Chapter 13
Khenji
I get up early in the morning partially because I had a hard time sleeping while lying next to sleeping beauty. There’s quite a bit of uneasiness that comes along with being with a woman as fascinating as her. A woman who is one I could only dream about before. A woman who’s my destiny.
And I was lying in her bed…
My breathing was off, too. It was deep and forced. My psyche couldn’t handle being in her presence. And when she touched my leg with her foot, something inside of me shifted. I know she wanted to be closer to me, and I wanted nothing more than to feel her warm body touching mine, but there are certain things I cannot handle. For the moment, that’s one of them.
I just wrapped upcooking breakfast. I’m hoping it will help smooth things over between us after last night. After I told her not to touch me, she turned over and went to sleep. I don’t know if it’s still on her mind this morning, but it’s on mine, so why wouldn’t it be on hers?
She walks into the kitchen wearing a robe. Her hair is brushed up into a ponytail. She looks like she’s feeling better. That’s a good sign.
“Good morning, Livia.”
“Good morning.”
“I made us some breakfast.”
“Thanks.”
She proceeds to the Keurig where she makes a single serving of coffee. She adds two Splendas and cream, then stirs it. Her eyes roll up to look at me as she takes a sip.
“Are you going to join me?” I ask, standing by the table.
“Sure.”
She walks over, takes a seat and lowers the coffee next to the plate I prepared for her. Then she picks up a fork and rakes eggs around her plate. She must not be hungry.
“How are you feeling this morning?” I inquire.
“Physically, I feel fine. Mentally, I’m confused.”
“Confused about what?”
“You.”
I rest my fork on the plate and brace myself. I knew last night didn’t go over well with her, even though I was trying my hardest to help. I probably would’ve been better off going home, but I needed to be there with her to make sure she was okay, so I stayed.
She says, “Khenji—it’s odd how you make a big deal about me touching you. And it’s not only that. I’m an open book. I tell you things about me and my past, but I feel like you intentionally keep things from me.”
“Like what?” I ask with challenging eyes.
“For instance, you carry a pocket watch everywhere you go and you only use it to check the time, even though you wear a two-tone Cartier watch. And then the scars—you have scars on your chest and back. Why? Where did they come from?”
She pauses.
I suppose she’s waiting for me to respond, but I don’t say anything, so she lowers her fork and drops her head, sighing heavily. “Why do you carry a pocket watch everywhere you go?”
“Because someone special gave it to me.”
“Who?”
The silence is deafening. She has a valid point. I know this, but I don’t want to talk about these things. I really don’t. She doesn’t understand the pain I carry. She doesn’t know that Khenji Halifax is only a mask. He’s a man that has it all – the perfect life, the perfect home – the perfect everything. He’s the man everyone worships and looks up to as an elite professional. No one wants to meet the old me – not even me. So, why would I want to introduce her to this person?
“Khenji?”
I roll my eyes up to give her my attention, though I still don’t answer her. She massages her temples. Now, I’m adding to the headache she had from last night.
“Khenji, do you hear me talking to you or am I talking to myself?”
“I hear you.”
“Why won’t you answer my question?” she asks, flustered. I don’t know if she’s flustered because of her cycle or because I done pissed her off.
I say, “It was a gift from my mother. She told me her father gave it to her and she was supposed to pass it down to her daughter, but she never—well, she didn’t have a daughter. I’m her only child, so she passed it down to me.”
“May I see it?”
I’ve never allowed anyone to touch the pocket watch. Never. It represents my mother’s life. Her legacy. But I trust Livia and I want her to be a permanent part of my life, so I take it from my pocket and hand it to her.
She takes it from my grasp and says, “It’s heavier than it looks.”
“It is.”
She analyzes it closely and says, “It’s beautiful. You’ve taken good care of it. Your mother would be proud.”
She hands it back to me. I return it to my pocket, still feeling a heightened sense of unease.
“And what about the scars?” she asks.
“What about them?”
“Where did they come from?”
I sigh and say, “There’s no reason you need to know that, Livia.”
“And there’s no reason for you to keep it from me if you think I’m a woman you want to be with.”
My breathing increases as I picture the man who was responsible for giving me these scars. I remember what he did to me. What he did to my mother. I can’t run away from her anymore, so now what am I supposed to do? Sit here and relive these horrible experiences? I can’t do that.
I stand up.
She says, “Where are you going? Are you running away from me again?”
“No, I’m not running anywhere.”
“Then—”
“I told you I didn’t want to talk about it, Livia.”
“So we’re supposed to keep secrets from each other. Do you expect me to be okay with that?”
“No, but for what reason do you need to know about the scars other than to satisfy your own curiosity?”
“Because I love you.”
The frown on my forehead is a testament to the shock I’m experiencing by hearing her say those words. No woman besides my mother has ever uttered those words to me. I didn’t think it was possible for anyone to love me. Love wasn’t meant for people like me. I believed it when my father told me no one would ever love me. That I was stupid and crazy. He said I was an idiot – a nobody – and tried to convince me that my own mother didn’t love me. I believed him for a while until she gave me the pocket watch and told me there wasn’t a person on earth she loved more than me. She apologized to me for picking the wrong man to be my father. She apologized for what I had to endure. She had apologized to me the last day I heard her voice – the day he beat her.
I was supposed to live a quiet, nondescript life under the radar – kinda hard to do being a billionaire, but I took on the challenge. I stayed to myself. I was prepared to die alone.
And then she happened.
And she says she loves me.
“Khenji—”
I hear her call me, but I can’t seem to catch my breath. I reach for a glass of water but my hands are shaking so badly, I can’t pick up the glass.
I see things before my eyes.
I see my mother reminding me that it’s okay to let this woman into my life permanently. I also see a man wielding objects at me. I see the darkness I experienced years before. I see painful memories. I see misery and feel the emptiness of what used to be my life. It would be selfish to drag her into my world, but it’s too late. I gave her my heart from day one and now I know for sure that I have hers.
She gets up from her chair and comes to stand beside me. It wasn’t until she wiped the tear away from my eye that I realized one had fallen. She places her hands on my face and says, “Talk to me.”
I want to talk. I want to tell her my entire life story but all I say is, “I love you, too, Livia.”
She wraps her arms around my neck, then rises to her tiptoes and kisses me all over my face while I’m in a state of shock. I’m still crying, I believe, and she’s kissing my tears, healing me with her lips.
And I was supposed to be over here taking care of her…
What I notice is, nothing inside of me wants to pull away from her. I don’t cringe. I don’t feel like I can’t breathe while she’s giving me this loving attention. I feel like I can finally be free from my past and start something new and exciting with the woman I love. It’s me and Livia forever now and there’s no going back.