Page 48 of The Strength Of A Woman

I don’t trust men, as a rule. They taught me not to trust them. Not once had they shown me something different.

A reason to think highly of them.

But somehow, I trust him.

Or maybe I’m so attracted to him that I really don’t care if he proves to be just another deceitful man.

My feet hurt, are sore, and I’m pretty sure my skin has split open, and drops of blood trickle over the straps of my Roman flat sandals.

I totally forgot about my bum.

Finally, the lights of the city shine brightly not far from me.

I’m still not sure whether to tell Callum how I got that name, about Julian’s actions.

What if he gets mad and acts on his fury, revealing the connection between us, jeopardizing everything?

I can’t be on home arrest for the next two weeks.

They won’t let me out.

No matter what happens, it’s always my fault.

They always blame me.

What if, after these two weeks, they sell me to that stupid man, and this is, in fact, my last night of freedom?

Please, please, I can’t have that.

A few minutes later, I walk to the place where I met him this afternoon.

Fewer people are on the streets at this hour.

It’s so nice outside––the perfect time and weather to walk down the street and share a kiss with someone. Trail down the shore and watch the rain of stars across the sky.

These are dreams for people who are not me.

All I know is that I need to find the building where he lives.

I stop and look around, hoping someone on his crew is having a late-night snack or a glass of Grappa.

Something.

I spot a few men wearing suits.

Sadly, they have company and look like tourists. Maybe they celebrate something. Who knows?

I move my attention away from them and keep walking, checking every door, every place that is still open, every table where people linger.

There’s no trace of him.

And then a thought I despise and resent pops up in my head.

He must be with that woman.

Oh, no. Fuck no.

This is not the time.