Chapter 7
CATALINA
Idon’t want to go. Sleep leaves me with the rising of the sun, my body too used to getting up early for college.
The soft orange light that spills through the vast windows bathes the bed, coloring Julian’s body in gold.
This is a dream. This has to be a dream.
Since when does my life feel so perfect?
I stare at him while he sleeps, chest going up and down. My heart swells with the sight, my head propped up on a hand. God, how I wish this was my every day. Wake up with him next to me, go on with my day knowing he’ll be home to receive me at the end.
Lying back down, I stare at the ceiling.
No, this is foolishness. Though Julian told me the most beautiful things yesterday, getting my hopes up on a relationship is a shortcut to disappointment.
My heart keeps remembering the way his gaze adored me, and how his hands made me feel like I belonged to him...
But my head tells me to stay put. To keep living my life without daydreaming about this much older, much more successful man.
If he wants to see me again, then I’ll be the happiest woman alive. If not, then my heart will break only slightly.
Julian turns to his side, arm reaching out for me. He folds it around my waist, pulling me closer to his chest, then buries his face into the crook of my neck. His warm breath rumbles out in comfort, and I can’t help but close my eyes and soak in his presence for another minute.
Then, as quietly as possible, I slide out of his hold.
Never thought I’d be the one doing the walk of shame in the early morning, but Dad can’t catch me.
He must be sleeping still, and I have some time to get back into my room before he wakes up.
I pick up my discarded clothes, wincing to the slight soreness between my legs, and get dressed.
With a last loving look in Julian’s direction, I leave his room.
The floorboards creak as I walk back to my room. No one is up yet, all the doors closed, no sound in the house. Maybe the cook, downstairs, making our breakfast. A part of me wants to go into the kitchen and get to meet her. If all my dreams came true, I’d get to see her often.
Curling my fingers around the doorknob to my guest room, I open it without a sound and slip inside. Whirling around with a smile on my face, I celebrate for all of a second.
Then I see my father sitting on a chair near the window. I freeze. His eyes burn, fastened on me.
“Where were you?” he asks, his voice low but growling, barely restrained.
I know what that voice means. He’s stiff, hands in fists on the chair’s arms, and my body trembles in expectation of what he’s going to do to me.
“In the kitchen,” I blurt out the first lie that comes to my head.
No matter what I say, I know I’m going to be punished.
Nothing is going to save me now. My heart thunders so hard inside my chest I grow breathless, afraid of my fate.
My father unfolds his body from where he sits, standing up so very slowly it’s torture to watch. “Your bed is still made.”
“I made it before I left.”
“Both you and I know your housewife skills are lacking.” He steps closer, his gaze drilling into me, forcing me to stay unmoving. “And you are wearing those fucking slutty pajamas I told you not to bring.”
I shiver. “Dad...”
Pain explodes to one side of my face, my head snapping to my shoulder. I gasp, raising a hand to touch the abused skin, then lift my eyes to find him with a hand still raised.
“Puta,” he roars. My father also shakes, but I know he’s shaking with rage.
“Puta de mierda.” He reaches out and grips my arm.
Shakes me. Hard. My head hurts, my hand still on my cheek.
“How dare you? Were you fucking my boss?” Another slap.
I gasp. Pain erupts again, stinging hard.
I touch my cheek, and my fingers come back painted red.
“You have five minutes to pack up your things, Catalina. Then I’m dragging you back home if I need to. ”
He shoves me away. I trip and drop, my hip hitting the ground. Dad leaves, closing the door behind him quietly. Wouldn’t want to wake anyone up. Wouldn’t want to ruin his reputation with his colleagues.
Tears sprout from my eyes, and I let them run down my cheeks as I shoot to my feet. Dad won’t wait. If I sit here and cry for the entirety of the five minutes, he’ll force me to leave my stuff behind. Been there, done that.
I pack up as fast as I can, and the second the five minutes are up, Dad barges into the room and drags me out.
He hisses at me to keep quiet as I stumble down the corridor.
I have to swallow down my tears as he pulls me outside, then shoves me against the car as he unlocks it.
The second I’m buckled up, I turn to the window and cry my heart out.
My heart tells me I should stay. Call for Julian, plead for him to intervene.
He definitely would. He would take my side, defend me.
But when Dad kicked me out of his house, I would have nowhere to go.
Julian and I slept together once. I can’t force him to take me in, can’t expect him to start a serious relationship with me so I can move into his house.
That would be so wrong. I don’t want him to feel forced, I don’t want this relationship to be forced.
As if I have any chance of being happy after this. My heart breaks inside my chest as I cry to myself. Every small sob makes my father yell at me, so I try to keep the pain inside. Try to keep my unhappiness only to myself.
The only thing I’m taking home from this travel is this love. I love him, and I won’t forget him soon, even if he doesn’t want me back. Even if this week was everything we’re ever going to have.