.
“No.”
“Choose us, Drew, trust us…” Something about what he says triggers my anger. I’ve spent far too long choosing to make myself second to another. I won’t ever do that again.
Throwing my hands up in the air, I begin to pace. “That’s right. Because my job is unimportant, right? Only your time matters. I’m just the armpiece—I can call in and just be at your beck and call all week…” Even I know that’s not him, but my brain is on overload and I hate myself, so I hate King too.
“I never said that. I’m not him. I thought I made my intentions clear. You know this,” he says, motioning between us. “This is something else. You can say whatever you want because I see that I scare the hell out of you. But baby, you know what? You scare the hell out of me too, but I believe enough for the both of us. You know I am nothing like that jackass Nick.”
God, please make him stop. I won’t be able to walk away.
“Oh, but you could be a cleverer version? What do you even know about me? I could be a horrible person…all you know is that you like to fuck me. How can that be anything more than what this is.” I don’t mean it, but words are coming out and I can’t stop, and judging by the look on his face, I’ve successfully pushed him far enough away.
“Is that what you think? You think I just like to fuck you? I told you things tonight I’ve never said aloud. I let myself want you, knowing I may not get you. I want for nothing.” King closes the distance I put between us with my pacing, looking down at me.
“Do you know what you’re doing Drew? Do you really know? Because I’ve never been more sure. It doesn’t matter that I just met you; it feels like I’ve spent lifetimes with you. I want to take everything, every damn piece of yourself you gave up and help you put them back together.” Cupping his hands around my face, he tilts it up to look directly into my eyes. “Because you may not see her, but I do…and I want to dedicate all my time to worshipping that woman.”
My cheek feels wet from my tears, and I can’t bear to stand and cry in front of him, so I push his hands away and turn to walk down the street the car drove down.
His voice cuts through the air. “I won’t make this easy for you, not when I know better…”
“I’m not the girl you think I am. I’m not that girl at all. I need time and you deserve someone who is sure.” I can’t turn around. I can’t see his reaction to my words because I’m a coward and I don’t think I could hold that image on my heart without it breaking in two.
I hear his steps coming toward me. I expect him to speak, but it’s not King’s voice that calls my attention. I turn toward the voice, and it’s attached to a man who is coming from the building with a clipboard in hand. My gaze follows him, guiding my body all the way to King.
“Mr. King, I’m sorry to interrupt, I have some paperwork for you to—”
“No.” King’s eyes are locked to mine, hard and impassive, never wavering.
“I apologize, but without a signature I’m unable to—”
“Show yourself inside, and don’t fucking make me repeat myself.” I look at the poor man, horrified at King’s behavior but also relieved to have him be told to leave.
The man nods in acknowledgment of his dismissal, turns, and leaves the way he came.
“You can’t treat people that way, King!” My words are met with his raised eyebrows. He doesn’t seem to agree.
“I’ll treat anyone however the hell I want. This”—his voice raises as he grabs his heart—“this is only for you. Fuck the rest of the world. Nobody gets this but you, don’t you understand, Drew?”
I can’t stop the tears if I wanted to. “It’s just lust… and the freedom of living in some fantasy for the last twenty-four hours.”
“Bullshit.”
I know.
“What do you want from me?” Crying, I wipe my eyes as he closes the distance, grabbing my hands and kissing the inside of my wrists.
“Choose me,” he whispers into them like he’s giving me his secret.
I could choose him; I could run away and probably fall deeper in love, but what happens in a month or two when life gets real and he starts to see all those cracks? Today he wants to fix me, but I swore I would never be another project again.
“I won’t choose you over myself. This whole thing ends bloody for both of us.”
He drops my hands, raking his hands through his hair, and turns back to the car.
“That’s just fear.”
It’s true.
“You’re right. I’m scared of losing myself again.”
I don’t trust myself.
He puts both hands on the
back window of the SUV, and his head hangs low between them. “You breathed life into me—how am I supposed to just let that go? All I want is to take care of you.”
His words urge the waiting panic to explode to the top. I throw my face to the sky, and my voice is a scream just as an engine roars. “I don’t want to be taken care of!” My hands are fisted so hard that they hurt as I release them. My breath is still fast, my eyes wide with the shock from my outburst, and I’m embarrassed. I have to get out of here. Away.
