I reach over with my fork and stab a boneless buffalo wing from the appetizer tray. I chew slowly as the smile on Abbi's face takes on an entirely different twist.
"You can't be serious? Are you going to deny that you're attracted to her? I've seen the two of you together and it's obvious to anyone, but the two of you, that chemistry is bubbling in the air." She leans forward and spears a piece of chicken with her fork.
I take a drink of my beer to wash mine down. "I don't know what you're talking about. Can we not enjoy our meal without you invading my personal life? There's a thing called boundaries ... respect them, Abbi." My tone comes out a little sharper than intended, but my sister shrugs it off as nothing more than a minor nuisance.
"She's a sweetheart, Will. Don't be mean to her because you're having trouble coping with this. Besides, it's good to see you smile again."
I give her a look that only a sibling could provoke. "You're meddling, aren't you? What have you said to her?"
Her cheeks instantly take on a pink hue as she raises her shoulder in dismissal.
I sigh, leaning back in my seat and taking a swig of my beer. "Some things just have to work themselves out. You can't make me be happy again. It takes time, and I'm just not there yet." I set my mug down and cast a questioning look her way. "Don't you think I want to feel that way again? I'm not happy being miserable all the time, Abbi. It's not a choice I make every day when I get out of bed in the morning. It. Just. Is. Nothing more. Nothing less. So let it go. I'll come around when I'm ready."
The corners of her mouth pinch as she fights to withhold her response, but eventually, she just gives in and lets it fly. "Bullshit. You can choose to be happy and let the past go. It is a choice, Will. Don't you see that? Don't you understand that by making that choice, you can allow yourself to be happy again?"
I shake my head and toss my napkin onto my plate, no longer willing to participate in this conversation. She's always pushing. And for once, I'd like her to leave it be.
I rise, shoving my chair away with the backs of my legs. I pull my wallet from my back pocket and pull out enough to cover the tab and tip, then toss it down onto the table.
Her eyes go wide. "You can't leave! The main course hasn't even arrived."
"I've lost my appetite." I grunt in response as I head around the table. Her arm flies out, her hand latching onto my bicep.
"Will, I'm sorry. Okay? I'm just trying to help you, but all I ever seem to do is piss you off more than you already are. Sit down." She gestures to my vacant chair. "I'll back off." She pats her chest and looks at me in earnest. "I promise. Just sit back down and we'll enjoy our dinner."
I've never been able to stay angry with my sister. Even though she's the eldest, I've always felt the need to look out for her happiness. And that means I can't be the reason she's unhappy, no matter how much it chafes.
Reluctantly, I sit back down.
"Now, tell me about work? How's the new office coming along?" she asks then takes another bite of her chicken.
Kara
"Mr. Price will see you now."
I rise from the soft leather chair and follow the receptionist to his office. The four walls are solid glass and completely see-through, leaving the door closing behind me a false sense of privacy.
Mr. Price is an older man, probably in his mid-sixties, but very highly recommended. I know because I've researched him thoroughly on the internet. He specializes in difficult divorces. Namely, women seeking divorces from abusive husbands. Most of the money from my initial payments have been set aside to afford his representation. I couldn't take a chance with a cheap lawyer. I needed this done right and as discreetly as possible.
"Good afternoon, Ms. Bradford."
"Nice to meet you," I respond.
He extends his hand, and we shake before taking our seats—him on the other side of his broad mahogany desk, and me in a black leather arm chair across from him.
"So I've looked over your file and familiarized myself with the North Carolina divorce laws. We have an affiliate in North Carolina who can take the lead on this case, but I'll be the intermediary between the two of you. I'll also take the lead on any actions you need filed on your behalf. Basically, we'll work through him, but I'll be making all the final decisions. I think we can accommodate your request for a name change as well with the expedience you require." He opens a manila folder and begins to pull out the documents I carefully filled out, detailing my circumstances and the reason for my divorce.
