I was different now.
I would say I was stronger now, but a strong woman wouldn’t have gotten into this car. Even after the heartbreak and humiliation at the clubhouse.
A strong woman would’ve walked away from both men, the one that she loved and the one that had tormented her for years. A strong woman would’ve figured it out, would’ve carved out a new life for herself without either of those men.
I was not her.
So I’d gotten in the car with Preston. I had accepted defeat without a fight. I was thoroughly disgusted with myself.
“Kate.”
He spoke sharply now, my name cutting through my thoughts like a serrated knife, tearing at my already frayed consciousness. Panic was slowly setting in. The future yawned ahead of me.
Working on muscle memory, I obeyed the command threaded into my name. The threat.
He was staring at me intently.
We were no longer driving.
In fact, we were parked in the lot of a hotel.
Not a roadside motel. Nothing fancy either because we were still in a remote part of New Mexico. It was the most expensive the area had to offer, to be sure.
How had I not noticed we were parked? That we’d pulled off the highway? Sinking so deep into myself was not a luxury I could afford. Not with Preston. I had to be alert. On guard.
I had to obey. Shrink back into the mold he’d made for me.
Already, the edges cut into my skin, drawing blood.
“You have to understand what I’ve been going through these past months,” he said when he had my attention, his tone no longer as harsh.
“You have to understand what I’ve had to tell people,” he continued. “The lies I’ve had to tell my parents.” He took his hands from the careful ten and two position to swirl his wedding ring. His fury thrummed through my bones, despite his even expression, his tender tone. “The lies I had to tell our daughter,” he gritted out.
My eyes slid to his hands which were back on the steering wheel, at ten and two. His knuckles were white.
The mention of Violet turned my stomach. Icy fingers of dread clutched my heart. My own hands were fisted on my thighs as I forced myself not to throw up in the car. Preston would not appreciate me making that kind of mess.
“Everyone has been worried about you,” he murmured. His eyes trailed down my body, mouth pursed in distaste. “And they had a right to be. This little…break from reality can be explained, though.” He took a long sigh. “It can be fixed.” His eyes found mine once more. “You can be fixed. Some diet and exercise, a trip to the salon. Yes, it can be fixed.” I wasn’t sure whether he was talking to me or himself, going through the list of things that needed to be done in order to turn me back into the Stepford Wife he’d created.
“I can forgive you,” he declared. “We will go back to our life. We will have another baby. Everything will go back to how it was.”
My nails cut into the insides of my palms. I didn’t feel the pain, even though I felt the stickiness of the blood I’d drawn.
My throat swelled up, my lungs burning to the point where I started seeing black dots in my vision.
“Now, I’m tired,” he said evenly. “Because I spent hours driving here. Days, actually. Because I’ve had months of sleepless nights, worrying about you.”
His hand landed on my thigh.
My skin burned from his touch, but I didn’t react. Couldn’t. I was paralyzed by his words.
“But I don’t have to worry anymore.” He was staring straight ahead. “Because I have you back. And I won’t let you leave me again.”
It was a threat. A death sentence.
“Now, you’re going to wait in the car while I get us a room.”
He squeezed my thigh harder.