“I know this marriage won’t be real,” I find myself saying instead of acknowledging the things he wants to change about me. “But I’m going to need you to be discreet when pursuing other women.”
“That goes without saying,” he says, a clenched look on his face.
Is he already trying to figure out in his head how he’s going to sneak around? Fear that he’ll get caught, forcing me to act a certain way when that news comes to light suddenly makes me reconsider the entire thing.
Would it be easier, more acceptable if he did get caught “cheating?” Could I then walk away with my pride and reputation intact? Surely no one would blame me for his indiscretions.
A man only goes looking for the things his wife doesn’t give him at home.
Another one of Charles’s sermons, another way to place all blame on women, a way to keep them subservient to their husband, a way to keep his wives pawing after him. Of course, it’s easy for him to say when he has a plethora of willing women under his own roof.
My skin crawls with disgust, the reminder that what Charles is doing back in California isn’t okay. He has twisted and destroyed the real teachings of the Bible to fit his perverse needs. I don’t know what’s real and what he has made up to convince so many people that through him is the only way into Heaven.
Nate is right. I have a lot of things I need to rework in my head, but that’s not going to happen today.
“Look at me,” he says, his forefinger applying even more pressure under my chin. “There won’t be other women.”
I swallow the lump in my throat. How this man is going to live in abstinence is beyond me. Unless he presumes—the lump reforms in my throat.
A little fear, spiced with a sprinkle of desperation, swarms around me, and I don’t know which emotion to focus on. Could he possibly be telling me that I’m the woman he’ll be with… like that?
If that’s the case, then why leave Knight Salvation in the first place? Have I only traded one cage for another, albeit a much better-looking cage than Charles Knight could ever hope to be?
“We need rules,” I say, stepping back when my body is telling me to run away and never look back.
Those whispers in my head, the ones telling me I have to do what’s best for my child, are the only things keeping me in this room. If those are his requirements, then it would be selfish of me to deny him. I’m asking a lot of him, and he’s going to expect something in return. It’s human nature. Men enjoy sex according to every article in the magazines I’ve been able to get my hands on, but it also says women enjoy sex as well. That was never my experience the three times Cory took me that way, but it wasn’t completely unbearable. I mean, I survived it, even if my heart still hasn’t recovered.
“Rules are good,” he says, also taking a step back. “I need you to tell me what you’re thinking.”
“Right now?”
“At all times. If this is going to work, I need you to be open and honest with me. If you want out, you have to promise to let me know. I won’t hold it against you or get angry, but I don’t ever want you to feel trapped like you felt in California.”
“I promise,” I vow, instantly knowing it’s another lie.
If he were in my head right now, swimming around in the jumbled mess there, he’d never agree to go through with this. He’d be more likely to have me committed to a mental health hospital, and considering shock therapy to get my head together.
“And your rules?” he asks.
“Never hit me.”
He jerks his head back like I’ve punched him.
“What?”
“Even when I do something you don’t like. Please don’t hit me.”
“I’d never. April, fuck.” He turns his back to me, his hand scraping roughly over the top of his head, making his hair an insane mess. “Is that what happens where you came from? The men hit the women?”
“Disobedience isn’t tolerated.”
“I—shit—” He turns back to face me, immediately closing the distance between us.
I lose my breath when he cups my jaw in both of his hands. “I will never hit you. I will never put my hands on you in anger. I’ll kill any man who even thinks about it, and that’s not just for you, for any man who thinks he has the right to treat a woman that way.”
Tears burn my eyes, but I’ve grown exhausted with how many times I’ve swiped a hand across my face to clear it of my liquid pain.
“April,” he whispers, his thumb catching the tears and pulling them away before they can flow down to my chin. “Oh, sweetheart. You have so much to learn.”