Page 22 of Forgive Me For I Have Sinned

Not being able to keep myself from looking over once more, I feel his eyes on my skin like a burn from the sun on a hot day, even with his dark sunglasses. He pushes his sunglasses on his head, and his gray eyes meet mine. The woman notices and turns to see what has his attention.

"Do you know her?" she asks, her tone dripping with jealousy.

"Yes," I hear him answer her while he looks at my black dress, pantyhose, and black boots. He looks like a model on a magazine cover, and I look like Wednesday Adams with platinum hair.

"I've worked with you for over a year and never seen her before."

She must be his secretary, and she obviously is more than that, but as jealousy creeps in, I have learned that anger feels so much better. I turn and walk over to their table and watch her mouth open like a fish on a hook.

His bodyguard steps forward. The man is built like a brick house, and I stand on the tips of my boots to say softly in his ear, "I'll be just a minute." He looks at the palm of my hand when it lands on his hard chest, and I continue, "We fucked once, but it was messy. I promise to keep things clean this time." He turns to look at Alaric, but I don't wait.

I walk over to their table, ignoring the curious stares aimed my way. "Can I help you?" the woman asks mockingly.

I nervously roll my tongue on my bottom lip, noticing the copper tones in her hair from the sun and trying to figure out why he would find her appealing. Her blouse is unable to flatter her too-small breasts. You can tell she isn’t wearing a bra and her makeup is so heavily applied, it looks chalky because of the heat outside from the afternoon sun. "Who are you?" I ask, even though I already figured it out.

She glances at Alaric and places her cloth napkin on the table. "I'm his––Alaric's secretary." The way she says his first name and not his last––hyphenated name, tells me one thing: she's trying to stake a claim and wants me to know that she's fucking him. I'm not sure what my purpose of coming over here is: maybe the lecture on Romeo and Juliet got to me for some reason, or the fact that I will never know what love is truly like, let alone experience it from someone, and I'm a glutton for punishment.

"What can I do for you, Miss Devlin?" Alaric asks with formality.

I look at my short nails like I just had a manicure when I actually need one. "I came to say hi, of course. It would be rude if I walked by without greeting you and your…secretary." His phone rests on the white cloth over the table near his plate.

From the corner of my eye, I focus on the cloth napkin in her lap. She's probably hoping Alaric tells me to fuck off, or worse, that I'm interrupting their time together.

"I'm Sasha, by the way. It's good to meet one of Alaric's…friends," she says, but her eyes say it all. That I'm a threat because that is not what a typical secretary says when she is with her boss.

Her overfamiliarity with him is annoying. She is sitting out in the afternoon having lunch on a beautiful day with the one man I could see myself with when I was young and stupid and thought for one second that he could be the one person that would see me. Maybe save me from the hell I’m trapped in that wants to swallow me whole. I knew the moment I laid eyes on her that I would hate her for it.

I recognize when two people have been intimate. It's probably from personal experience or that my father fucks his own secretary regularly and isn't shy about it. My mother knows and turns a blind eye, pops the next pill to fall asleep, only to wake up, then boards a private plane to visit friends abroad for a brunch date.

A fake grin appears on my lips. I have mastered one for people who show an instant dislike for me. It's sort of an armor I have built, along with my crazy bitch attitude, to hide the way I truly feel inside, that I'm breaking and there isn't much left to ruin.

I have had sex many times and never had an orgasm that wasn't self-inflicted. There was one time I had wanted it more than anything, but it was awful, expecting it to be magical. I was expecting it to be the kind where you have butterflies in your stomach just thinking about it, but instead, it was a horror flick, like a scene that stood out the most when you experienced it the first time, like in the movie The Exorcist, and her head spins around. A memory best kept buried that you can't erase because your first time is something you will always remember. The other times I had sex were because it was what needed to be done, and for others. I had no choice, but they all shared the same result. They ended the same, in pain. The only way I have learned to deal with it is acting like it doesn't hurt––like my heart isn't broken into a million pieces or that my soul isn't mine.

My eyes land on Alaric's phone when it vibrates from an incoming message, and I notice she sent him a text. I grip the napkin she placed on the table, watch her mouth open and then close when I tell her, "I think you forgot to clean up your self-worth." I toss the napkin in her lap and tune out her audible gasp when I grab Alaric's phone, toss it in the bucket of champagne with melted ice water, and watch it float like a buoy.

His gray eyes flick up, and I could swear I saw his lips twitch. "It was nice seeing you again, Alaric," I say in a sultry tone, sliding my finger over his busted knuckles, wondering whose ass he kicked or killed, watching the scab turn white around the edges before I walk away, hearing Sasha's raised voice.

"You two have something going on?"

"No, she means nothing," he responds.

The words he uttered are the truth, even if I don't like them coming from him, but it is how he sees me, and nothing I do will change that. I act out to remind myself what I am, by hearing it from his lips. Because the next chapter of my life is the beginning of my sentence.

The rest of my afternoon is spent with Jess and Gia. I’m horrified at how much I envy them that they are in love with someone who can mend them and put them back together. I watch how carefree they are. The way they smile and laugh picking out clothes. How I have to lie and tell them I already have that collection when I don't have anything from this store in my closet. But to them or their husbands, they wouldn't question it. They all believe the lies I spill. The act. Sometimes I wonder how long I can keep it up until it all destroys me.

I am frightened for myself, but thankful for the pills Dr. Wick prescribed to help me get some sleep and not succumb to my dreams. I call them happy pills because it’s the only time, I don't feel pain. It’s the first time, besides the color of my eyes, that I have something in common with my mother. My internal life has become destitute because I revert to fumbling for a token of love from someone who never offers it.

CHAPTER 9

Veronica

"Thank you for stopping by…have a nice day."

I pick up my tips left on the table, stuffing them in the small pocket of my apron and hear the plastic tub land on the table for the third time tonight with a loud thud. A thud louder than necessary.

"Dorothy sat the next table down in your section. It looks like they are ready for you to take their order," Adam says in a tight voice.

He's still mad about the initiation party and what happened with Melody and me showing up with her. I don't think it has anything to do with Matt because why would it? Adam never responds to my texts or phone calls so I gave up hoping that with time, he would forget about it.

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