“Altitude, flying, vomiting. Your body will hate you for asecond.”
I lift my glass in toast and offer a fake smile after the waiter walks away. “A third.”
“You left. You left me and didn’t tell me where you were going.”
“And yet, you’re here.” I take a generous sip of the terrible wine. “I’m assuming the cameras told you what you need to know.” My emphasis on the word cameras is not lost on him.
“And your phone.” He gestures to my device near the cutlery.
If I come unglued at the airport, is it a problem? On a plane, sure, I get it. But inside the airport, will that get me put in airport jail or is it the county who handles me? Me losing my shit might be worth it.
“I’m waiting, Wifey,” he damn near sing-songs.
“For what, William?” I hiss.
“For you to lay it all out there and tell me what’s on your mind. For you, uncensored, to let it fly.”
Three. Two. One.
Kaboom.
“Well, you asked for it.” Rolling my shoulders back, I lift my chin. My will is steel and my voice is ice. “After those men violated the sanctity of my house. My safety crumbled. My security shattered. Instead of being protected inside the walls of my home, you spied on me, watched me, and desecrated my privacy. I didn’t know you. It’s disgusting and it’s violating. I can’t imagine you”—I gesture to his broad chest and imposing stature—“know what it’s like to feel unsafe or small?—”
“Sir, your salad. Miss, your wine. May I get you anything else? No?” The waiter scurries off before we can answer, knowing the time bomb that’s about to detonate.
“I want you to picture the most scared you’ve ever been, ratchet that up by ten, and assume you have no way out. Are you with me?”
He nods.
“Now assume the person who put you in that position is actually enjoyable, funny, kind, protective, and handsome.” Fudgesicle, I did not mean to say that. “Assume you relaxed enough that you trust him. But every single day the situation you’re in gets more and more dire, so much so you cannot think or scheme your way out. You have to trust someone. Just one person. Because you only get one. And because you’ll lose your mind if you’re left all alone in the dark. Now assume that person, instead ofhelping you and being who you think they are, pulls the rug out from underneath you and throws you into freefall. Feels good right? Do you feel safe, William? Do you like the danger you feel? Do your feet feel solid below you? No? Maybe we should add some more to it. Let’s assume you can’t escape it. Can’t go home. Let’s also assume you have nowayto escape. You’re stuck and the one person”—I lift a finger to his face—“that one person you trusted ended up being the villain of the story instead of the hero. What then? How the hell do you react? Do you sit and take it? Accept it? Welcome it?” I drop my voice. “I don’t think you know. I don’t think you have any fucking clue.”
His head jerks back with my f-bomb.
Nevertheless, I continue, “What it’s like to bethatvulnerable. To bethatafraid. And to be thatstuck. That’s me letting it fly. You’re you. You’re huge and hulking. The tattoos, the eyebrow piercing, the shaved head tell the world a story you want them to see. The thing is, it’s only a partial truth. You are that man. Big, burly, formidable, scary. But you’re also what Sariah said, the roots of a family that anchors them so they can soar. Maybe you’re the one who isn’t so brave. Maybe this”—I lift my hand up to his neck before pushing the air down—“façade is just a costume. Mine isn’t as pretty, but?—”
“Stop.” The word is a dagger in my rant.
“Why? I thought we were laying it all out there. I thought we were gettingraw.”
“You proved your point. Really well. And repeatedly. I was wrong and I’m sorry.”
“How many?” I interject, not allowing his words to be a balm to my wounds.
“How many what?”
“Cameras.”
He bites his bottom lip.
“Where are they? Did you watch me—” I throw a hand over my mouth. He didn’t, did he? He wouldn’t. Please tell me he wouldn’t.
He lifts his thick palm and looks around therestaurant where people have begun to stare. “Front steps, back yard, kitchen, dining, and living room. There’s nothing from the mouth of the hall back.”
My shoulders slump. Thank God.
“Why?”
His head tilts, and he looks to his salad in question before stabbing a bite. “I didn’t want trouble on my doorstep.”
