Chapter 37
Chapter thirty-seven
Katie
“Who was that on the phone?” I ask.
Brad’s eyes stare back, dead like stone. The softness of earlier gone.
“Just a sales call,” he mutters, walking off into the kitchen.
“Are you hungry?” I call after him, tottering behind to catch up. “You must be exhausted after your flight. I can pull something together…”
As I step up behind him, he whirls to face me, grabbing my shoulders between strong hands. It stops my movement dead; my neck cranes backward as he glares down. Every part of me caves inward.
“What’s wrong?” I whisper, lost. Only twenty minutes ago, he was laughing with me in bed after being intimate. Telling me how good I am for him, how he could never live without me. Now, the jackal beneath the kindness is back. And he’s furious.
“What’s wrong?” he spits. “If you don’t know, Katie, then why the fuck should I tell you? Now I know why your ex-husband treated you like a nasty little bitch. You fucking are one.”
My heart drops from my chest. It sits in my stomach heavy, the blood draining, curdling like milk.
“Nothing but a nasty, horrid, cheap bitch.” Each word bites harder than the last, taking chunks of my confidence with it.
“No, no, no,” I cry, my face already smeared with tears. My mind racing, trying to keep up with the whiplash of his moods. “I don’t understand. What’ve I done? Why are you so angry with me?”
“Katie,” he growls. “If you want this to work between us, you need to start treating me with some damn respect. This long-distance thing doesn’t work. You’re coming back to New York with me, no arguments. Start packing.”
“But…”
“No buts, no discussion. You come with me or wave goodbye.” His fingers dig into my flesh. I’m too terrified to move. “And you’ll be waving your career goodbye too.”
“You wouldn’t. I’ve worked too hard…”
He storms into my living room, picks up a small floral ornament Bex gave me years ago, and hurls it against the wall.
It was a cheap little thing, but meant the world to me.
All I can do is watch as it shatters, scattering across the floor along with the best parts of me. The parts I’ve fought so hard to keep.
He grins; I drop to my knees.
“I’ll do anything to keep you. Anything, and that includes breaking you if you defy me. Your body. Your soul. Your finances. Don’t you see? You have what you do because of me. You would never have come so far without me. You owe me.”
Strands of sweat-ridden hair twist in my fingers as I bow on my floor, the panic surging. His bare feet pad toward me. I glance up, and he reaches for my head, patting gently like you would a puppy.
As fast as his rage surfaces, his shoulders slump, his demeanor softens in a single beat. “I need you, Katie. And you need me. I’m taking you home.”
He crouches, linking our fingers. We rise together. I look anywhere but at him.
“I only do this because I love you,” he whispers. “Trust me to know what’s best for you. I haven’t been wrong so far, have I? Look at what you have…” My teeth sink into my lip. He squeezes my fingers. “Have I been wrong?”
“No, you haven’t,” I murmur. He drops a kiss to my forehead.
“Good girl, now go and pack your things.”
Defeated, I wander to my bedroom, pulling belongings out of my drawers, piling them on the bed with no plan.
What will I need to take? How long are we going to be in New York?
I want to ask a million questions, but I’m too frightened to speak.
Brad has made his position clear—go with him or lose what I’ve strived for. I can’t bear it.
I’ve hit rock bottom before. I won’t again. I can handle this.
Ten minutes later, he pops his head around the door, looking calm and collected, while I’m still physically shaking.
I may be able to talk my mind around, but my body remembers the fear.
It hasn’t recovered yet from our earlier ordeal.
It’s moved to the point of numbness. I imagine how an antelope in a lion’s jaws does when it accepts its fate.
“Babe, do you want a hot drink?”
My eyes widen, but I smile softly and nod, not trusting my voice to hide my nerves. Brad doesn’t appear to notice and disappears back the way he came, then the kettle clicks on. His anger has me rattled.
The old terror reappears at the thought of being connected with a man so controlling. But the familiar feeling of having no way out is there too, the one that made me choose the devil before is back, singing the same song.
You got yourself here, now you have to live with it.
But I lived with a controlling man before and survived. I will again. And maybe, once we’re there, in New York, on his home turf, he’ll relax. Maybe then our love story will resume, and we can be happy. Together.
Lance has been messaging, but I’ve ignored it.
