I knew that I wasn’t normal, and my eyes filled with tears as I felt sorry that Evan was stuck with someone like me. I wouldn’t do the wild and crazy shit in bed that he wanted at times, not on my own anyway, and he’d force me when he wanted it bad enough.
No wonder he was gallivanting with Brooke Hunter.
I had driven him to it.
Finally, Evan collapsed on me, letting out a loud groan as his body completely relaxed on top of mine, but I couldn’t move from underneath him, his heaviness crushing me against the bed.
I felt nothing.
I was hollow.
A moment or so later, he finally propped up on his elbows as he stared down into my face.
“You’re getting better at this.” he murmured, caressing my cheek softly with his fingertip as he gazed into my eyes, deeply “I didn’t hurt you, did I?”
I shook my head, despite the terrible stinging in my vagina. He’d been so rough with me and even with the lubricant, it had been painful.
I fought the urge to scream as Evan’s hands roamed over me, his lips kissing the breasts he’d bared when he’d shoved my nightgown up over them, nibbling at my nipples, as if he thought that it was something that I would like.
“Maybe we can go for round two after breakfast.” He said huskily, as I remained quiet, just wanting him to get off of me already, and I faked a smile.
Last time he’d gotten angry, complaining that I was weird because I lay so still and quiet and I had cried afterward.
I hated being called weird.
He blamed me for our boring sex life, and for being frigid, pissed that I couldn’t even get wet when he’d done nothing but try to please me, according to him. In truth, Evan normally didn’t believe in foreplay, often thrusting into me before I was ready for him. Humping away on top of me until he finished, and then he’d roll over and go to sleep. Or worse, hold me in a vice grip while he got ready for the next round.
I shuddered as I hoped that he wouldn’t want to do it again.
True, my heart would race when he’d kiss me and hold me in his arms, and I wished that it could just stay like that. But the kisses and hugs had lessened recently, and he was spending more and more time away from home and coming home late from ‘the office’.
I wasn’t stupid, and even though I knew that he was fucking Brooke, I couldn’t blame him.
I could smell her on him when he’d stagger home in the middle of the night, the expensive perfume being the very one Brooke had been wearing at the party the evening before.
Recently, he’d started using the jelly and at least this time he wasn’t angry at me, but I knew that he felt that I was cold in bed. I felt ashamed every time we got intimate, and the pressure of trying to please him, sexually, was crippling.
I rolled over as he began using his iPhone and started checking some emails before he made a call to the office to tell them that he was going to be unavailable until one that afternoon.
“Forward all calls to my cell.” He was saying, as he stood in front of the picture window, completely naked, and he stared out into the rapidly graying skies. “I’ll be in later this afternoon.”
He tossed the phone down onto the bed as he headed out of the room.
“I’ll get us something to eat.” He grinned over his shoulder, sauntering away, as I tugged the sheets up over my breasts and sighed.
It was starting to rain, the large drops of water splattering against the windows, as he came back a moment later with some fresh fruit and the blueberry muffins I’d baked the day before, just to have in the house. My mother used to always bake goodies ‘just to have in the house’ and we’d come in from school to the most wonderful smells. Sometimes it was cinnamon and sugar, or chocolate, or some other mouthwatering aroma.
“Aren’t you fat enough as it is?” Evan had asked me, when he started to notice that I always had something sweet in the glass cake dome that I kept on the marble island in the kitchen.
But he never complained after he got used to my treats appearing weekly, and he’d often polish off whatever I’d had in there before I even got a chance to have any of it.
He smiled as he set down the tray and then went to the mini-fridge to get some orange juice. I usually bought fruit juices to keep in the mini-fridge in our bedroom, since we often had breakfast in bed. We also had a single-cup miniature coffee maker that sat on top of the mini fridge for the same reason.
“Green tea?” he asked, and I smiled at him and nodded as he made my tea. He made himself a cup of coffee next and we had breakfast. I was relieved when he decided to shower afterward instead of wanting more sex, as I hadn’t really been in the mood for it in the first place.
I started a load of laundry after my own shower, and then went through the inventory in my commercial-sized refrigerator to make a shopping list.
“Don’t forget, we’re going out tonight.” Evan reminded me as he opened the hall closet to get his umbrella. “I have a lunch meeting in twenty minutes, but I’m not going to eat much and spoil our dinner out. You should probably do the same.”
“I will.” I promised, as he pulled me to him to kiss my lips, tenderly. I watched him as he walked the short distance to the elevator and pressed the call button. He was smiling at me, his dark blue eyes bright as the doors opened and he went inside the car. The smile left my face the moment he disappeared from sight and I closed the front door.
Things went well for a couple of weeks, before they fell apart for the last time, ending my stay in New York City and turning my life upside-down.
Daphne
Friday evening I was late coming home.
Late-late.
I hadn’t told him that I was going anywhere, and my cell phone hadn’t rung in hours, which was unusual, but I knew I had to get dinner started and the house ready. It was well after six, and he was usually home just about this time. It was only then that I looked at my cell phone and saw that it was off.
