Chapter 18
Eighteen
AURELIA
Two days have passed, and Nathaniel keeps coming and going from the house. He says he has business to take care of, but I notice that business keeps pulling him into the basement for far too long.
There is a difference between remembering a person and starting to remember who that person really was. The more I remember, the more I see what I’ve missed, and it hurts.
The part of me that didn’t know before had no idea what it really meant to be stuck.
All this time, I thought I loved Daniel.
I thought that, in some way, I couldn’t leave because maybe he would change, maybe he would love me again, and somewhere inside that hope, I lost whatever love I had left for him.
But the part of me that remembers now knows the truth.
I was afraid to leave. Somehow, I always believed that if I did, something horrible would happen and I would end up completely alone.
It’s hard to understand how someone ends up in a life like that, because it’s never something you want and never something that just happens all at once.
You keep taking it until something inside you breaks.
You grow numb to everything around you, while a quiet part of you still hopes for something better.
I used to dream of a better life. I used to dream that one day someone would come, and I would finally be able to leave.
I just needed to feel safe enough to do it.
Nathaniel gave me that safety.
Even when he was kilometers away, in another city, living another life, he still gave me that hope to hold onto when everything else was slipping through my hands. I think that is the part of me that remembers who he truly is.
I know some of my memories of him, or the way other people saw him, were different. But people wear different masks for different crowds and still keep the truest parts of themselves hidden underneath. He is proof of that. To everyone else, he was a bad man. To me, he was the best one.
And that is the strange part, because Daniel was the complete opposite. If anything, that is proof that you never really know a person until you live with them under the same roof.
I shift on the bed. We moved all of my things into the master bedroom, and the room is no longer buried beneath white cotton sheets.
It feels real. And for the first time in what feels like forever, I am enjoying my time with him.
Time stops when I’m here. The rest of the world fades so easily that sometimes I forget anyone else exists.
After weeks of tears, I catch myself smiling again.
I haven’t been reading much of Lilibeth’s diary lately, but I still want to know her. Not because she was his wife. Because I need to see Nathaniel through someone else’s eyes, not just mine.
I open the page and read.
I gasp and snap the diary shut. My heart pounds so hard as I leave it on the bed and step out onto the balcony, chasing a breath from what I just read. My hands press against the cold stone railing as I look down.
I see him placing something into his red cabriolet, and my brows pull together. The car feels familiar. I brush it off when he looks up and smiles at me.
“Where are you going?” I shout down to him.
“We’re going to town,” he calls back. “It’s Wednesday.”
A smile tugs at my lips. “So I’m allowed to leave the house, Mr. Rosewood?”
He nods, opening the car door and leaning against it. He pulls a cigarette from his pocket and lights it. He inhales, then exhales a smoke that starts curling into the air around him.
“Don’t tell me you want to jump.”
I tilt my head. “Oh, you want me to come down?”
“No, Kitten,” he exhaled, clearly running out of patience, “I want you to stay up there forever. Maybe start a rooftop garden while you’re at it.”
I tilt my head, crossing my arms. “Tempting. Do I at least get a ladder, or is this a permanent exile situation?”
He flicks the ash off his cigarette. “Oh, definitely permanent.”
I grin, leaning a little further over the edge just to annoy him. “Wow. And here I thought you were inviting me out on a date. My mistake.”
He drags a slow breath, then points toward the entrance. “Get down here before I come up there and carry you down myself.”
“Promises, promises,” I shout back.
“Kitten,” he says, flicking the cigarette to the ground and crushing it beneath his shoe. Then he pushes off the car and breaks into a run toward the entrance.
I hear his steps pounding against the floorboards inside, each one making a closer sound that comes through the house as he makes his way up to the balcony.
“Well,” I lift a brow, “that was quick.”
He runs a hand through his hair, already stepping toward me. “You’re insufferable.”
“And yet,” I tilt my head, smiling sweetly, “here you are. Came all this way just to see me?”
