Page 9 of Vengeful Reign

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Bullshit. You’re pushing me away. All damn dinner I noticed it. I have to work a lot, and I can’t help it, baby. I miss you, and instead of working on it, you want to shove me away.”

“Look. I’m not in the mood.” We’ve gotten close to doing the deed, but I can’t bring myself to want to sleep with him.

“Are you fucking someone else?” he barks, glaring at me.

“No, of course not.” I had a feeling he’d go there. Isn’t that the usual standby the second you don’t want to put out?

“Prove it.” Wow, that’s a bit excessive. A chill runs down my spine and then I stiffen up that motherfucker. How dare he. I’m not the one claiming to work overtime or out with the guys.

“Areyousleeping with someone else?”

He throws his head back like I slapped him. “Oh, I see what you’re doing. You’re trying to turn this around to get out of shit.”

“No, because the person who makes baseless accusations is usually the one having the affair.”

His expression softens, and he takes my hand. I try to pull it free, but he holds it tight. “My sweet Nora, I’m not cheating on you. I just want to see you more.”

“So why are you always working late?” I ask, testing that sudden calm.

“To make money. It’s not like I’m rolling in dough.” He keeps his voice calm, but his tone hardens. Something about it just feels like a lie.

“Look, I’m going to bed. I have to work in the morning, and I need to think about things.” I quickly pull my hand from his, yank the handle, and get out of his car. Turning around before closing the door, I give him a sweet smile and say, “Goodnight, Jeremy.”

“We’ll talk tomorrow, Nora. Get some sleep.”

I walk into the house without looking back. The dang jerk didn’t even bother to wait until I got inside before driving away. What a gentleman. I’m not having this argument with him, and I wouldn’t have even mentioned it tonight. We’ve both said enough, and I don’t want to make things worse. All I want to do is get out of these heels, undo this bra, and fall face first on my bed.

I unlock my door, step inside, and kick off my heels with a deep sigh. Sometimes it’s so nice to have this house for myself. Right before I turned eighteen, I left home and moved East, buying this home with my inheritance from my grandparents.

My beautiful little house makes me happy and peaceful. I can’t wait for the weekend to come and relax with a book. Smiling, I strip down and collapse on my bed, grateful that I don’t have to deal with any problems as a twenty-three-year-old. Tomorrow I’ll go into work, play with the kiddos, and give them all the love and attention I can before ending my relationship with Jeremy.

But for now, I’m just going to sleep.

****

My phone has been going off like crazy with an unknown number. No voicemails left, either; like that’s going to make me answer. It reeks of my parents or my brother. Nope, not taking their calls. Not a chance in hell. We’re not on speaking terms, and it’s the whole reason I changed my last name and moved far away from them. By lunchtime, I’ve turned the damn thing off. It isn’t like I have anyone I want to talk to anyway. The situation with Jeremy can be dealt with over the weekend.

“Nora, dear. There’s a woman to see you,” Sarah says, stepping into the playroom as quietly as possible, attempting not to disturb the kids at play. I’m a paraprofessional at an elementary school. We have several special education, or SPED, teachers, however, each child needs love and care, so we could always use more. Unfortunately, our hands are tied behind our backs. I love these little ones.

“Can you take over for me?” I had a play circle with three of the pre-school kiddos.

“Sure. She’s in the main office.” I stand up and leave the room after giving the kids each a brief hug and a promise to return.

When I walk into the office, I see someone who shocks me. Someone I haven’t seen in almost six years. Not since I moved out of Chicago. An icy chill shoots up my spine, and my trepidation about my parents’ calls flood my mind.

My mouth drops open in shock, and I wonder if she’s going to bring me bad news. “Julia, what are you doing here?” I ask, voice quaking.

“I know it’s been a long time. I didn’t think you’d recognize me,” she says with a half-hearted smile.

She’s always been kind to me. She’s the one who helped me run away all those years ago, even giving me access to my inheritance so I didn’t have to live on the streets. I thought I would have to leave that money behind. I’m not sure how she worked her magic, but the lawyer transferred the money while not letting my family know where I ran off to.

Whatever the reason she’s here, I owe the past five and a half plus years of freedom to her. I throw my arms around her, and she hugs me. “It’s so good to see you again. I can’t believe you’re here. What brings you to Philadelphia?” Then, I hear whimpering that turns into a whine. “Who do you have with you?”

“Can we speak in private?” she whispers, looking around the small administrative office as if someone’s watching.

“Yes. Come in here.” I lead her over to a conference room where she brings the little boy, who is skittish and doesn’t make eye contact. He’s too young and doesn’t look like her, so I doubt he’s her son, but he could be a relative.

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