

Passionate Deceptions - Revelations

A Suspenseful Romance

By

Laila Cole

Mailing List: http://eepurl.com/bqLWpf

MsLailaCole@gmail.com

Copyright 2015 by Laila Cole

All Rights Reserved

ISBN: 978-1514812341

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author's imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses or establishments, events, or locales, is entirely coincidental.

Ultimately love is everything.

M. Scott Peck

Table Of Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 1 – Jennifer

"Miss? Miss? Can you hear me?"

I opened my eyes slowly to find that the world was a blur, the sounds surrounding me like I was caught at the end of a tunnel and listening to echoes. An ache the size of Texas blistered across my forehead. I squinted to try and make sense out of where I was and made out the contours of two men standing above me.

"Miss, can you hear me?"

I said nothing because I couldn't.

"I need you to blink if you can hear me."

I blinked once; I didn't have enough energy to do it twice.

"Very good. My name is James Winters, and my partner is Jeffrey Smith. We are EMT's. You've been in a car accident and we're taking you to the hospital. Please blink if you understand me."

I blinked once more, and with that my blurred world began to shift as they pushed me on a stretcher, the wheels of it scraping along the black asphalt below. He thrust me into an ambulance and slid my stretcher into the bay.

I tried to speak again. "Wh-wh-where is he?" I muttered under my breath.

"Mam, please stay quiet and let us help you. You've sustained a head injury. We've got your neck and body stabilized. I need you to relax and let me work."

Jeff slammed the ambulance doors shut. James grabbed my right arm and put a large bore IV into my vein. "These are just fluids to keep you hydrated, for now." The coolness of the liquid rushed through me. I hated needles. The sounds around me began to normalize and my vision sharpened as I came back to the land of the living. The whaling sounds of the ambulance blocked out everything else as we sped off down the freeway, every thump of the wheels against the road perceptible.

As I relaxed I began to panic. "The man I was with. Where is he?" I said, struggling to talk.

"Miss, you need to relax. We're almost to the hospital."

I begged them. The thought of his fate causing me more panic than my own. "Tell me. Is he ok?"

"Mam, I need you to keep quiet until the medical team has evaluated you. We don't have the information you're seeking."

I shut my mouth and tried to replay the last few hours in my mind. I couldn't remember anything about a car accident, but I remembered Damien's face, his smile, and my aching need for him. "Damien!" I cried out. But this time no one responded, not even a comforting word from the EMT's.

The sirens stopped crying right after I did. The EMT pushed the ambulance door open to reveal a team of doctors waiting for me at the hospital's intake. James pulled me out the ambulance and stabilized my stretcher. He gave a rundown to the doctor on my suspected injuries and helped wheel me into the hospital as an entire medical team began to evaluate me for injuries. They pressed my body, felt my bones and inspected my flesh. I'd of felt violated if I hadn't just dodged death.

A doctor approached me. "Hey there, how're you doing?"

"I-I'm ok," I said, holding me head as it continued to ache.

"Do you have some pain in your head?" he said.

I nodded. "A little."

"I'd be surprised if you didn't. My name is Dr. Joseph and I will be assisting you today. I want you to follow this light with your eyes, ok?"

"Ok," I said.

He ran a penlight left and right across my eyes and I was able to track it. "Very good. Can you tell me your name?"

"Jennifer Davenport."

"Very good, Jennifer. Do you remember what happened to you?"

"Not really. Kind of." The memories of the accident slowly started to fill my mind as I imagined Damien hanging lifeless in his seatbelt in our overturned vehicle with blood dripping from his face like a fountain.

"That's ok. It's obviously early, but by the looks of it you've sustained a concussion, and a bad one at that. We're going to take some pictures of your brain but as far as major trauma goes, I think you're going to be ok. You've sustained no broken bones, just some bruising, and as far as we can tell you have no internal injuries. It's a good thing you were wearing your seatbelt. The CT will tell us more but that's what we know. I'm optimistic."

I tried to stay calm, I did. But I still hadn't been informed about the fate of my lover. It chewed at my mind. I pointed at the doctor to get his attention. "Where was the man I was with taken?"

The doctor looked down at me. "Man? I don't understand."

"Damien. He was driving. Is he ok?"

He looked down at me confused, his eyebrows scrunched up. "They only pulled one body from that wreck and it was you."

"That's not possible!" I said, but the moment I raised my voice it just made my head ache further. I gripped my forehead as my ratcheting stress ratcheted the pain in my head.