He isn’t Nick. But I’m still not me.
My feet start taking slow steps backward, retreating. If I stay a minute longer, I’d do anything to take that look out of those eyes, but maybe this is my penance for my sin. My sin being lust.
“Don’t, Drew.” His words aren’t demanding but a plea. “If you walk, I won’t chase you, and I won’t forgive you.” It’s his last effort to appeal to my heart.
“I can’t do this, Dominic. I can’t…” I don’t want to see his face. I don’t want to know the hurt I’ve caused him. I turn and run toward the street knowing I can grab a cab to take me home. The sound of shattered glass has me pick up the pace because I know he’s shattered the window of the car. I wave my arm frantically, and a yellow cab pulls to a stop. The door handle feels like an escape, so I thrust myself into the car.
“Where to, lady?”
“Anywhere. Just go…”
I’VE BEEN HOME FOR THREE days. Three days for my decision to walk away from Dominic to sink in. Three days to justify it and three days to regret it. I just wanted some time to feel…well, everything. I wanted to be clear. I went from being caught up in saving my relationship with Nick to feeling overwhelmed by Dominic. I just needed a breath. I don’t regret needing the time; I just wish I could have articulated what I needed better. Basically, I wish I hadn’t been so damn stubborn and just asked him to wait.
I walked into this home, front door adorned with what I think is a note full of regret from Nick, but I threw it away. There is nothing left to be said. We’ve used up all the hateful words, twisting them like knives in each other’s backs. I can’t do it anymore. My brand-new backbone is comfortable in my skin, and it stands far too tall for the likes of Nick. He is who he is, but he isn’t who I want. I deserve someone who loves me for who I am, not in spite of it.
I know if I stay with him, we’ll settle right back into our twisted trade: my self-respect for his ego. He always sees his control as help, but help can only be just that, when requested. I never asked for his guidance in what I should wear, drink, how loud I should laugh or how low to play down my job title when we hung out with his friends. I bent to all of it because it was a gradual process of degradation. It was asked with sweetness and cajoling when he played the lover but lobbed at me as a weapon when he played the victim.
Nick isn’t my soul mate or my prince. Forget all of that—I want my equal.
I want Dominic King. Now I just have to get my shit together and hope he still wants that too.
Nick’s been gone these few days on business, which has been a godsend. I’ve been able to pack and move all my belongings out and back into my old apartment. Keeping it was the best decision I ever made. Although, thinking back, it was also one of our biggest fights.
I look around the room, saddened by all the moments we wasted by our stupidity toward love, but now I’ve felt what’s it like to be caught up, tangled in another person. I can’t stay even if I tried, not when the promise of heaven was laid at my feet. What I thought was lust has transformed and nailed me right between the eyes. I know it isn’t love, but I also know it’s not just my body that aches from his absence.
Checking my watch again, I can feel my anxiety rear its ugly head. I’m hoping to get everything squared away before he comes back. I’d like to avoid seeing him. We haven’t spoken since the weekend, and he has to know this doesn’t all end with me barefoot in the kitchen. When I scanned the note left for me, before I stupidly threw it out, I saw he was coming back today, late afternoon.
Pacing the room, I check for anything I’ve overlooked. Nothing stands out, so I walk to my purse to grab my cell and type out a text to Gretchen.
Me: I’m dying a very slow death over here. Can a person actually sweat to death?
Gretchen: Yes. You need botox.
Me: No, I need a drink.
Gretchen: Why are you sweating?
Me: Nerves. I don’t want to see him but having the face to face is the only option.
Gretchen: Truth. You just have to rip the band-aid. He’s the asshole, he should do all the sweating.
Me: I just want this part to go smooth.
Gretchen: Then don’t tell him you’ve moved on to greener dick pastures.
Me: You have problems.
Gretchen: You want me to come over? I can be your hype man.
Me: No, but love you…shit that’s the door.
Shoving my cell back in my purse, I sit down and take a calming breath. The keys jingle in the lock as Nick opens it, pulling in his black carry-on. Stopping in the doorway, his head bobs back slightly, confusion marred on his face.
“Hey,” I say, seated on the couch.
“Why are you here?” His irritation is apparent. How can he go from love letter to hatred three days later?
