Kate
The house wasquiet for the first time in hours.
My house.
I still couldn’t quite fathom that. I was still waiting for someone to come along and rip it all away from me.
My veins were swimming with nerves and unease, even though I was in a beautiful, peaceful place. Cicadas and birds sang in tandem as the sun crept toward the horizon. The breeze made the curtains dance in toward me.
I was sitting on one of the comfortable chairs at the end of the bed, drinking a cup of chamomile tea.
There had been plenty of wine with all of the women today. They’d taken me back to Swiss’s room at the club, helped me pack up, then they took me to the motel room to gather the meager amount of belongings I’d left there. My wedding rings were still in their hiding place. I’d put them in my purse without looking at them for too long. My purse seemed much heavier with those inside them. I had a strong urge to hurl them out of the car window as we drove, desperate to be rid of anything connected to Preston, but I knew that wasn’t wise. Money was never something I’d had to worry about before. Now I had to be smart, plan for my future.
Caroline, Freya and Macy had hung out for a while, keeping me company when it was clear I was going to be alone. There was still no word from Swiss, and his absence was the elephant in the room.
Luckily, my phone rang, and it was Violet. The women took their leave, each blowing kisses at me as I greeted my daughter.
She was packing to leave for her trip with Jacques, who was apparently still in the picture. She sounded happy, ecstatically so, then she made a passing comment about not being able to get her father on the phone.
My throat had ached, and my heart spasmed as I croaked out some lie about him being busy, barely able to push the words off my tongue.
She hadn’t picked up on my panic and mentioned that I still sounded bad, chastising me for not taking better care of myself. Then she’d gone on a tirade about all of the natural remedies I should be using and how antibiotics were likely making me sicker.
I barely made it through the conversation and considered myself lucky my daughter went a thousand miles a minute when she was happy or enthusiastic, therefore too caught up to notice the change in her mother.
We’d hung up after promises from her to let me know when she got to the chateau and to call me on Thanksgiving. She finally hung up after telling me how excited she was to see me in a month.
A month.
I’d see my precious daughter in a month. The part of me that had been missing. The ache in my heart would be healed with her presence.
My bruises would be healed by then.
But that’s all that would’ve healed.
Her father may or may not be dead by then. If he wasn’t already. I’d have to craft a lie as to how it happened if he was. Even if he wasn’t, there was a swamp of reality to wade through.
That had caused me to spiral, hence the chamomile tea. Which did precisely nothing to quell my panic. I’d lit some incense Macy had placed on the dresser in the bedroom.
Although it smelled wonderful, that hadn’t done much either.
Nor had the long bath I’d taken in the claw-foot tub. At any other time, I would’ve been able to enjoy the luxurious bath products, the candles, the speaker that I hooked up to my phone to play spa sounds.
At any other time, it might’ve been bliss.
Even with my bruises, my injuries, my looming reality.
I just needed one thing to give me calm.
One man.
The one I hadn’t heard from or seen all day.
The one that might’ve chosen death and revenge over me.
My mind wandered to what he’d told me. About what he’d lost. It had lingered between us, that knowledge. It was a new ache inside of me. A profound sadness that he had to know such visceral pain. A kind of pain that time could not or would not heal. A kind of pain that had helped shape him into the man he was today, like water eroding a rock. The kind of man who needed pain, blood, violence and death to live. It helped me understand that. Even without this devastating knowledge, I would’ve accepted the darkest parts of him.
But knowing his trauma was a gift. A horrible one. But a gift nonetheless.