The nurse left the room and returned, pulling out a syringe and injected it into a v-shaped port in my IV line. "That ought to make you feel better. Now try and relax." The moment it hit my system a glaze enveloped my entire body. Morphine. I could hardly speak. I became compliant as they wheeled me into the CT room. I couldn't keep my eyes open a moment longer and passed out.

Chapter 2 – Jennifer

A week or so ago

I took a deep breath as I prepared to open the front door to my home. I almost didn't want to go in. I couldn't stand the thought of another fight with Steven. He was a rageaholic, and I knew that when I married him, but over the course of the last year he'd become an alcoholic too. It was a dangerous mix that left me unsettled and scared. But below all of that misery was a long history, after all he was still my husband and I loved him.

A year prior after ten years together in the DEA he'd lost his partner Erick Cornejo on the Mexico-California border in a drug bust gone south, and he hadn't taken it well. I tried to support him, I tried to help him, but he wouldn't have it. At every turn I was cast aside and belittled as he sunk further and further into a soul crushing depression that left him a shell of the man I once knew. A man I hoped to see again.

I opened the door to find him sitting on the couch and staring at the TV, yelling at the conservative news station covering the riots in Baltimore. An ice-cold bottle of IPA was in in hands, as usual, with twelve other empties piled up on the coffee table like a brown glass wall. He looked up at me. "What are you doing here this early?"

"It's 6pm. I live here," I said. "Lose track of time in all that ale?" He laughed and took a swig of his beer. I placed my purse on the coffee table in front of our brown leather couch. "Steve, we need to talk okay?"

He laughed again and chugged the rest of his beer. "Ain't much to talk about," he pointed to the beer bottles and cleared his straw blonde hair from his eyes. "This is who I am, if you don't like it then you can leave."

"Oh, there's plenty to talk about and I'm not going anywhere." The fact was when we got hitched I made a vow to him that I'd stand by him for better or worse. And I intended to keep that promise, regardless of what he threw in my direction. Deep down he was a good man once you stripped away his demons.

He paused for a second and stared at me with a drunken gaze. "Stay then," he said. "Stay and boss me around like you enjoy so much."

Steven didn't understand that me trying to help him was born in my commitment to our marriage. I hated when he doubted our relationship, or my commitment to helping him. "I will. I heard the border is heating up again on the news. Have you been paying attention? The same guys that killed Erick are still out there, aren't they?"

His eyes filled with fury and rage. "Excuse you?"

"You heard me. Yet here you are drowning in ale, as usual."

"All you give a shit about is money! You don't give a fuck about me, or what I've been through."

"That's not true! Listen, I don't make enough for us to survive on an administrative assistant's paycheck! Your disability ran out a month ago and we've got bills to pay. And all you do instead of getting back out there is to sit and drink beer, all day. It's only holding us back!"

"You don't know what I've been through!" he yelled.

"I do, but you don't give me any credit for it!"

"Really?" he said. "So you know what it's like to find your partner shot point blank in the head, and how it feels to inform his wife and family that he's been killed in the line of duty?"

"That's not what I'm saying. I understand what you've gone through because I've seen what it's done to you. Babe, you're better than this! Can't you see that?"

He took another swig from his beer and put it on the coffee table. "I'm not better than shit. I should have saved him from those cartel bastards."

"Babe, just let it go! It wasn't your fault. Can't you see that holding on to all of this anger is killing you? I'm not pushing you to work just because of the money. I'm pushing you because I'm tired of seeing you like this."

My heart began to pound. He stood up and walked toward me, his face riddled with rage, his soulful blue eyes as piercing as ever. For the first time in our relationship I was almost certain he was going to hit me. "I'll go back when I'm good and fucking ready!"

He turned and walked to the fridge and I followed him. He pulled out another bottle of ale and opened it with the dull side of a knife. He took a huge swig of it and rubbed the foam from his lips.

"What would Erick say if he saw you like this?"

He pointed the knife at me before he slammed it on the granite counter. "You watch your fucking mouth!" He threw the half full bottle against the wall behind me and it exploded into a million pieces covering our wooden floor with shards of glass and suds. He walked toward me until the stench of hoppy beer was evident on his breath. "I'm going to say this once, and only once. Don't you ever talk to me like that again. Do you understand me?"

He returned to the fridge to open up another beer as I choked up with tears. "Why are you saying this to me?" He'd never spoken to me in this way, but the rage and booze were mixing in a dangerous brew. After everything I'd done for him, he was so resistant to change, or even a comforting touch. He'd changed, and I didn't know if the man I still loved was in there once you stripped away the booze and regret.

