Page 78 of Tangled Up In You
William went on to talk about how I’d insisted on keeping him a secret, but then he laid out all of our intimate details right there on the page—even going so far as to describe how rough I was in bed. He talked about our sex life without actually going into graphic detail, but the way he described it left little to the imagination.
At the bottom of the article was a picture he’d sneakily taken of us when I’d been kissing his neck. I had no idea when he’d taken it, but we were both shirtless and our messy hair and glistening skin was telling of what we’d been doing moments before the picture was taken.
I was embarrassed, appalled, and livid.
And knowing that Hunter had seen it?
I barely made it to the bathroom in time before I puked, which was more of a dry heave because all I had in my stomach was a little bit of coffee. Tears stung my eyes after I was done, and all I could think about was how upset Hunter must be after reading all of that crap—and after seeing that damn photo.
I couldn’t believe William had stooped so low and betrayed my trust like he had.
It all became too much.
A sob tore through my throat as the tears became impossible to hold back, and I started crying harder than I had in a long time. Not since Grandpa Bill had died. I stayed in a pathetic lump on the bathroom floor for minutes. Hours. I didn’t know. I’d tried to be strong for a while, but I didn’t have the energy for it right then.
Eventually, I pulled myself together and showered, hoping the steam from the hot water would help soothe the newly tensed muscles in my neck and shoulders.
I thought on how to go about this, wondering what would be the best course of action. Going on a talk show or something as outrageous as that was definitely not in the cards for me. I didn’t want all of that attention for something so personal.
Clean and with a newfound determination, I pulled on a pair of sweats before leaving the bathroom. I found my phone and dialed Jen’s number.
“I was beginning to worry about you,” she answered in a relieved tone. “You okay?”
“I think so,” I said, walking over to my balcony and peering outside. The clouds had rolled in and thunder rumbled in the distance. “I want to make a statement. Not anything huge or televised, but I want people to know my story. Not the bullshit William blabbed about in that article.”
“I’ll make some calls,” Jennifer said as rustling sounded on her end of the line.
We talked for another ten or so minutes as she filled me in on what she intended to do—agree to an exclusive interview with one of the big magazines that had reached out wanting one. Fight fire with fire. But unlike William’s fire that had been meant to destroy, mine would be purging the bad in hopes of starting over fresh.
Around four that afternoon, I called Hunter.
“Hello?” he answered, sounding anxious.
I felt bad for waiting so long to return his call, but I’d dreaded the conversation. I was afraid we’d get into a massive fight and I’d lose him. Again.
“Hey,” I said, holding the phone with one hand as I rubbed at the back of my neck with the other. “How was school?”
“Good. The week after Spring Break is always tough, because the kids aren’t ready to be back,” he responded with a light laugh. “So I went easy on them. Sort of. How are you?”
“It depends.”
“On what?” Hunter asked.
“On howyouare,” I said, battling the knots in my stomach. Fuck I couldn’t stand still, so I paced my living room. “Jen and I figured out our next step, so I’m still pissed but coping with it. But knowing you read that shit just kills me, Hunt. I swear, Will never meant anything to me. Seven years later, and it was stillyouthat had my heart. I never got over you, and I—”
“Cor,” Hunter interjected. “It’s okay. Really. The only thing that bothered me about reading that article was the fact that asshole took your private life and blasted it for the whole world to read. Iknowyou love me. And I trust you.”
I was surprised by his response.
When I first reacquainted with him back in January, he’d been so closed off from me. When I’d tried to get closer to him, he’d let his insecurity and jealousy get in the way. But once I’d broken through the walls of his doubt and showed him I wasn’t going anywhere, he put all of that aside.
“I can’t wait to come home to you,” I said, feeling truly content for the first time that morning.
Once I knew Hunter was okay, it was like a weight had been lifted off my shoulders.
“So you’re really moving here?”
I looked around my empty house: not one lacking materialistic items—I had a plethora of shit I didn’t need—but one lacking warmth and love. One that was missing that special someone to come home to, sleep beside every night, and wake up to each morning.
