“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 noway 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 thatsome guyhad 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.”