Ruth
Ihate this. Hate everything about it.
I know it’s a ridiculous way to feel—my job is great, my apartment is gorgeous, and the daycare I found for Birdie is somewhere I feel safe leaving her—but I can’t help it. I’m miserable.
And it’s my own stupid fault.
Because I went and fell in love with Tucker Bradshaw.
I knew better. I knew what he did and didn’t want when I met him. That’s the whole reason our paths crossed in the first place. I’ve got no one to blame but myself.
And I do blame myself. That chick is a freaking idiot.
“Snack?” Birdie is doing her best to avoid going to sleep, and I don’t blame her. I haven’t found going to sleep to be so much fun myself. Not when Tucker isn’t cuddled up next to me the way he was during our last two weeks together.
“You already had a snack.” I keep my tone gentle but firm as I pull the blankets up around her, tucking my little girl into the bed I nearly burst into tears over every day.
I should probably disassemble the thing and pack it up. Save myself the misery.
But it wouldn't really do me any good. There are reminders of him everywhere I look. The bathtub. Every sparrow that flies past my window. The swimming pool at the hotel where I work. The playground just a few steps away from our back door.
I’m ruined. Ruined by a man who made his stance very clear from the get-go, so I can’t even be mad at him.
Even though I am a little mad at him for making me love him.
That’s why, after getting Birdie all situated with her glowing musical lamp set to lull her to sleep, I go downstairs and head straight for the bottle of wine chilling in my fridge. It’s been a long week, and I need something to help me relax. Something to help me sleep.
Something to help me forget shaggy blond hair and dimpled grins.
I dig out the opener and pop the cork free. Holding the bottle by the neck, I consider it for a second before deciding that drinking from a glass will only add unnecessary dishes. After slinging a packet of extra butter popcorn into the microwave and setting it to pop, I down a few gulps of Chardonnay on my way into the living room. I have the remote in my hand, ready to turn on the show I’ve been trying to watch for two weeks, when my cell phone starts to ring.
My heart rate picks up, speeding along with the hope that I’ll see a familiar name populated on the screen. Tucker checks in on me every day, and it might be the only thing that’s keeping me going. Keeping me from sinking completely into despair.
But the number calling me now is an unfamiliar one. I’d love to let it go to voicemail, but the minute I do it will be one of my staff calling from their personal cell phone to tell me there’s an emergency at work.
Setting the bottle of wine on the coffee table, I swipe my phone off the surface, answering as I wander toward my nearly finished popcorn. “Hello?”
“Hello, Ruth.”
My whole body locks up, skin going cold as bile climbs up my throat. “How did you get this number?”
William chuckles, the sound dark and sinister and nothing like the easy-going laughter that once lured me into his web. “Have you forgotten who I am?”
I will never forget who he is. In some ways I wish I could. Want more than anything to erase him from my past. But that would also erase Birdie, and I would never give her up. No matter how much easier it would make my life. She’s mine. She is everything to me. And I will always make sure no one can hurt her. Including—and especially—the man on the other end of the line.
“What do you want, Bill?” I smirk a little at the use of the nickname, knowing how much he hates it. It makes him sound more simple. More common. More basic.
And Senator William Sheppard doesn’t want to be basic. Not ever again. I wish he was as ashamed of his affairs as he is of the way he grew up. Then maybe I wouldn’t be standing here trying not to shit myself.
“I just called to find out how you’re liking Maryland.” I can hear the anger in his voice. “And why the fuck you’re trying to cause problems for me.”
Fear crawls up my spine, bringing a chill along with it. “Leave me alone. I haven’t told anyone anything. I haven’t asked you for a dime, and I’m not going to.”
“You wouldn’t have to worry about that if you’d done what I told you to do in the first place.” His words are sharp and threatening. “But you just had to go and be a pain in the ass, didn’t you? This is all your own fault, Ruth. You brought it on yourself.”
I creep toward my front door, double checking the lock and the safety bar Tucker bought for it. “Just forget I exist, Bill. You’ve got a wife and a family to think about, remember?”
I can’t believe I ever fell for his bullshit. Can’t believe I was sonaïve and trusting. His story was so fucking cookie-cutter. The same regurgitated sob story every man looking to have an affair spews.