“Idiot.” I muttered aloud, realizing that I’d forgotten to charge it again, pretty sure my phone had been dead for a while.
Please don’t let him be home, yet
Please don’t let him be home, yet
Please don’t let him be home, yet
Like a mantra, that sentence ran through my head, repeatedly, as I fumbled for my house keys. I hurried down the carpeted hallway to the door of apartment 23-E and quickly unlocked it. As I got inside, I listened for the sound of a television, radio, anything at all to indicate that Evan was at home.
I didn’t see him at first, but he suddenly sprang from the leather sofa, where he’d been lying in wait in the living room as I entered it, and I let out a shriek of surprise.
I pivoted and tried to run back towards the front door, but bolting past me, he got there first and slammed it shut, just as I had opened it, blocking it with his athletic body.
Evan held my stare as I backed away from him and he advanced towards me, closing the gap between us. I shuddered as I felt the wall up against my back, realizing that he had me trapped.
He put his large hands up on the wall directly on either side of me, causing me to flinch, as he leaned close to ask me his question in a dangerously quiet and calm tone.
“Where were you?”
It was a simple question, and I knew the answer, but I was so scared of him that I couldn’t even speak. My lips moved, but no sound came out. All I could see was his cold expression and unwavering glare as he repeated his question in a slow and deliberate tone, and this time I knew I’d better answer.
Apparently, I didn’t react fast enough and I saw the slap coming just before I felt it explode against my face, my cheek stinging from the blow as tears sprang to my eyes.
“Do I have your attention now? Huh? Where the fuck have you been?” he demanded, delivering another, harder, slap to make my nose bleed as I tried to explain my absence.
“I...I..” I faltered, before the tears came on full force and I started to cry.
“I�
�ve been calling you for over an hour! Do you know what I’ve been through, wondering where the hell you were? Why do you provoke me, Daphne?!” he snarled as I fought to stop crying, because it only enraged him when I did.
I sucked in my tears as we both took a moment to calm down, swiping at my bloody nose with the back of my hands, Evan’s broad chest heaving as his lips tightened.
“I had a doctor’s appointment.....” I finally said, quietly.
“A doctor’s appointment? Now what’s wrong with you?” he interrupted, as I told him that I hadn’t been feeling well lately. I still hadn’t said anything about the baby, because I didn’t know how he would take it. The morning sickness was pretty bad and I knew that I wasn’t going to be able to keep my secret much longer. As it was, my clothes were tight and I’d bought some things in slightly larger sizes to try and hide what was going on.
We’d never discussed children, but I had a feeling that Evan wasn’t going to be happy about this. He was very career-oriented, and he only cared about getting to the top. He didn’t have time to deal with a baby. And then there was me, driving him absolutely crazy, just by being myself.
Evan had me walking around on eggshells lately, and I kept messing up, despite knowing how quick his temper was.
“You’d better not get me sick, Daphne.” He threatened, shaking his head in annoyance, as he glared down at me. “I’m serious. I have to go to Chicago tomorrow and I don’t have time for you and your shit.”
We stared at each other for a long moment before I finally gathered up enough courage to speak.
“I can fix dinner, if you want...” I said, meekly, trying to appease him, as he continued to glare at me, his eyes so hard.
“You’re an idiot, just as stupid as they come. If you’re sick why the hell would I want you touching my food? Go on, get out of here. I can’t even look at you right now.” Evan snorted derisively, effectively dismissing me, as I slowly made my way to our bedroom. I went into the bathroom once I got there, and closed the door.
My entire cheek was red and there was some swelling around my nose. My wild hair was all over my head as my eye makeup ran in rivulets down my cheeks. I began to cry again as I stared back at myself in the mirror, realizing I was getting tired of going through this with him. I could see the angry fingerprints on my upper arms where he’d grabbed me, the bruise beginning to appear underneath my left eye from when he’d struck me. I tried to imagine life here, with him, once the baby came. Would becoming a father change him? What would happen the first time he lost patience with our child? I shuddered at the thought as tears streamed down my cheeks and I moaned softly as I began rocking myself.
I was trying to get myself together an hour later, when I heard a soft knock on the bathroom door just before it opened, and Evan came into the room wearing a sheepish expression as he hung his head.
“I’m an asshole.” He said, moving to press his muscular body up against my backside as his arms slid around me from behind, cupping me to him as his lips found the nape of my neck in a gentle kiss. “Daphne, you know how I get when you aren’t where I expect you to be and then you don’t call or answer your cell. Can you understand how worried I was?”
I didn’t say anything, but I felt my eyes welling up with tears. I didn’t say a word as he promised he would seek treatment when he returned from his trip. He admitted that he needed some help in controlling his temper.
I’m sorry, Daphne
It’ll never happen again, Daphne
I love you, Daphne
And on and on and on he went and then came the tears as he begged me to forgive him and he apologized profusely.
When he was in a great mood, I loved Evan more than anything. He was sweet and kind, thoughtful and loving. When he was in a bad mood, which seemed to be all the time now, I was frightened of him and of his hair-trigger reactions. Everything in Evan’s world was wrong, according to him and he’d try to convince me that everyone was against him, trying to keep him down.
