Page 3 of Shattered


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Chapter 2

Bethany

I had told the cab driver that I wanted a hotel in midtown, one that was close to the airport but far enough away from Noah that he might not feel like coming to find me, at least not right away. He will be too lazy, or possibly too wrapped up in Brittany’s arms to worry about where I got off to.

The thought makes me sick as I walk into the hotel, a nice one but maybe not five star. It is nice enough to have a concierge though, which I may need considering I have nothing with me other than this tight dress I am wearing and my credit card, tucked away in my bustier. I did it out of habit, and I am now so grateful for that. No way would I have been able to make it back home to get my things and back here before someone figured out I was gone. We lived just far enough away from the city for that.

The woman behind the counter has one of those fake grins plastered on her face, beautiful caramel skin, and bright pink lips. Her long nails tap absentmindedly against the desk, and I think of asking where she gets them done because they are flawless.

"Good evening, do you have a reservation?" she asks politely, and I shake my head. "Is it just you?"

I don’t think she means it to come out judgmental, but I am sensitive right now, and I feel like she is thinking how pathetic that must be when I just nod.

"Okay, let me see what I have." Her nails tap across the keyboard with precision, the noise echoing off the marble and granite embellishments in the warm-colored lobby.

"Okay, it looks like I can put you in 347. You got lucky. It’s one of only two singles left." I roll my eyes and hand my credit card to her, not wanting to delay any longer.

"Could I get the concierge to do a couple of things for me as well?" I ask, and she raises her eyebrow at me.

"It’s technically past his shift."

"Does he have a phone I can call? Money is no problem. I will pay him extra. I just really need this favor."

She gives me a curt nod and reaches under the desk to pull out a business card and slide it over to me along with the key. I feel relieved to be done with her as I take them both and head up to my room on the third floor.

The room smells like it was recently cleaned, which I guess is a good sign. The loneliness begins to set in. Not that it is all bad, but I realize that I am so used to being around him, or his staff, or our so called friends that I am nowhere near prepared for what it feels like to be alone in the silence of this well insulated hotel room.

I slide over to the bed, gathering the bottom of my dress up as I slip my heels off with a sigh. I reach for the phone and dial the number on the card, glad when the concierge actually picks up for me.

"Hi, I am a guest in 347. I know it's late, but I am willing to tip well for your services." That perks him up real quick, and I begin to rattle off the things I need— feminine supplies, my favorite soap, and some basic clothing so that I am not either naked or in this dress the whole time I am here, however long that will be.

There is still no game plan at all. I know I plan to do something. I am certainly not going on that trip with him. But can I do it? Can I truly break away from him? I know I will have to if there is no way to fix this, and I need the space to figure out if this is something that can be fixed. Would counseling do any good? Would he even go?

I am not sure because I realize the man I thought I knew I don’t know at all. I never would have thought him capable of this level of deceit especially with all the hard work he was supposed to be doing in order to get this DA position.

I guess he has only been working in the bedroom and into someone’s pants rather than on his career, and I have been a damn blind fool.

I don’t like how it feels to know that.

I sit back and pull out my phone, the only other possession to my name at the moment, and begin flipping randomly through Facebook. It’s the ultimate boredom killer, passing tons of time before you realize it. But as I scroll through my timeline, I see a lot of my old friends and colleagues from before I left home and everything behind, posting about their lives. All the interesting things I am no longer a part of.

I don’t know whether to smile at all the things they are doing and how happy they look or cry because I realize for the first time what I have given up to live this life that I have for two years now. I have been a wife, a trophy wife to be exact, for a year now, but I was his property long before that and didn’t even know. When he asked me to move, I didn’t hesitate. When he asked me to change any part of myself, I did as he had asked to keep him happy. I thought that was what love was. I don’t know why I was so broken and naive about it all.

I am about to stop beating myself up and get off of Facebook when I come across one of those memories it throws in your face. And this one is from before I met Noah. My hair is a different color, my body more boyish with a flatter chest and thinner lips. but I didn’t feel that way back then. I didn’t hate how I looked, and I wonder when that changed and why.

A knock sounds at my door and I get up to answer to, seeing that the concierge has come baring gifts. I thank him and sign off on that large tip I promised, seeing as he was fast and everything is here that I had asked for.

As soon as the door is shut again I strip down and slip on a tee and shorts he brought to me, brushing through my hair and letting it down. I am in relaxed mode, and it makes me feel tired all of a sudden. But it’s much earlier than I would usually go to sleep.

My mind drifts to the things and people I left behind, and my heart aches for someone specific; my best friend, Natasha. She has carried two of my god children inside of her, one of which I have never even seen up close. I was meant to be at his birth but wasn’t allowed to go. It should have been a red flag.

A lot of things should have been, but what use does it do right now to play that game. I know it’s unhealthy. That's what a professional would say. But easier said than done.

I pick up my phone and dial her number before I change my mind, hoping that she isn’t going to screen my calls or worse bitch at me for all this distance between us. The truth is, I really need her right now. I need her to remind me who I am and how strong I can be for myself. I need to remember what it was like to be me.

It rings four times, and I don’t think that I am going to catch her, but then she picks up, the cries of a small child in the background. "Hello?"

"Tasha?" I ask, forcing the tears out of my voice.

Source: www.allfreenovel.com
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