Chapter 28 #2
“I know.” She nods solemnly. “It’s very cinematic. And very humiliating.”
“But you still want him?” Aisha asks carefully.
“Well…” Atelia looks out toward the ocean for a second before shrugging. “Yes.”
“Yes?” The honesty in it catches me slightly off guard.
“What’s the situation?” Aisha asks.
“He loves her.” She swirls the wine slowly in her glass. “Period.”
“Are you trying to ask us something, Atelia?” I ask quietly.
“Maybe?” She finally looks at us. “What would you do?”
“Fight,” Aisha answers immediately.
“No.” I glance at her and she shrugs unapologetically.
“If you love somebody, why would you just back away because it’s complicated?” she continues. “Life is already complicated. People act like love is supposed to arrive perfectly packaged with background music.”
“That’s terrible advice,” I counter.
“No, your advice is terrible.” She points at me now. “Because I already know what you’re about to say.”
“Let it go,” I offer anyway.
Atelia’s eyes flick toward me carefully.
“If someone loves somebody else,” I continue softly, “Then forcing yourself into that space just…” I pause briefly. “It hurts eventually.”
“That is such emotionally constipated behavior.” Aisha groans.
“It’s realistic.”
“It’s fear.” She shoots back.
“It’s self-respect.” I fire, holding my ground.
“It’s cowardice.” She doesn’t let up.
“You think, babe?” I laugh softly despite myself, shaking my head. “Not everybody wants to fight forever, Aisha.”
“Maybe not,” she replies. “But if the love is real enough…” She trails off pointedly.
“I think loving Robert already feels hard enough.” Without thinking, without even realizing I’m doing it, the words leave me.
Silence follows after that. So much so that my own voice seems to replay back at me immediately.
I blink repeatedly.
Aisha’s eyes widen slowly over her wine glass.
Atelia catches it, the corner of her mouth curving upward immediately, satisfaction glittering in her expression like she’s just won a private bet.
“There it is,” she hums softly.
“I didn’t…” I feel the heat climb straight into my face. “I didn’t mean…”
“Yes, you did,” she cuts in lightly.
I open my mouth but nothing comes out.
“No judgment.” Atelia lifts her wine glass slowly. “A toast instead… To finally admitting feelings like a functioning human being.”
“Please shut up.” I groan, covering my face.
“I hear you, sis.” Aisha bursts out laughing so hard she nearly spills her drink.
Atelia clinks her glass gently against mine anyway.
Then, mercifully, she reaches for the food platter and slides it toward us.
“Eat,” she commands casually. “Before all these emotions ruin the pasta.”
I can do that.
I can eat.
Eat, not think about how neck deep in love I am with Robert.
When I get back to my room, the wine has nestled warmly beneath my skin.
It’s not enough to make me drunk but enough to make me honest with myself as I stand in front of the bathroom mirror staring at my reflection longer than necessary.
I look healthier now.
I’m still healing, but healthier.
The bruises along my collarbone have faded into faint shadows, the cut near my forehead is almost gone, and my body no longer feels bruised from pain.
And maybe that’s the problem.
Because Robert still touches me like I’m one wrong move away from shattering.
Gentle hands.
Gentle kisses.
Gentle everything.
Meanwhile, I’m standing here remembering the man who used to pin me against walls, his fingers bruising where they marked.
The man who used to look at me like hunger was a language.
I miss him… Badly.
Fight.
Aisha’s voice loops through my head.
Maybe that’s what I should do. Maybe I should discard my advice for a change and do things differently.
I exhale slowly before splashing water against my face.
Then I start freshening up with entirely too much intention behind it.
I apply my body lotion slowly against my skin. Slip into a silk sleep dress. Dab perfume carefully at my wrists even though I know he’ll smell it immediately anyway because Robert notices everything about me in ways that should honestly concern the government.
By the time I’m done, my pulse feels annoyingly loud.
I climb into bed afterward, trying to act normal about it. Trying not to look toward the door every thirty seconds, anticipating when he’ll walk through the door like he’s been doing every night for the past two weeks.
Sometimes late.
Sometimes exhausted.
But always here, holding me, sleeping beside me, and staying.
But tonight, I want him to stop treating me like recovery paperwork. I want him to rip the silk off me, flip me over, and drive into me with so much force I stop breathing for a minute.
Time crawls by as my mind loops around every filthy position I want him to pin me in. My irritation starts growing teeth the longer I wait, my body brimming with arousal.
By midnight, his absence feels personal.
I sit up finally with a frustrated sigh before shoving the blankets away from me.
The hallway outside my room is hushed now, most of the estate dimmed into pools of soft lighting.
A few guards still linger downstairs, one nodding respectfully when I pass.
I pretend I’m just thirsty as I head toward the kitchen even though I’m very obviously snooping for signs of Robert.
I round the corner.
Then stop short at the sight of Atelia.
She’s seated on the kitchen island wearing silk pajamas, one leg crossed over the other, slowly drinking sparkling water straight from the bottle.
Her gaze lifts immediately, then slowly drifts over me, noting the sleep dress, the lip gloss, and the effort in dropping my hair to one shoulder.
Understanding flashes across her face so quickly I almost turn around.
“Well,” she drawls softly. “Someone’s hunting.”
“No.” I clear my throat, heat flooding my face instantly. “I’m not hunting.”
“Mmh.”
“I’m just…” I glance toward the hall vaguely. “Walking.”
“At midnight.”
“Yes.” I nod, covering my cheek with a trembling hand.
“In perfume.” She lifts a brow.
I narrow my eyes.
“Relax.” She grins into the bottle. “You’re young. Be desperate beautifully.”
“I don’t like you.”
“No, you don’t.” She hops off the counter gracefully. “So. You finally got tired of him acting like a monk?”
“Technically…” I cross my arms tightly. “He’s being weird.”
“He’s trying not to hurt you.”
“He’s trying too hard.”
Atelia studies me for a second longer than usual this time.
“You really love him.” Her expression softens.
I look away first, trying to escape the bite of the words I let slip tonight.
“Am I that obvious?”
“To me?” She huffs lightly. “Painfully.”
I expect another joke after that… Maybe another tease.
Instead, she twists the bottle cap slowly between her fingers, smiling softly like she is turning over a thought.
“Be careful with your heart, Christine.” She nods to herself. Then shakes her head.
I frown slightly. “That’s cryptic”
Atelia leans back against the counter, eyes drifting somewhere distant for half a second before returning to me.
“Robert…” She pauses briefly. “Is not a reliable man to love.”
The sentence cuts mean across my ribs and turns bitter on my tongue.
“He loves deeply,” she continues. “But he disappears into things.” Her eyes hold mine now. “And sometimes he doesn’t notice what he’s neglecting until it’s already gone.”
The air suddenly feels colder, with pointy tips biting into my pores.
She pushes away from the counter then, smoothing invisible wrinkles from her pants.
“For what it’s worth,” she adds casually, already moving past me, “He does love you.” She halts beside me, the nearness sending chills down my spine. “But it comes with a price.” She adds darkly.
Then she’s off.