I laugh under my breath as he reaches me, his hand closing firmly around my wrist.
“Congratulations,” he adds, already turning me toward the door, “you’ve lost your balcony privileges.”
“Wow,” I gasp dramatically, letting him pull me along, “You’re really escalating quickly.”
“Keep talking,” he says, not even looking back, “and I’ll add more to the list.”
“At this rate, I’ll be locked here forever.”
“Don’t tempt me, Kitten.”
His hands slide under my thighs, and he lifts me up in his hands. A soft squeak slips out of me, surprise breaking into a smile as I wrap my arms around his neck, holding on.
“What’s in town?” I ask.
“A surprise.”
I narrow my eyes, poking his shoulder. “Suspicious behavior.”
He carries me down the stairs, then out through the entrance toward his car. When he sets me back on my feet, he reaches into his pocket and pulls out two tickets.
I take them from his hand and lift them closer, squinting as I read.
“Golden State Summer Fair?” I say out loud.
He glances at the ticket, then back at me.
“Yeah,” he says dryly, “try to contain your excitement. I know it’s hard.”
I narrow my eyes on him. “You got me fair tickets?” Dragging the words through a wide, fake smile.
“No,” he deadpans, opening the car door, “I thought we’d stand outside and admire the parking lot.”
I huff, climbing in. “How fun.”
He leans closer and pulls the seatbelt over me, the strap brushing against my chest before it clicks into place. Then he lifts his head and looks at me, his eyes locking on mine.
“It will be,” he says, leaning in until his breath warms my lips. “I heard you’re afraid of heights.”
I swallow.
“Don’t worry.” He chuckles. “You won’t even notice you’re in the air while you moan my name with my fingers inside you, Kitten,” he whispers against my mouth. “Deep inside you.”
I blink at him, my thighs pressing together, heat already creeping between them just from the thought. My gaze drops to my bare knees.
I picked the wrong day to wear a dress.
He pulls back, shuts the door, and walks around the car. I watch him slide into the driver’s seat, then force myself to look ahead. This is the first time I’ve been in the front seat since the accident.
He starts the engine and turns “Call Me” by Bonnie Tyler on the radio. As we pull away, he glances at me, his gaze moving from the road to my hands clenched tight in my lap. He notices. And moves his hand to my thigh.
“Breathe,” he says. “I’m here.”
I drag in a breath, then let it out while looking at him. My hand finds his fingers, wrapping around it hard enough for my nails to sink into his skin as the car keeps moving.
I close my eyes.
The song keeps playing, and when it ends, the car stops.
I open my eyes and realize we’re parked near the bus station, in the lot beside it.
A fair is just in front. Lights are coming in every direction, splashing color all over.
Families move past with children tugging at their hands.
Couples walk by with cotton candy. Clowns move near a tent, dancing and waving people inside.
And we’re here.
I let go of his hand and look down.
He’s bleeding, tiny crescent marks rise on his skin where my nails dug into him.
“I’m sorry,” I say.
His hand lifts to my face, and I squeeze my eyes shut on reflex. My body braces for a slap that never came. Instead, his fingers curl gently around my jaw and guide my face toward his. His lips press against mine, and when he pulls back, his breath stays between us.
“I’m not him, Kitten,” he says. “And I will never be.”
I nod, my eyes filling with tears.
It’s complicated when someone breaks you so badly that every person after them feels like a threat. When they tear your trust apart so completely that even your own mind starts turning against you.
He unbuckles my seatbelt, then steps out of the car and walks around to my side to open the door for me.
Before I can get out, he crouches down between my knees and slides his hand up my dress.
His gaze scans the space around us, checking if anyone is watching, and then his fingers hook into my thong and pull it down my thighs, then past my sneakers.
“You won’t be needing this,” he says, tucking it into the back pocket of his jeans.
He locks the car, and we walk toward the fair. Compared to the house, everything here feels blinding. Neon lights flash from every direction. Disco music blasts through speakers hooked to long cables running between the swings and carousels.