"We'll file this under irreconcilable differences and proceed as you've suggested. Mr. Bradford will be granted the home, the vehicle, and all belongings you left behind. Are there any joint loans that I need to address in the filing?" He looks up from the folder to me.
"No, sir. I've never had any credit cards or loans in my name. Jay insisted everything be in his name."
His lips thin as he takes this in with a look of disdain. "I see."
"It's better this way, right?"
He gently closes the folder and leans back in his chair, his fingers steepling over the slight bulge of his belly. He gives me an assessing gaze before answering. "How long have you been running?"
His blunt question takes me by surprise, and before I can formulate a lie to answer, he cuts the air with his hand, dismissing my rebuttal. "There is no need for lies between the two of us. You've hired me to help rid you of this man, and I intend to do so. Now ...” He leans forward, undoing the top button of his suit jacket. "What I need from you is the truth." He cuts me a knowing look. "All of it."
My fingers tighten around the leather of my purse straps, and I begin to tell him my story, from the very beginning to the awful end.
By the time I've spilled all my secrets, it feels as if I've shed a hundred-pound weight from my chest. I've never told anyone the things I just shared with this stranger. But for some reason, I trust him. He reminds me of a caring grandfather seeking justice for those who've wronged me.
From his thinning gray hair to his ruddy round cheeks, Mr. Price gives off a comforting vibe. He seems genuinely vested in helping me rectify the mistake I made so many years ago.
"So do you think you'll be able to do this without him finding me? He can't know where I'm at."
He rubs at the five o'clock shadow on his chin, thinking over his response. "Ms. Bradford, I have to warn you that if we were to file an order of protection, he'd likely use it to locate your whereabouts. Especially given his access to the legal system. With that in mind, I think it best we avoid any such declarations. I'll proceed with the divorce filing and the request you've submitted to have your name legally changed."
I nod, taking everything in and growing more nervous by the second. I'm finally doing it. Cutting all ties between me and him. I know I should feel somewhat liberated, but the only feeling that is overwhelming me right now is fear. The fear of being found. The fear of what he'll do to me once he does find me. The fear of protecting the unborn child I carry for another.
Just. Fear.
"I know that look." He eyes me with a look of concern as he reaches into a drawer and pulls out a card. He reaches over the desk, extending the card to me. I reach over and take it, eyeing it cautiously.
"It's a group for battered women. My wife volunteers there and can help you through the next stage."
"Stage?" I ask, confused.
He gives me a warm smile. "Yes, Ms. Bradford. This is the next stage. After this, there's another stage. Life is a series of calculated stages that we must prepare and tackle with a single-minded enthusiasm. There are people at that shelter who can help you figure out how to do so. It's a wonderful organization, and I trust they'll give you the guidance you seek."
I clutch the card to my chest and take a deep breath, releasing it slowly as I absorb the gravity of the situation I'm facing. I glance up at Mr. Price and offer him a forced smile. "Thank you so much. I'll look into this."
"I hope you do." He stands and makes his way around the desk to show m
e out. Before I exit through the door, he catches me by the elbow and leans in to whisper to me. "They can help you in ways that are beyond the law. Please utilize their resources. It could save your life. But just to be on the safe side, I'll hire a private investigator to keep an eye on that deadbeat husband of yours. My guy is retired military, and he's very thorough. Having the inside scoop on your husband’s whereabouts should give you some peace of mind."
I swallow the lump rising in my throat and give a nervous nod. "Thank you," I whisper back and then take my leave.
When I'm outside, I walk close to a block in a haze before the cold wind nearly cuts straight through me. I raise an arm and wave a cab over, climbing in and telling him my address. The rest of the trip home is a blur as my mind runs through everything that's happened and what Jay's reaction will be when he receives the divorce papers.
He's going to lose his mind. He'll come looking for me. I know he will. He'll never accept that I'm moving on without him. No matter that he's treated me like shit for the past ten years, I'm a possession that he refuses to let go.
