Page 33 of Truth
“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 THREEdays. 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.