I thought of our wedding coming up in April, right after my birthday on the twenty-third.
Over five hundred invitations had already been sent out, the reception hall’s non-refundable deposit secured, the honeymoon reservations in Hawaii booked, and my beautiful, custom-made, gown was hanging in the closet hidden from Evan’s view in its locked garment bag.
How could I call it all off now?
I blamed myself and no one else but myself for allowing this shit to go on for as long as it had.
“Forgive me?” he asked, kissing me as he pulled me against him in a crushing embrace. I sniffled as I pasted on a fake smile, and nodded. He left me alone then, and I was relieved that all was well, at least for the time-being.
I got into my nightgown and went to the kitchen to make a cup of tea. As I sat drinking it, I wondered how someone could change so drastically in such a short time. Evan hadn’t always been like this.
I had met Evan two years ago while working at an upscale restaurant back home and he’d come there for a business lunch with some clients.
He had flirted shamelessly, leaving me an insane tip. Of course, I wouldn’t accept it because it was far too generous. He had asked me out as he and his associates headed out of the restaurant, charming me to the point that I couldn’t say no if I’d wanted to.
It was on our first date a few nights after, that I learned Evan Mitchell was one of the top architects in a prestigious firm, whose main offices were in New York City.
I’d tried to tell myself that he couldn’t possibly be interested in me, even as his eyes had stayed glued to me the entire time we’d had dinner.
He was a major hunk and all of the females in the restaurant, and at the show he’d taken me to afterward, were throwing themselves at him like crazy. But Evan hadn’t paid any of them a lick of attention, having eyes only for me as he gently held my hand while we watched the performance.
We went for drinks afterward. I normally didn’t drink, but he’d ordered some fruity concoction that I ended up liking a lot. I had a couple of them, before my head started to spin and Evan took me home. I allowed him to kiss me at the front door of my parents’ house, with him promising to call me after making sure that I was safely inside.
After that, my cell phone was ringing constantly as Evan pursued and wooed me with a flurry of dinners, dancing, gifts and the dazzling nightlife. He didn’t move too fast, and he didn’t pressure me about sex at all, which was a plus in my book.
The one sore point about our relationship was Brent, my foster brother. I felt a stab of guilt as I thought of how long it’d been since I’d last spoken to him, over a year ago.
Brent and I had been best friends since we were both nine years old. He had been the one that had told Mom and Dad what had been going on with me, and that’s how they got involved.
My foster dad had been a family court lawyer, and he did everything he could to get me released to their care so that I could heal, grow and be nurtured in a stable environment.
We were thick as thieves, rarely fought, and were like two peas in a pod.
Brent and I had each other’s back, no matter what.
My best friend had always been overprotective of me, especially since kids were cruel despite knowing just how horrible my situation was. I’d hated going to school, and I had been unmercifully bullied for just about my entire academic career until I got to college.
Brent had gotten into plenty of fights and had gotten his ass kicked trying to defend me, more times than I could count, well into high school. But to everyone's surprise, Brent had suddenly grown taller and had filled out the summer before our junior year.
After a while, they realized that they’d have to deal with Brent if they messed with me, once he started doing the ass-kicking.
I had less problems then, and over time the other kids grew bored with me and I was left alone, finally free of the bullies that had tormented my everyday life at school.
I had come out of my shell
somewhat by senior year, and then started college while working at the restaurant. Guys hit on me all of the time, but I just ignored them and did my job. I didn’t really feel all that comfortable in male company, and had never even been on a date.
The job was fun. I got to meet lots of people, and I needed my paychecks to help offset the expense of college textbooks and other stuff. I hadn’t wanted to bother with men, period, sure that I was going to die an old-maid.
Then one day Evan walked into my life.
In all of this, during my whirlwind romance, Brent was the only one who hadn’t liked Evan on sight. The two just could not seem to be able to tolerate each other, at all. It was more than a little uncomfortable when the two were in the same room together, but thankfully it hadn’t happened too much before I’d moved away.
I tried to tell each of the men that they had the other pegged all wrong, but everything just fell on deaf ears on both sides. I hadn’t pushed it, but I wished that Evan and Brent would try and get along.
I was so relieved that Evan still wanted to bother with me, despite my history, that I didn’t know what to do. I knew that I wasn’t normal, compared to any of the other women he could have had, but yet he still hung around.
He had been respectful with his advances, just holding my hand as we’d go for long walks or have a quiet dinner at one of his fancy restaurants. We talked about everything under the sun during those dinners, growing closer as the weeks passed and Evan wanted to know my dreams for the future.
My feelings about marriage was a subject that he’d touched on, often, and I grew giddy hoping that he was going to propose. And when he did, five months into our relationship on a trip to Paris for the weekend, I’d cried with happiness as I told him that I wanted to be his wife.
Evan was smooth.
And I had fallen for it all, hook, line and sinker.
A few weeks after moving to New York City, and after the initial bliss of being with him wore off, little things about Evan began to bother me.
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