He points at the swings and pulls my hand toward them.
I shake my head.
We stop by the man selling tickets, and he buys ours for the next ride. My stomach twists as people crowd around us. For a second, it feels like every pair of eyes is on us.
Then I realize why.
He didn’t just buy tickets for one round. He bought the next four.
Sixteen minutes.
The people waiting in line start complaining under their breath, then louder when they realize he isn’t changing his mind. But he doesn’t even look at them. One by one, they just give up and walk away, until it’s just us.
I already feel like I might puke, but I’m trusting the process.
I swallow my pride and sit in the swing made for couples, and he sits right beside me. The man locks us in, then walks to the motor that powers the ride, and slowly, we begin to lift into the air.
I squeeze my eyes shut, unable to look down.
But he pulls me closer, his hand sliding over my thigh.
I open my eyes just enough to see that no one is beneath us. My gaze moves upward instead, to the open sky, then to the glowing tents below, then to the other swings spinning around us in a wide circle.
He moves his hand higher along my thigh, my fingers tightening around the cold iron handle as I let him slide inside me. His touch floats, fingers leaving me only to circle my clit, pulling a shiver straight down my spine.
He licks his lips, then lowers his mouth to my neck, brushing a kiss before his teeth catch my skin. His fingers slip back inside me, deeper this time, pushing as his teeth drag lightly along my throat.
A moan breaks out of me, my body leaning into his hand as his thrusts quicken.
“Spread your legs,” he says. “No one can see us.”
I believe him.
I spread my legs wider, my back pressing into the swing as my lips part, my body pulsing against his hand.
He lifts his head, his other hand finding my cheek, holding me still as he pulls me into him. His lips meet mine, his tongue sliding inside as if he’s tasting every sound I make.
His fingers press further inside me, stretching me, first two, then three, moving in while his palm brushes against my clit. Each thrust sends another wave through me, my moans spilling into his mouth.
“Relax,” he breathes against my lips. “You’re holding everything but me.”
My eyes fall shut, my back arching as I give in, leaning fully into his touch.
“Good girl,” he whispers, and I feel him push deeper again, my pussy opening for him.
He has full control over me.
I bite down on my lip, feeling my inner walls tighten then relax holding him in. When he pulls his fingers out, the emptiness makes me gasp, only for him to circle my clit again, drawing a louder moan from my throat. My hand flies over my mouth, trying to trap the sound.
He doesn’t let me recover. His fingers slip back inside me, all four this time, but he doesn’t thrust deep.
He drags them back, curling them just enough to keep me hooked on him, his fingertips pressing and pulsing in a way that makes my breath stutter.
His palm ponds against my clit, each touch pushing me closer to the edge.
I can’t hold it.
My eyes fall shut, my body giving in as my moans grow louder behind my hand.
The pressure builds so fast, and then it breaks, warmth spilling over his fingers, my whole body shaking as he keeps moving inside me, not stopping, not letting me come down.
A quiet chuckle leaves him.
He slides his fingers out, only to return to my clit, slowly again, dragging it out, while his other hand cups my cheeks, forcing my face toward his. His mouth claims mine, his tongue slipping inside, swallowing every broken sound I make as I tremble against him.
“Don’t hide it,” he whispers. “I can feel exactly what I’m doing to you.”
He pulls back just enough to reach into his pocket, retrieving my thongs. He wipes his hand with them like it’s nothing, folding them and pressing them back in the pocket.
I just stare at him, my body still trembling. The ride slows beneath us, and within a minute we’re back on the ground. My feet can’t even stand, he made me lose the ability to walk.
“You…” I gasp, trying to take a step, but my knees buckle, my balance gone. “We…”
Sixteen minutes. That’s all it took for him to pull me apart until I couldn’t even walk.
He doesn’t give me the chance to try again. His hands slide under my legs and he lifts me easily.
“You don’t have to walk, Kitten,” he says. “I can fuck you and carry you around every day.”