I lean my face against the window and stare off into the distance. My mind’s a cluttered mess of nerves, but a small thrill of exhilaration begins to assert itself as well. What if he doesn't find me, and I'm finally rid of him? The thought brings a smile to my face. Wouldn't that be grand!
Chapter Nineteen
Will
I hear the click of the door as she enters. I panicked a little when I came home and found the house empty. I know it's wrong of me, but if she never left the house, I would be completely happy.
When she leaves ... I worry. Anything can happen out there, and now that she's carrying my child, my fear multiplies times two.
Abbi was right in a twisted sisterly kind of way. I'm afraid of growing close to her because I know that eventually, she'll leave. Whether it's of her own accord or me driving her away with my hard-edged exterior.
The funny thing is, I'm beginning to want her to stay. It's nice coming home to a house and knowing that someone is on the other side of the door waiting for you. Even though I'm sure she isn't pining during my absence, she does seem to be somewhat pleased when I return.
Before I can rein myself in, the words tumble out of my mouth. "Where have you been?"
She stops, and the look that crosses over her face causes me to cringe internally. Apprehension and maybe a little fear weigh heavy on the strained expression she now wears. "My apologies. That came out harsher than I intended," I huff out, my fingers twining in my hair as I turn around and pace the floor before facing her again.
Defeated, my hands fall to my sides as I turn to face her. She places her purse on the island counter and takes a seat on one of the barstools. "I was bored and wanted to take in the city before I get too big to enjoy it."
I eye her closely, sensing that something is off, but I can't put my finger on what it is. With a raised brow, I ask, "And what did you go to see? Anything in particular?"
She fidgets in her seat but responds with a composure that I'm currently lacking. "Nothing specific. I just walked around. Visited some of the shops and purchased a few items." She points at a bag next to her purse from a shop I've never heard of before. But it's Chicago ... there's no end to the retail outlets in which to spend ungodly amounts of money. The streets are lined with boutiques from high-end couture to low-end thrift stores.
I shake my head, feeling like an ass. "I'm sorry. This is ...” I point at her and back at me. "I've never had to worry about a child before, and I'm finding it difficult not to be overbearing. This is new to me." I laugh a humorless laugh. "Not the whole worrying about someone else. Trust me, I've been there before, and it didn't turn out good." I frown. Memories of that day threaten to flood my mind, but I put a lid on it and face the problem sitting before me. "Listen, I just need to know where you're at. Okay?"
"Okay." It comes out barely above a whisper, and I feel like a complete ass for berating her.
I release a heavy breath and sit down on the stool next to her, staring down at the counter. I reach over to her purse and touch the phone peeking out of the back pouch. "I need some form of communication from you. Just to let me know what's going on." I chance a look at her and find her eyes staring into mine.
We stare at each other, no words passing, but thoughts are communicated from her gaze to mine.
I'm sorry, she says.
No, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have acted like such an ass, I say.
We sit like that, communicating without words, for what seems like a small eternity.
She's the first to look away, and it doesn't escape my notice that she's nervously chewing on her bottom lip.
That sweet plump lip that I'd love nothing more than to suck on and then gently nibble from one corner to the next.
She sucks in a breath, and I'm pulled back to reality from the fantasy of ravishing her mouth.
I jerk up from the stool and make my exit. Not saying another word, I get the hell away from her before I do something I'll regret.
Kara
What the heck just happened?
I head upstairs to my room and plop down on the bed. I'm feeling all out of sorts lately, but surely, it's too early for it to be pregnancy hormones. I contemplate that thought and then remember how out of control I've felt and then quickly come to the conclusion that no, it's obviously not too early.
When I came home and saw that Mr. Scott had been waiting for me and began questioning me on my whereabouts ... at first, I was afraid. I didn't know if he would lose his temper and begin screaming at me or if he would accuse me of hiding something from him. I didn't want to lie to him, but I would have if he'd asked.
