Chapter 10
10
Heaven – Two Weeks Later
I smile at the elderly lady behind me, who has only two things in her basket, and say, “You can go in front.”
She smiles and rasps, “Thank you, sweet girl,” and moves around me.
I have at least ten items in my basket, including ingredients to make homemade pizza with Micha tonight. It’s stretching the boat a little; money is tight, as always, but he’s got his first home game tonight and deserves a treat because, well, I can’t afford to pay for him to go to the arcade with his friends, and like hell am I asking Travis.
So far, we’ve had five therapy sessions, including our first one two weeks ago. On the first and second visits, we delved into parts of my childhood and spoke about my mom and how she’s been over the past ten years since I left Travis. In the last two, we talked about Travis’s place within the club and what it means.
We’re supposed to meet there in an hour, and today, we’re discussing Travis’s childhood, something we were supposed to talk about last week, but he put it off, knowing damn well his dad’s infidelity will come up.
I sigh as I put my groceries on the conveyer belt, my eyes going to a particular item, and my anger heightens at the jackass.
I still think therapy is a waste for us. Yes, I love him, but like he said, it’s been ten years, and I still can’t get past what he did. I know my mother is a big reason, but so is the fact that he took pleasure from someone else.
And the results won’t change my mind, even if he did make it happen.
Shaking my head, I bag my items as the bored eighteen-year-old says, “That’ll be $48.27.” I try to hold in my wince.
That will leave $1.87 in my account until next week….
Swallowing hard, I get my card out and pay for the groceries, wondering if I should transfer some money from Micha’s account, but I instantly squash it.
Every month, Travis puts around $4000 into my account. I pay for Micha’s after-school activities and school meals, but the rest goes into an account I opened for Micha. Because I’ve only taken small amounts out of it over the years for his essentials, like clothes, he has roughly $474,000.
I pay for all the household bills and food out of my wages at Jimmy’s Girls. This is also why it took me so long to get my degree.
Hopefully, I’ll get a job that pays more soon. I’ve sent out several resumes, but because I have no experience in the field of law, it’ll be hard to find someone to give me a chance.
After waving bye to the bored cashier, I walk out of the store only to groan internally as I hear, “Well, well, look who it is, girls….”
Goddamn Ginger. Great.
Not willing to even entertain her, I continue my path on the other side of the parking lot to my car but tense when I hear her state, “The fat assed bitch used to follow Anchor around like a lost puppy in high school, but he chose me like he always has…. His dick felt really good inside me last night, too, something she won’t experience.”
I hate it because instead of holding my head high, I go to a place I can’t seem to climb out of, and doubt fills me.
He told Micha he had clients late last night, which is why he couldn’t come to his practice, but right now, with how I feel, it wouldn’t surprise me if he was with her.
Whoever is with her laughs, and blood boils as Ginger begins to describe, “His cock is so long and thick, perfect for my tight pussy….”
Taking a deep breath, I turn and face her, not surprised that her face is caked with makeup, making her look orange, or that she’s in a skirt that can be classed as a belt and a crop top that looks more like a bra, the looked complete with stripper heels.
I state, “And here I heard you slept with every brother at the clubhouse, including the ones old enough to be your grandfather.”
Her eyes narrow, and she snaps, “You’re just jealous that Anchor never wanted you!”
I hum and state, “Or, maybe I’m not one for sloppy seconds, unlike you; I mean, you love fucking married men, right?”
Her mouth hangs open, and I smirk before I turn on my boots and continue my path to my car, my anger wanting to take over, the urge to knock her out filling me.
“Anchor was married?” I hear someone gasp, their voice high and whiny, going through me.
“No, he wasn’t; she’s lying to save face because he got a restraining order against her, or that’s what he told me,” Ginger’s reply just hit my ears as I reached my car.
A restraining order? Hey….
I walk into the therapist’s office an hour later after parking my car next to Travis’s bike that I may or may not have carved “Jackass” into the tank.
Okay, so I may still be salty after the whole Ginger situation and the fact I didn’t have time to do what I wanted to after putting the groceries away.
“Hey Angel,” Travis says, but I ignore him and walk to the receptionist, Zoe, and say, “Checking in for Dr. Larsa, please.”
The woman side-eyes Travis as he stands and walks over to us. My anger, which is taking over, is ready to blow at the hunger she has in her eyes but before I can snap, Dr. Larsa calls, “Heaven and Anchor,” and I sneer at Zoe, who flinches back before shoving past Travis, who clears his throat but follows.
“Come take a seat,” the therapist says, and I do as I’m told, but instead of going to the couch like normal, I take the armchair. The doctor furrows her brows in confusion while Travis sits on the edge of the couch closest to me. I sneer at him next, causing him to widen his eyes in shock.
Dr. Larsa clears her throat and says, “Uh, right then. I believe today we were going to discuss Anchors' childhood.”
I hum and reply, “Sure, let’s talk about how my husband didn’t want to really join the club for a while because he didn’t want to turn out like his cheating asshole father who ended up getting another woman pregnant, giving him a sister that his mom decided to raise after taking her husband back when said husband refused for her to leave the club compound?” I scoff. “Guess I should be grateful the jackass didn’t knock the whore up to boot, huh?”
Dr. Larsa raises a brow at me while Travis clears his throat and asks, “Uh, Angel, is everything okay?”