Leaving them unread as soon as Brad told me he was on his way, the guilt of pretending I was single, or at least not telling him I wasn’t.
I told myself I needed to find the perfect way to tell him I have a partner.
Really, I was avoiding the conversation as he means too much.
But moving to New York with Brad puts the final nail in the coffin of my relationship with Lance, whatever kind of relationship that is. And it should; he isn’t my future. He deserves to know the truth. That we are not the endgame.
But when alone in the dark, it’s Lance who brings me solace—it’s him I imagine in my bed keeping me warm. I need to put this fantasy to bed, once and for all. For both of us.
Lance, I haven’t been completely honest with you. I have a partner, and he wants me to move to the US with him. Our plane leaves on Saturday. I don’t want us to end our friendship on bad terms. Can we speak before I go? Katie xoxo
A message. One final shot at attempting to make amends, to put aside the guilt I’ve been feeling for the past weeks.
Hours pass, and there’s no response from Lance. He’s read the message but seems to have chosen not to enter a discussion with me. It hurts. The thought of never speaking to him again tears my heart.
Before, when we were apart, I had come to terms with not having Major Lance McDonald in my life, but these last few weeks and months have shown me how important he is to me. I just need him to know that I care.
Brad then tells me that some guy had called when I was packing. A sales call, he told him to get lost. I only realized it was Lance when flicking through my call records later. I ask Brad if he took the caller’s name, and he tells me I shouldn’t care. I drop the subject, defeated.
***
Amy throws her arms around me for what feels like the hundredth time. Tears stream down her face, her mascara runs in patterns over her cheeks, mini trail of sadness.
“Are you sure about this?” she whispers in my ear so Brad can’t hear. “I’m worried about you. He’s a control freak. You’re better off on your own than with him.”
Amy overheard Brad last night laying down the law about what he expects of me once we get to New York. What I am and am not allowed to do. Who to socialize with, and where and when my presence will be required.
He’s a busy and important man. A rich man. An entitled man. I’m in a relationship with someone who knows how to get what they want. If what he wants doesn’t come to him naturally, he will take it by force. Or ruin you if you don’t comply.
One night, I listened through a closed door as he dissected a staff member piece by piece in his office. Every fault this man had ever shown him a glimpse of was laid bare to be gawked at. Then he began to mold him back together.
A three-hundred-and-sixty-degree flip to explaining how he was an asset to Brad’s business. How he needed him but wouldn’t accept his shortcomings. That he needed to get better.
The saga was polished off with Brad assuring his employee there was always a job for him at the company. But if he tried to leave, there wouldn’t be one in the media industry anywhere else for him. His choice was to comply or walk away.
I didn’t hang around to hear any more. It was that overheard berating that proved to me how much hot water I was in. That nothing Brad gives is for free, and he expects complete submission. Everywhere.
I smile, trying to placate Amy’s fears. It only magnifies my own.
“Yes, honey.” I wrap her hand in mine, giving her as confident a look as I can muster. “Brad loves me. He’s a generous, successful man. I’m fifty and need to be sensible. I’d be an idiot to give up this opportunity.”
“But, Katie,” she stammers, and I put my finger on her lips.
“No buts,” I sigh. “Just try to be happy for me.”
Brad strolls over, confidence oozing from every pore. Amy’s glare is hostile—she has been openly hating him all morning. He’s ignored her; she’s inconsequential to him.
“Darling,” he says warmly. “The cases are at the door. The car will be here in an hour. I have some calls to make, so I’m going to go to the café down the road to get some peace.” He looks pointedly at Amy. “I will be back in half an hour. Enjoy your remaining time with your friend.”
“You make that sound like I’ll never see her again,” Amy hisses.
He shrugs his shoulders and walks out the front door.
“You can’t go with him,” she wails. “He’s a bastard.
You’ve said as much yourself. Please stay here with me.
We can be lonely spinsters together. I’ll even let you get some cats, and I’m allergic.
We can be crazy cat ladies. Katie, please just stay, or at least take some more time to think about it. ”
I shake my head sadly.
“This is my final chance, Amz. Please don’t let us part ways like this. I love you.”
She’s about to launch into another speech about why I shouldn’t continue down this path. I don’t want to hear it. I have enough doubts myself, never mind adding hers on top.