Sometimes, the hardest thing for me to do is rid myself of old habits. I instinctively go into shutdown mode when confronted. Silence used to be my only means of protecting myself. I learned early on that no matter what I said, I was always wrong, and it only pissed Jay off even more if I tried to defend myself.
But Mr. Scott appears to be different. His questioning seems to be because he genuinely cares for my well-being. I answered him as honestly as I could. I mean, I couldn't come right out and tell him about my visit to my attorney’s office, but I didn't lie about shopping. I had ventured into a few shops to choose a couple of tops that will accommodate my expanding girth over time.
I'm only a few weeks into the pregnancy, and so far, I haven't noticed any huge changes, other than feeling tired all the time. But the doctor assured me that's quite normal this early on in the pregnancy. My body is going through a lot of changes to accommodate the pregnancy, and it's natural that I tire easily.
But what happened the moment our eyes locked on one another ... that wasn't hormones or effects from the pregnancy. Something raw and carnal passed between us. It wasn't awkward or intimidating like I usually feel when I'm around Mr. Scott. No, it seemed like he saw me as a woman for the first time. He looked beyond the contract to the woman sitting before him. His eyes blazed a trail over my features and settled like molten lava on my lips. I could practically feel the sensual heat building between us. And just when I thought he would kiss me, he left. Just up and left me sitting there with my mouth hanging wide open.
Was I shocked? No, not really. He tends to flee when things get a little heated between us. But for one minute, I saw his walls crumble and I looked into the eyes of a man who wanted me––very badly. And no sooner did I see that spark of lust flare like the sun in his eyes did he blink. His walls erected once more, he eyed me as if I were a mystery to solve and not a woman of flesh and bone and sensual needs.
It was akin to having a bucket of iced water poured over my head. Effectively snuffing the smoldering flame that had just sparked to life.
"If that's how you want to play it, Will Scott, that's fine with me," I mutter under my breath.
I refuse to be the victim again. I will not let a man trample over my self-worth. I am worthy of love. I am worthy of affection. And I'm damn sure worth
y of desire. Although my increasing waistline might hamper that for the time being, I am still worthy.
With that thought in mind, I rise from the bed and decide to take a nice, long, hot relaxing bath.
Chapter Twenty
Will
Six weeks. Four days. And seven hours.
That's how long it's been since my world flipped on its axis. Ms. Murphy has distanced herself from me these past few weeks, but that's fine by me. I needed distance. One night, I nearly forgot that. I nearly forgot myself. But we've settled into our roles with one another.
I go with her to my sister's office for our biweekly visits and watch the sonogram in complete awe as my baby develops within her womb. It's hard ... keeping that wall erected between us. Because I know if we had met under other circumstances, I'd be attracted to her. Possibly even pursue her. But the reminder of our arrangement is never far from my mind.
She's vulnerable in her current state. Emotionally unstable and experiencing changes within her body that are unfamiliar to her––scary even. To take advantage of her in her current state would be callous.
But still, I yearn.
Just like any man, I crave a connection with the one I spend my time with. I think of her, more often than not, and my thoughts are not always pure. No, quite the opposite. I wake up in the mornings with a need so strong that I find myself stroking off in the shower like a teenage boy who's just figured out morning wood is good for something besides pissing.
It doesn't help that she likes to walk around the house in long t-shirts with her bare legs on open display for my hungry eyes. It also doesn't help that her breasts have swelled and have become so tender that she refuses to wear a bra around the house. Her pert nipples are always ripe and begging to be suckled.
I shift and try to subtly adjust myself beneath the table. Kara has taken to cooking breakfast every morning. She insists that I sit down and have breakfast and dinner with her. She's trying to learn about me and my family, and I guess, in a way, I'm trying to understand her too.
A Whisper Of Solace Page 8