He laughed and took a swig of ale. "I'll say whatever the hell I want. Now get out of my face and leave me alone." He walked back to the couch and stretched out on the chaise.

I ran to our room with tears in my eyes, slammed the door and texted my co-worker Susan Smith, a fellow administrative assistant at Schuster and Sons. "What are you doing tonight? I need to get out of the house and talk." She was the only one of the fellow assistants that I trusted not to spread rumors.

She responded almost immediately. "That bad huh?"

"Worse."

"Oh dear. Are you sure you can get out tonight? Or is he going crazy again? Let me know if I need to call the cops."

"No cops! I don't know. I have to wait for him to pass out. He's really, really drunk. I can probably squeeze out at 9PM?"

"That works. Meet me at the bar in the W hotel downtown. We'll talk. Love you."

"Ok. I'll see you there." A sense of relief rushed through me. I needed a friend, and I had one.

I stayed in our room that once was full of love and sat on the corner of our bed, my face in my hands, crying my eyes out. It hadn't always been so bad. We'd been together ten years, seven of them amazing, two of them troubled, and one of them downright awful. Our relationship was hanging by a thread and I didn't even know if Steven cared enough to sustain it. I hated being the only one trying. It left me feeling empty and alone as I chased for a glimmer of hope that we'd get back to the way it was in those first seven years, but every day that passed that glimmer of hope got dimmer.

I understood that he'd been wounded by the loss of his partner and suffering from PTSD, but what I didn't understand is why he would push me away when all I wanted to do was help him. It seemed so counter-intuitive, so I reasoned that he'd become comfortable in his misery, but I refused to join him. The higher road for us both was me pulling him out of the mire and I was determined to do so.

8:30 PM rolled around and I slipped into a hip hugging black dress, released my ponytail so that my brown locks draped over my shoulders, and applied a thin coat of red lipstick to my lips. A black pair of Jimmy Choos Steven had given me as a gift five years prior caught my eye in the closet. I kicked off my flip-flops and slipped into them. I felt hot, hot enough to hang out with Susan who always looked immaculate.

Susan was an interesting woman. She'd always been my good friend and trusted confidant. She was younger than me by 2 years at 32; she had never been married but went through men like a hot knife through butter. Her raven black hair, young face, and sultry lips were weapons and she employed them. As much as I wanted to look down upon her non-traditional ways, I couldn't. Oddly enough, I respected her for her differences.

I checked my look one last time in the mirror. My eyes were swollen from the near constant flow of tears an hour earlier. I hoped by the time I made it to the bar they'd look normal again. As much as I trusted Susan, I didn't want her to see me like this. I didn't want to make her worry more than she already did.

I tip toed passed Steven who was passed out on the side of the couch and snoring, and headed toward my run down, oil gobbling 2005 Toyota Tercel parked in our driveway, and drove downtown. It only took a few minutes to get there from Bayho. I walked into the W hotel and was taken aback at how dead it was, but then again it was Thursday.

Susan was sitting at the bar sipping on a martini. I watched a Japanese businessmen approach her and get summarily rejected. She was merciless as he walked away with his head hung low. My eyes caught hers from across the room and she smiled. "Jennie!" she yelled, walking toward me like a top model on her neon blue heels that matched an equally bright blue dress. Dammit she looked hot. No matter what I wore I always ended up looking plain compared to her.

I smiled back, trying to hide the negative emotions bubbling just underneath my flesh. I scanned her up and down. "Damn you look hot."

She brought her martini glass up to her mouth and took a sip. "Thank you. And that black number on you? Girl, goddamn! Come on baby, let me buy you a drink and let's talk."

I followed her to the bar, she didn't hesitate to order for me, and she knew exactly what I wanted. "Vodka cranberry, on the rocks," she said.

The curly haired bartender wearing a bowtie smiled in return. "Coming right up, Miss." He began to make my drink without hesitation.

But as happy as I was to see her, my emotions started to bubble up. A tear slipped out of corner of my eye and I brushed it away quickly to prevent my mascara from running.

She lightly touched my shoulder. "Aww. Come on Jen, tell me what happened. Are the two of you ok? Couples fight you know?"

I sobbed a bit. "Not Iike this they don't. I want to believe we're ok, but he is in a horrible place mentally. Please don't repeat what I'm about to tell you."

