Page 167 of Tarek

We all chuckle as we begin to play cards and enjoy the night.

* * *

PENNY

I am living a dream, and I never want to wake up. Tarek is taking care of me like no one else could.

Last month, I wanted Korean chicken from a chef I saw on tv. Tarek flew him in and had him make it fresh for me in our kitchen.

I love gummies, but Tarek is afraid of the dyes. So, he made gummies using real fruit that he had picked and dried.

Everything for my comfort is at my fingertips. I am trying not to sneeze or cough or moan. Because Tarek will appear in two seconds asking what’s wrong? Somedays I’m so tired I don’t want to go to the doctor.

He created a doctor’s office in the west wing of his house; the doctor now comes here. I told him walking is great for me. He bought me a little driving cart so I can drive from the bedroom to the next room. I have given up trying to fight him or our relationship. It’s just since I came back, he hasn’t said, “I love you,” as yet and that worries me.

Pregnancy has been a dream for me thus far. My belly is now starting to show. I decided that I don’t want to know my children’s gender till birth. Tarek agreed with me.

I hope I have a boy and a girl or two girls. I am so excited to bring them into this world. One thing no one tells you is how horny you become while pregnant. Every woman talks about the strange food cravings. No one talks about your dick cravings. My sex drive is on an all-time high. It’s hard to focus around Tarek because all I want to do is jump his bones.

Just thinking about it is making my insides throb.

“Pen?” Tarek knocks as he enters the bedroom.

I don’t know why he knocks when he enters a room that we are both sharing.

“Hi.” I give him a shy wave.

“How are you feeling?”

“Like I need your dick inside of me,” I state.

Tarek chuckles and says, “What about the baby?”

“What about the baby mother who needs some relief?” I add.

“Aww. We can’t have you feeling miserable. Show me where you need relief, baby.”

I grabbed his hand into my pjs and showed him exactly where I needed attention.

ChapterTwenty-One

Dereck

Forgiveness. The nerve of her asking for forgiveness. Every time I think about what Ilyana did, even after all these years it still feels like a fresh wound.

Shame is blazing in my body, it’s a charred reminder of a night I’ll never escape.

I could never tell Miranda. How could I? How do you tell the woman you love that your best friend- the person you both trusted- slipped a date-rape drug into your drink. How do I admit that in my drugged haze, I thought she was Miranda?

Just the thought of what happened that night. She took away everything from me with one vile action. She took my son; she took the only woman I ever loved. My happiness was swiped away from me. What did I have but to adapt? I made limoncello out of the bitterest lemon life could offer me. I took the money, power and the status- all of it. If I couldn’t have peace or love. I could have control.

My shame is my constant companion. I trusted Ilyana. We trusted her. Miranda, Ilyana and I, we were best friends. I never thought she would do that to me. It wasn’t jealousy or hate. No Ilyana’s soul was trapped in limbo unable to move forward. I never asked who put that idea in her head. She didn’t come up with this on her own.

Either way the damage was done. I was violated. A violated man- a shame no one talks about, one I carry alone. My memory is hazy and fragmented. The slurred shushing sound someone made. The feeling of my voice sounding so weak and fumbling, calling Miranda’s name telling her I love her. That I needed her. The next morning, I woke up and my world was split in two. I woke to bright yellow blood-stained sheets. Ilyana sleeping beside me, with blood on her thighs. She lay there naked and vulnerable like she was the victim. My stomach churned. I ran to the bathroom and vomited until my stomach was empty. She followed, wrapping herself in fake concern and compassion. Her light touch on my shoulder felt cold against my skin. She whispered in my ear what she wanted. What she demanded, and it was me. Or else.

Or Else. Those words would haunt me for the rest of my life. Or else she would destroy my life. Not just me, but my family, my legacy, everything I had left. She had me trapped. I should have told Miranda. Maybe she would have understood? Maybe she could have forgiven me and helped me out of this situation.

But I didn’t. I let shame and fear win. And so I made a vow. After I got married, I swore that I would never let myself be powerless again. Never again would anyone take my choices away. Never again would I be helpless. And yet that night still fucking owns me.

---