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My hair is up like he ordered, and I'm wearing dark denim jeans with a white tank, and red flats. I add another coat of mascara and rush out of my apartment. I pause briefly, looking over at Damian’s place, yearning to be with him instead.
I hurry for the elevator, which arrives quickly. Making my way to his car, I notice him typing on his phone, but as soon as I open the door, he puts it away. His bright smile doesn’t say much about his intentions. He can switch his mood like a chameleon, a master of disguise. I can name countless times where I foolishly thought I was safe from his rage-filled outbursts, then suddenly I’d be trapped under him with his hands wrapped around my throat or his fist punching my stomach.
Every time he’s around, I wonder what I ever saw in him. I long to go back in time and tell my stupidly infatuated self to run the hell away.
As I sit, he takes my hand in his and kisses the top of it, making my insides curdle like spoiled milk.
“You look absolutely stunning.”
Unease crawls through me and I shift uncomfortably in the seat. “Thanks.”
Is this some lame attempt at getting me to hate him less? Because nothing he does will ever change the past. He’s broken me, shattered my soul into so many tiny pieces, they’re lost to the wind. He’ll never find them.
“Where are we going?”
“Some buddies from work mentioned this southern type restaurant with good food. Figured we could try it.”
“Ok.” He takes my hand in his and places it on his thigh. I don’t dare move it, keeping it firmly in place as he drives us away.
After twenty long minutes, we arrive at a small, charming place in south Brooklyn. The rustic feel of the decor, from its wooden chairs to its tables adorned with light pink and ivory roses tied with a burlap string, makes it perfect for a casual date. We sit across from each other and a young, attractive man hands us our menus.Note to self: Don’t speak to any male waiters.
“So, I brought you here to discuss the way our relationship has been going.” My mouth starts to fly open, but I close it quickly.
“I realize my temper has gotten out of control and I’m not the kind of boyfriend you deserve. I want to change, baby, I really do. I decided to see a therapist starting tomorrow.”
I jerk my head back, a dazed look upon my face, unable to hide my emotions. “I already made an appointment. The doctor’s name is Robert Figueroa on West Twenty-Third.” This sounds nothing like him.What’s his angle? He has never taken responsibility for his actions. Never.
“I love you and I want a future for us, baby. It’s always been you for me,” he continues, as he takes a sip of his iced tea. That must be it, he’s afraid I won’t marry him. It makes perfect sense.
Our future flashes before me, a life worse than purgatory. I already see the bruises, the deep scars, my swollen belly holding in our child as he beats me, ignoring my desperate pleas to stop for the sake of our baby. No, I won’t bring a child into this. I would rather die first.
I must be strong, standing up for myself is all I have left. Being ruled by fear can’t be my default. Not anymore. I must stop letting him suffocate me. I have to fight.
“I’m glad you want to get help, I do, but that doesn’t erase anything you’ve done to me.” His jaw tightens as he scratches the back of his neck. “If you want to show me you’re trying to change then let me go. Without your threats.” My hands fidget under the table, while my stomach twists into tight knots of fear.
“Is that what you want? You want to leave me?” His brows squeeze together as if the questions pain him. Is he that delusional? This isn’t the first time I’ve told him I wanted to leave. I’ve done it twice before, even though I was terrified, but each time he threatened to out my secrets. Does he think I actually love him after everything he’s put me through? The love we once shared flew away with my soul. It’ll never come back.
Chin high, I fix him with a stare full of confidence and give him my truth. “Yes. I’m done, Ash. I’ve been done for a while.”
He pinches the bridge of his nose. “I can’t just let you go as though all these years meant nothing, Lilah. I want you to become my wife. I’m trying to change so I can be a good husband. Give me a chance. Please.” I knew he’d never set me free. This is a ruse, a way to seduce me into believing a fairy tale, which will never exist.
“Can you at least give me a month?” he pleads.
“And then you’ll let me go without a fight?”
He squeezes his eyes shut for a second. “Yes. I swear. But you’ll see I’ll be a better man.”
“Okay. I can give you a month. But if you hurt me in anyway, I’m done. Tell everyone you want. I no longer care.” Giving him this time is probably stupid, but if there’s even a small chance he can be helped, then it’s worth it. Not for him, but for any woman he may encounter after me. No one deserves to go through what I’ve been through.
If he decides to go public with the blackmail, I’ll manage the consequences. I’m strong, I convince myself, but knowing Damian will be by my side makes me braver.
“Thanks for hearing me out, babe.” He places his hand on the table, palm side up, asking for mine. “I promise I’ll be a new man. You matter so much to me.” I remain silent but give him my hand. Those same fingers that have hurt me countless times before, gently caress my skin. I derive no pleasure from the contact; his touch makes my skin crawl with thousands of tiny spiders.
The car ride back to my place is luckily quick. Just as I’m about to exit, he grabs my arm. His fingers dig into my skin, sending a chill deep into my bones. “I love you so much, baby.”
“Let go, Ash,” I spit out. And he does. “Hope therapy goes well tomorrow.” I get out and slam the door shut. I don’t know who this new girl is, but I love her.
Chapter 16
