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It wasn’t going to work this time.
“Get out.”
“What?” Richard asked, looking at her in disbelief.
“Give me your key and get out,” she whispered, her lips trembling with emotion. “I can’t handle this anymore. I can’t handle you!” she snapped.
“You’re going to kick me out?” he whispered, sounding like he barely believed it, and almost like he might laugh.
“Yes! I’m kicking you out like I kicked your dad out! Now give me the damn key! You’re not welcome in this house until you get your act together!” she snapped.
“You can’t. You can’t do that. I’m your son!”
“You may have been my son once but I didn’t raise you to be like this! Whoever you are now is not my son!” she screamed.
He started to back toward the door, his eyebrows furrowed in anger. “I should have known this was coming. You’ve always been an uptight bitch,” he snapped, grabbing his keys and throwing them at her.
The keys it her in the chest and then fell to the floor. It didn’t faze her. She just stared at him, keeping her stance strong and steady. She could break once he was gone.
“This is your fault,” he whispered. “You never stood up to that dick until he hit you! You let him abuse us for years! I’m fucked up, and it’s your fault!” he snapped, turning toward the door.
He slammed it behind him and Marie heard the squeal of his tires as he sped off down the street. Her legs quivered and finally gave out as she sunk into her bed, whimpering softly as she brought here shaking hands to cover her face. Why did it have to be like this? Why couldn’t she just have a normal marriage and a normal family?
She drew in a deep breath and sat up, eyes focused straight ahead. There was no point in wondering why things happened the way they did. If she wasn’t happy with it then she needed to change it. She collected herself and stood up, going to the bathroom to take a long hot shower. She didn’t even bother picking the keys her son had thrown at her off the floor. They could stay there.
She took her time in the shower, allowing herself to come down from the fight. She didn’t want to be a mess when she went back to Mystique. She wanted to come off as strong and confident as the women she’d seen running around in sheer clothing.
After she got herself dolled up in a short black dress and bright lips, she took a breath and walked out her front door, making as silent promise to herself that her life from here on out would be about her. She wasn’t going to be unhappy for anyone else anymore.
This was her time to be happy and she wasn’t going to compromise it for anyone.
Chapter Fourteen
The drive to Mystique was longer than Marie would have liked it to be. Her hands shook and she fought back tears most of the way. Despite the fact that she’d made a promise to herself regarding her own happiness, she was struggling to actually enact that attitude. It was a lot easier said than done.
When she finally arrived, she was comforted by the sight of Marco, working on a batch of something she didn’t quite recognize, though she knew would be delicious. Marco seemed incapable of making anything that wasn’t delicious.
She stepped out of the car and glanced at the path that led around the bakery and to the massive warehouse. Marie decided against going straight back to the main building and instead, opted to walk inside the bakery, smiling at Marco.
Marie tucked some of her hair behind her ear and smiled at the tan man. He offered a smile in return and walked over to where she stood, putting his strong hands on the counter.
“How can I help you today?”
She smiled and chewed on her bottom lip, clearing her throat. “I’m having a bit of a rough day. What would you suggest?”
“A rough day, huh? Looking for some comfort food?” he asked with a smile as he ducked behind the counter.
Marie watched him to see when he was retrieving. When he stood back up he was holding a thick, heavy butter cake. Her mouth started watering just at the sight of it. It looked dense and sweet. It was everything she wanted right now. In fact, it looked like the cakes she used to make with her grandmother.
She reached out and took the cake, starting to fish some money from her wallet, but he just shook his head. “No. You enjoy it,” he said with a firm nod. “If you don’t tell, I won’t,” he said with a grin, echoing Rachel’s words.
She blushed, nodded, and took the piece of
cake and the fork her offered. As she settled into the chair at one of the small, round tables, she dug in and sighed softly. It was so damn good. A soft groan left her lips and Marco came around and set a cup of coffee down beside her.
“Is it good?” he asked with a smile.
“So good. I can’t even begin to describe it,” she murmured, taking another bite of the cake.