I don’t answer him, so our lovely therapist interjects, “Anchor, how did you feel when you realized what you did was the same as your father?”
Travis sighs. “Like fucking shit. I grew up watching my mother struggle with his affair baby, I watched her in pain….” He sighs. “I felt dirty, like I ruined everything.” I snort, making both of them look my way before Travis continues, “When I went home, my wife had kicked me out, not willing to let me to explain….”
Explain? Is he serious?
I snarl, “Sure, explain away the fact you fucked another woman on our first wedding anniversary!”
He winces. “I didn’t mean it like that, Angel. I just, fuck, I felt like I lost you even before I fucked up.”
Surely, he’s not insinuating that our son made him jealous….
I look at him and see his face is serious, and I raise a brow. “You have got to be kidding me! Did I, or did I not, still ensure you had clean clothes and food on the table after I gave birth, a birth you almost missed, might I add?” His throat bobs. “I put you first every single day. I quit college, I took a night job, and I ensured you had everything you needed because you were always at the club or school.” I stand and lean over him a little and snap, “I don’t give a fuck if I stopped sleeping with you for six months or even a year, I still made sure everything was about you—and you cheated !”
I shout the last bit, my anger overriding.
“You don’t have any explanation to give me, Travis, or should I call you Anchor now?” He scowls, but I ignore it. “You stuck your dick inside another woman and grunted in pleasure that it was the best sex you had in a while when I’d just giving birth to your child, a you realize, that takes two people, two , to conceive, so don’t sit there with the woe is me bullshit, that I wasn’t a good, attentive wife after our son was born, because as far as I’m concerned you fucked up, not me. You got to continue to live your fucking life and have a career while I became a single fucking mother. You caused all this, so don’t sit there like I did you wrong just because I refused to be like your mother and decided instead not to stick around because once a cheat, always a cheat!”
I curl my lip at him and his shocked face before sitting back down and looking at the therapist, who has a smile on her face.
“This has got to be the best breakthrough with you, Heaven. Over the sessions, you’ve kept your emotions out of it,” Dr. Larsa says.
Travis interjects, “I didn’t mean it the way it came out. I just meant that you didn’t give me a chance to prove to you, to show you how fucking sorry I was, still am….”
I shake my head, refusing to look at him, and I state, “How about quid pro quo and I go find a man to screw me from behind, and Travis can stand there and watch, and let’s see if he can get the image of someone screwing his wife out of his head, but it has to be someone he knows, someone who can remind him of what his wife did.”
I feel the tension in the room, but I ignore it and look at my so-called husband, and I snap, “I went to the grocery store this morning, and not only do I get told your long thick dick was fucking the whore last night, but apparently you even talk shit about getting a restraining order against me.” I nod to the other end of the couch and state, “You may want to move further away because I don’t fancy going to jail, especially when I have a child to care for, a child, by the sounds of it, you never even wanted.”
That said, I turn back to our therapist and cross my arms over my chest, refusing to look at Travis again.
“This happened this morning?” Dr. Larsa asks, and I nod once before confirming, “It turns out the clubwhores at the Huntsmen MC don’t even know he’s married, so please tell me why I am even bothering to be here.”
“Because you love me,” Travis whispers, “because deep down in your heart, you know what Ginger said this morning was bullshit. The last time I fucked her was that night you caught us and even then, was only the second time, the first being before I met you, Heaven. Piston can prove that with years of footage; you are the only woman I have been with since. You are my wife, and I love you so fucking much, if I didn’t, I wouldn’t try and fight for our marriage, I wouldn’t be sitting here today with a therapist to win my wife back—and I did want Micha, I was just scared I’d lose you, lose us. We were young, Angel, you were fucking nineteen, I wanted you to have fun and live before we settled down with kids, but that doesn’t mean I don’t love our son.”
My eyes tear up, and I sniffle before blinking several times to try and ensure the tears don’t fall.
Dr. Larsa comments, “I know it doesn’t feel like it right now, but what just happened, it’s a good thing. You are starting to open yourself, Heaven, and this pain you feel, it’s something you need to feel because it doesn’t matter what Anchor says or what excuses he tries to come up with,” she sends Travis a wince before she continues, “he still cheated, and there is no excuse for it. You needed him, and he let you down, but he’s trying to show you, like he has over the ten years, he’s always trying. You now need to figure out if you want him to continue to try or if you want to walk away.”
Travis butts in, “I won’t let her walk away; she’s my life.”
I swallow hard and admit, “Then maybe you shouldn’t have done what you did because, as it stands, I’m still living in the past despite trying to get out of it….”
“I’ll follow you to the school, Angel,” Travis says as we walk out of the therapist's office forty minutes later. I nod, unwilling to talk to him because what he says doesn’t matter. I still feel like he’s lying, but I guess that’s what happens when you break someone’s trust, and they then have a scorned mother in your ear for years.
As we approach his bike, I smirk and look at it, causing him to frown and ask, “Angel?” I turn to him with an evil glint in my eye. He sighs, “What did you do?”
I smile and innocently say, “Nothing, jackass,” before I walk to my car and climb in, not feeling an ounce of guilt.
What did he expect? The man cheated, and the bitch has thrown it in my face since, all while I struggle as a single mother.
The man is a jackass through and through, but he’s a jackass I can’t seem to fall out of love with.
Shaking my head, I start my car, ready to see my son kick some ass at his first home game.