“I know I’m bombarding you right as you get home, but we should talk. I figured it was better to hash this out in person. You don’t agree?” He takes a deep breath and continues into the house, heading straight to the bedroom.
“I’m going to change” is all he says as an acknowledgment to my words before leaving me alone. This is not starting out well.
Ten minutes later he comes out to join me in the living room, changed into basketball shorts and a T-shirt. Sitting in the chair across from me, he looks down at his hands. The silence is deafening. I had a whole big plan, but I didn’t plan on Nick being sad about this, if that’s what he is. I’m hoping we can end this and walk away without hard feelings. As I waited, my attitude shifted away from just friends to solid enemies, but his change in demeanor is definitely dampening my “fuck off” monologue.
After another few moments, I decide to speak to break the ice. “Look, Nick, I think we both felt this coming, but I never wanted to hurt you. We’ve both made mistakes—”
Cutting me off, he holds a hand up to stop me. “Did you even read my letter?”
Shit. I should have at least read it. I feel like a jerk, but I’m not going to lie. “No. I truly didn’t want to risk it being something vile. I just want to walk away amicably. We’ve said a lot of things I hope we can bury. I just hope you can understand.”
“You think I would make this hard on you?” His laugh throws me off guard. “Drew, if you want to leave, then get the fuck out already. I’m not sad, but I see someone thinks very highly of herself. That was one of the many reasons I’m done with you. If you read the letter, this wouldn’t be a surprise.” Turning his head, he relaxed back into his chair.
“Wow, okay…you’re done? You? Whatever. I’m sorry for giving you more credit than you’re due.” I stand, still hoping for a more reasonable answer.
Shrugging, he grabs the remote and turns the television on, effectively cutting off our conversation. I feel the fury, but it’s controlled by another feeling—a feeling of recognition. I see him for who he is. I’m onto what he’s doing, and for the first time in the year since we met, it won’t work. I won’t dive into insecurities and beg for him. He’s an asshole and not my problem anymore. The thought makes me smile until he speaks.
“If you are going to just stand there, then why don’t you make yourself useful? You always did give good head.”
Now I can be furious. I lunge forward and stick my finger right in his chest.
“Fuck you. You are such a pathetic piece of shit. Never speak to me. Never utter my goddamn name. I’m too good for your filthy low-class mouth.” My voice is sharp and purposeful, accentuating my fury and throwing my words like daggers. I
slap the remote from his hand and it ricochets off the floor, making a crack and causing Nick to jump, fear in his eyes. “You were lucky I gave you a year of my time, you prick. Stay the hell away from me for the rest of your wasted life.”
Turning on my heels, I walk straight out the door, but I don’t slam it shut. I leave it open so he can do it himself.
One Month Later
THIS DAY HAS BEEN HELL. Seems everyone decided to save up their stupidity and unleash it all at once. I’ve been putting out fires left and right, causing my mood to plummet. If I could fire everyone and just start again, I would. Even though I know it’s mostly my permanent shit mood that’s stinking up this office. I can’t remember a time in the last few months when I’ve been in a good mood.
Taking in a deep breath and closing my eyes, I try to drown out my nagging thoughts, but my phone buzzes, jump-starting my irritation all over again. What now?
“Ms. Matthews, you have Ms. Andrews on line one for you.”
“Put her through, Boyd,” My tone is clipped.
I hold while my assistant patches the call through, strumming my well-manicured fingernails on my desk.
“Hey, you,” my best friend’s voice singsongs from the receiver.
“Gretchen, what’s up?”
“Gretchen? So formal—and here I almost didn’t call for fear you would find a way to make me cry today.” Her sarcasm is ripe with humor.
“Oh Jesus. Kevin needs to pull his head out of his ass. If he didn’t make so many mistakes, I wouldn’t need to remind him of the long line of people that want his position. He’s too sensitive…”
Her laughter cuts off my rant. “Drew, you’re a tyrant, you know that? And furthermore…” Her words become tangled between laughs mixed with a snort or two.
“I can’t understand you through your tears of laughter. I’m so pleased my shit day is so entertaining, but I’m unamused.” Rolling my eyes, I try like hell to hold steadfast to my irritation, but her amusement finally makes me break and I join in. “You’re so irritating.” I wipe the tears that have filled my eyes from laughing so hard.
Truth: A Sinful Series, Book One Page 11
