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“Yeah? About what?” He watched me like I was his favorite movie and he couldn’t take his eyes from the screen. It was always like that—an intense, deep devotion.
“How happy I’ve been. And I hadn’t even realized.”
“That’s what happiness should be. So all pervasive that you’re steeped in it.”
“Never experienced this before in my life.”
“No, I haven’t either.” He leaned over and kissed my neck. “I wonder why.”
“Probably because our parents were psychopaths that tortured us?”
“Probably.” He kissed me again. “You almost ready to go?”
“I guess so. I wish we could stay longer.”
“I do too, but I’d like to get back soon.”
“Why the big rush?”
“I plan on using your body for my pleasure this evening, and I’d like to preview the night’s feasting before we go eat.”
“Do I get a say in that?”
“No, you do not.”
“Sounds good.”
He laughed. He looked happy and lighter than he had when everything started. His skin was sun-touched and golden, and his hair was a brighter shade of wheat. He sat up on an elbow, wearing short sleeves and designer jeans.
My prince. My husband. My rings glittered in the sunlight.
I reluctantly stood and rolled up my blanket. He rolled up his and we walked together, holding hands, along the empty, winding pathways.
Blackwoods was so beautiful. I didn’t appreciate it before. I was too busy being afraid and angry and scarred to look around at my little paradise. The architecture, the landscaping. It was heaven tucked away in a small Pennsylvania town.
I didn’t deserve it, but I’d enjoy it anyway.
He draped his arm over my shoulder and hugged me close. “How are you holding up?”
“You don’t have to keep asking.” We reached the end of the path and walked beneath a large iron archway. “I’m fine. It’s what I wanted.”
“Still, your dad’s dead. That’s got to be hard.”
“It’s not. Honestly, it’s really not. I’m happy he’s gone.” I leaned my head against his shoulder as we paused at the corner, waiting to cross.
Earlier that morning, I got a call from my mother. My father had been found in his cell, dead from stab wounds. Nobody knew how it happened. His cell had been locked. No guards saw anyone enter or exit. The security cameras had been disabled for twenty minutes—the exact amount of time it took for Dad to die.
Calvin made it happen. He promised he would, and he made good on his word.
I didn’t ask for details. I didn’t want to know how he’d found a contact in prison, or how he’d bribed the guards, or how much money exchanged hands. I didn’t want to know how many awful people were now moderately richer because of him.
All I cared about was that my father now rotted in Hell where he belonged.
My mother took it better than I expected. She sounded sad, a little numb, but not shattered. If this had happened sooner, it might’ve destroyed her. But she was stronger now. She might’ve felt some relief, though she tried to hide it.
She wouldn’t backslide into that mindless mess.
Especially not now that she had friends from her yoga studio and she met a guy online.
It was weird, my mom dating, but it was better than her moping around the house feeling miserable.
We headed across the street and into the building at the corner. I lived with Calvin in a massive three-bedroom, two-bathroom apartment with a balcony that overlooked campus. He hadn’t been kidding when he said he wanted to live right where the action was. The most popular student bar in the area was two doors down, and we could hear voices and music until late at night.
I loved it. I loved being in the middle of everything with him, even if we heard couples fighting at three in the morning. Not that it mattered. We were never asleep.
He kept me up late, using my body like he couldn’t get enough.
I took a shower while he made a phone call on the balcony. The warm water felt good and when I got out, I stood in front of the mirror and wiped the steam off with my towel. A stranger looked back, a pretty young girl with a smile on her face, a girl that didn’t have bags under her eyes, that didn’t look angry and sallow and afraid. There were the familiar scars, and they’d never fade—scars never did. But they didn’t define me anymore.
I was better. I was growing. And I had Calvin to thank for that.
Things weren’t perfect. He was dark and moody, but I weathered his anger like a storm, guiding him back to equilibrium. He treated me like I was his guiding star, and I was the only person in the world that could talk him down and make him see the light.
I pulled on clothes and found him sitting in the living room with a glass in his hand. He frowned at the wall, staring into space, slowing twirling the tumbler in his hand.
