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All her fucking friends were in this fucking building.
No hospitals had her name signed in as an emergency. I reminded myself of that fact, and I stayed in that car, almost pissing into one of the water bottles from the gym. Fuck.
I’m in my car, surveying her as she walks home from work. It’s six, a long day for her. Walking isn’t an accurate description of what transpires.
Her spirits are low, and her eyes sunken. She wears a pretty black dress that hugs her beautiful body just the way I liked it. She holds a clutch in one hand and heels in the other. Where has she been all night? Did she meet up with somebody else? Was this outfit meant for me?
The despair on her pretty face, her pouty lips that are turned all the way down…
This isn’t a woman that had snuck out to meet somebody other than her fucking man.
She’s limping, and I don’t know why.
What did I miss? I lose myself in the thoughts of my mistakes. Why didn’t she show? Are we going too fast?
What will my men do without me at work? Måns hasn’t been back to his home ever since I left, and I saw the worry in his sister’s face this morning when she left for work. He must be busier than usual now that I’m officially out of the way.
Unexpectedly so, I hear a shy knock from the passenger’s window as I unbuckle my seatbelt.
Glancing up, I see my doe. She stares at the ground, and she’s not well. I don’t like that I’ve grown a conscience for once.
I unlock the doors, and she slips inside.
Ivy’s tiny next to me, and she jitters like a frantic woman. She hasn’t eaten. Not that I have either. At least, I have some weight to lose. Ivy doesn’t.
“You should go home,” she says, but it’s barely a whisper. It’s a croak at best. How can she go to work like this? It’s her job to be there for people, but she isn’t here for herself. She’s fading away, and I need to know what transpired.
“Why didn’t you show up, Ivy?” I ask.
She cackles, filling the car with an awful noise I never want to hear from her again. It sounds like she’s dying right next to me, and the thought of somebody I love dying messes with me. “Oh, now you care?”
“I’ve been here all day,” I remind her.
“I know. I feel it when you’re around,” she confesses, hiding her face from me. She’s pulled up her legs, hugging them close to her body.
“What happened?” I inquire.
“Remember when I freaked out in the Crack & Nut club?”
I nod, and although I’ve wanted to forget the event, it’s always there in the back of my mind. My vulnerable doe in my arms, asking for help. She let me take the pain away that night, and I’ll never forget it. We bonded. I have no idea what’s going on inside of her head right now, but if it has something to do with the anal sex club, I’ll burn them down.
Kamila can go on and lock me up in a punishment sex house for all I care.
“I drugged my mother, and then I started a relationship with her husband,” Ivy blurts out.
“Excuse me?”
“You heard me.”
“That’s not….” I cleared my throat. “Your mom’s in rehab because of an addiction. Your dad covered up the fact that you pushed her to take the drugs.”
She drops her arms to her side. “Of course, that’s all you know. You know things, but you don’t know everything. I’m sure you read about Hugh wanting to relocate to California?”
I nod. “He’s lived there for five years now, and he’s been fucking every wannabe Hollywood starlet he can find.”
“Well, that was supposed to be me,” she blurts out. “I was supposed to be his entertainment, his perfect trophy wife in a brand-new world. California was going to be our starting anew. We could get married there, away from the scrutiny of his cunty family.”
This is an unfortunate turn of events, and it makes me reconsider how I met my doe’s father the other day at Crack & Nut. If this is true, which it surely is… Fuck. Hugh Abbott wants Ivy back.
