Page 101 of Love Notes & Lifelines
“Do not feel ashamed. The only one in the wrong in that situation is him.” I know men like that.
Vincent Delacroix was like that—manipulative and vicious to a maddening degree.
She lowers her jeans but keeps her panties on. I almost laugh when she tucks her bra into the shirt she was wearing, but when she turns to the bed, my laughter fizzles out. It’s time for healing, so I drop it—for now—while she climbs onto the bed as I instructed.
I do the same on the bed to her left. “Relax, Stella. Take deep breaths.”
A knock on the door ends my pep talk as masseuses enter the room. Moving in silence, they place foam rolls under our ankles.
Stella gasps and I snap my head toward her. Gretta uses gentle sweeping motions to ease her into the touch, but I can’t lower my face until her stiff muscles relax. I catch Gretta’s eye when she does. She nods toward her bruises—a silent acknowledgment that she’ll take good care of my girl.
We lie face down with the sounds of oil and moving hands as our soundtrack. They’re still working on our bodies twenty minutes later and I’m not expecting her to speak, but I press my upper body off the table when she does.
“I didn’t know he was married,” she says. Her words are slightly muffled from the circular pillow she’s resting her face in, and I lean toward her.
That’s when I follow a single tear that joins a puddle beneath her. I move quietly off the table, not caring that I’m being vulnerable in front of my employees. I hold my hand out to Jeffry and he fills it with oil that I rub together, then mouth, “Thank you. Go home.” Holding my hands in prayer formation, I silently bow my head to them as they exit.
It all happens in less than thirty seconds, and then we’re alone. I keep moving, waiting for her to continue. She’s so lost in her head that I don’t think she realizes they’ve exited the room. Or maybe she doesn’t care.
“He lied to me for years. He would twist things so much I thought I needed therapy, but he twisted that too and I never went. He made me believe I was going insane. Without my knowledge or my consent, he turned me into a monster.”
“Stella.” Even her name is almost impossible to say. My throat is too tight, and my mind too alive with all the ways I’ll ruin this bastard.
Her head snaps up and she blinks rapidly, bringing our surroundings into view.
“Shh. I sent them home. I’m here, Stella. I’m listening, and I’m not going anywhere.” I hold out my oiled-up hands. “May I?”
Fresh tears pool on her lashes, but she finally nods. It takes her three deep breaths before she wipes her tears and lowers her face again.
“We worked at a private school in Raleigh. A really expensive, exclusive school. He’s still the headmaster there.”
I file that information away to weaponize later and slowly run my palms down her back.
“My mom had the diagnosis for a while, but that day I’d learned she’d need more care than I could offer—soon. I was upset, but he said he couldn’t miss the faculty holiday party. I’d wanted to go, to get my mind off my grief, but by the time he’d left I had agreed I was being incredibly selfish, and that my time should be spent with her.”
I glide my fingertips down her spine and press my thumbs into her skin on either side, then scale back up one vertebra at a time, thankful that my hands have something to do other than punch something.
“My mom still had mostly good days then. She could even care for herself with help most of the time, but it’s been a rapid decline. That night she went to bed early and told me not to be silly. She wanted me to go to the party, to enjoy myself, and to spend time with Silas.”
She tucks a piece of hair behind her ear, then continues. “I’d met Lucía at a support group she ran at Mindful Moments and instantly felt a connection with her, so I called her to stay with my mom and I went. I didn’t even think twice about the cost, I just wanted to be someone else for a little while. I thought I was lucky because Lucía has been trained in both facilities care and as an in-home nurse.Lucky,can you believe that?”
She scoffs and it’s a harsh, choking sound, then she’s silent for a beat.
“Anyway, he wasn’t expecting me, and the whispers began as soon as I entered the ballroom.” She sniffles, and that one sound guts me more than I ever thought possible. “I was uncomfortable from all the attention, but I stupidly attributed it to my new dress. I felt like a princess.”
Her chuckle is heartbreaking.
“He caught sight of me when I was halfway across the room, and I’ll never forget how his mask slipped, or the woman who whispered in his ear. That’s when he flexed his hand and I saw the ring on his finger.”
Her body trembles beneath my touch as she attempts to hold in her silent sobs.
“I’m here, Stella. I don’t care what lies he told. I’m here.”
I don’t know if it’s my words or my touch that soothes the tremors, but she sucks in ragged breaths. It’s probably easier for her to tell this story without eye contact. She wears her cloak of shame close, but I will make sure she discards it like the shitstain who made her this way.
“I knew something was wrong, but I couldn’t make my feet move, and then everything happened so fast. All I remember is being surrounded by a group of men—coworkers I’d had coffee with—while he walked in a circle around me. Berating me. Asking if anyone needed a mistress because he had one he wasthrowing away. He laughed in my face when I held up the ring he’d given me.”
Her tone chills and her body tenses as she gets lost in the memory. “He told me I was a stupid girl who would never be wife material. He called me names and pointed out my flaws. All the things he’d said for years to make me believe I was losing my mind. He made me appear crazy to everyone there. And not one person stood up for me, not one person cared about the pain he was causing or the embarrassment I felt at being treated like dirt.”
