Page 41 of Sinful Abandon

“You’re scared,” he says. His words reek of desperation and determination.

“Petrified.” I open my eyes and look up into his, those eyes the color of the most beautiful waters of the world.

“Nothing in this world is worth doing unless it scares you a little.”

He kisses me again, and I fall into him. Not wanting to let go. Not wanting this moment to cease.

Flashbacks of a childhood I never asked for haunt my mind. Of being locked in my room so that I wouldn’t get in the way. Waking up in the morning to no food in the house. Going to school and being laughed at for my ragged appearance. Stealing and getting arrested at twelve years old and then getting hit by my father for being stupid enough to get caught. Running away from home and sleeping in my car at sixteen. Showering in the locker room before anyone knew I didn’t have a place to live. Working three shifts while in college so that I could afford braces. Transforming my life, becoming like the women I idolized on TV.

Not wanting to be my father. Not wanting to be my mother.

Swearing to never let a man destroy me again. Making sure I not only had money, but also making sure I’d never have to worry about it again.

I was never going back.

And, in the end, what have I become?

A cold, heartless woman who seeks out men for money.

I hate who I am.

Ryan looks at me like I am something special. But I’m not. He deserves more. He deserves someone who has love in her heart, someone who didn’t connive others in order to get to where she is today.

He deserves better.

“I’m sorry, Ryan.” I step back and shake off the remorse I feel for everything I’ve put him through. “I shouldn’t have come out tonight.”

His face falls, his eyes wide with panic. “Don’t do this, Heather. We’re supposed to be together. I know you feel it.”

He takes a step toward me, and I take three steps further back, my hands stretched out in front of me. His eyes redden with tears he doesn’t allow to fall.

“I love you, Heather.”

My breath gets caught in my lungs. I can’t breathe. My chest is constricted, my body cold as steel. No one has ever said those words to me before, and I vow to make his the last I hear.

“I wish I could say the same.”

I walk away, leaving Ryan alone on a darkened beach.

I walk away from his arms, the first place I ever felt at home.

Bless me, Father, for I have sinned.

I just lied to the first man I’ve ever loved.

“Heather, love, come on in.”

I walk into Jarrod’s office and close the door behind me. He’s awfully chipper for a Monday morning.

Or perhaps I’m just glum.

Not getting out of bed all day, watching heartbreaking romance movies, made for a poor excuse of a Sunday. I only watched films where one of the main characters would die—Love Story, The English Patient, Titanic, Ghost, West Side Story. I had to put extra hemorrhoid ointment on the bags under my eyes to contain the puffiness that followed after a day of ugly crying.

Looking at Jarrod at his desk, the same desk I caught him screwing Misty Waters on a month ago, makes me ill.

“You told Meg you needed me to review something.” I want to get to work and get on with my life.

Jarrod’s handsome face looks over to me, taking in my appearance. “You look like something the cat dragged in. Where’s my always put-together fiancée? Now that we’re engaged, I expect you to be dressed to the nines. And this”—he motions to my face that is splotchy from a day of crying over love stories—“is not the woman who is to be my wife.”