"Ok, I promise. I won't. What is it?"

The bartender delivered my drink on a small white napkin and I took a sip. "Thank you," I said to him, and turned back to Susan. "For the first time since I've known him I stopped believing he wouldn't hurt me. I saw a look in his eyes I just can't explain. He threw a beer bottle at me."

"Really?" she said in a state of shock. "I never took him as the type."

"I know. He's not, he's really not. He's just never gotten over the loss of his partner. He blames himself and then he punishes himself, only now I'm the collateral damage taking shrapnel."

Susan looked me dead in the eyes. "Jen baby, I hate to ask you this, so please don't be mad."

"Ok," I said.

"Are you thinking of leaving him?"

I was appalled by the question. "Excuse me? No! That is not an option. We will get through this!"

"I only ask because I'm honestly scared for you sweetie. It's not right that he treats you like this. You deserve so much more. You're a beautiful, smart, and classy woman. He needs to see that, there are other men who will and will treat you as such."

I took another sip of my drink and felt the booze began to numb my emotional pain. "You're right. But I never made vows with any of those men."

She smiled at me. "Damn you are one tough bitch! And I mean that with the best of intentions."

I laughed, clearing the mist from my eyes. "I know. A weaker woman would have been gone long ago, huh?"

"Umm, yea!" she said, taking another sip of her martini. "But I respect your decision to stay. Lord knows I kick 'em out too quick."

I couldn't help but laugh. She always had a way of making me feel better. I finished my drink, when out of nowhere the bartender delivered me another vodka cranberry. I looked up at him surprised. "I didn't order this."

"You're right. You didn't." He pointed down the bar to a Hispanic man as striking as I'd ever seen who stared at me and smiled. "He did." He was wearing a grey wool business suit and a light gray tie, his brown eyes like two glimmering marbles, his black hair slicked back.

"Really?" I said in a state of shock and confusion. I looked at Susan. "Did you set this up?"

She shook her head and laughed. "No, babe. That's all you."

I looked at the bartender. "Send it back. I'm married."

The bartender smiled and carried the drink back to the man at the other end of the bar. Susan grabbed my arm. "Are you crazy? That guy is like super hot."

"He's all yours. I'm taken." A mischievous grin erupted on her face. "Are you sure?"

"I am." But just as I said that, the man stood up and walked toward me, his gaze magnetic as my eyes refused to look anywhere but in his. My heart pounded as he approached. With a smile he spoke. "If I'd have known you were going to be such a challenge I would have sprung for something more expensive."

Susan clamored. "Oh-my-god. I will leave you two alone." She stood up and quietly disappeared to the lobby of the hotel as the man inched a little bit closer.

With a conversation now unavoidable I grasped for the right words. "More expensive? Like what?" I said it with a smile though my nerves had never been more frayed.

"Blue Label Johnnie Walker always goes down smooth." He pulled out a stool from under the bar and sat right next to me.

"I'm sorry mister, I'm taken."

"Well at least let me introduce myself?" He held out his hand toward mine. "I'm Damien Hernandez, and it's a pleasure to meet you."

I hesitantly shook his hand; his grip was firm, his hands strong. For a split second I imagined them massaging the stress from my shoulders, though I halted those guilty visions as quickly as they'd started. "I'm Jennifer Davenport. What brings you to San Diego?"

"Business. As usual," he laughed. "My entire life revolves around airports and hotels."

I caught vulnerability in his eyes as he spoke. "Tough. I wouldn't enjoy that. What's your business?"

"Well, it's not as simple as that. I run multiple businesses for a large conglomerate. I am in the area closing a deal, and to be honest with you, it's going to be my last."

"Last?" I said.

"Yes. I'm retiring."

I looked him up and down. He wasn't a day over 40. "Yes, retire because you're so old."

He laughed. "I'm looking forward to a new chapter in my life, one that doesn't revolve around midnight conference calls, red-eye flights, and never ending stress." He waived down the bartender who came quickly. "May I have two Blue Label Johnnie Walkers, neat? On second thought, make them doubles."

"Absolutely," the bartender said. He fixed our drinks, sliding them toward us.

I was hesitant to grab mine, not wanting to give him the wrong idea, and knowing that Blue Label Johnnie Walker was so far out of my price range I'd never be able to pay him back. "It seems like you've got a great job, but you're not happy?"

"It's not that I'm not happy, it's the occupational hazard from all of the stress. Life can't be only about money and power. I want stability and a family, none of which this position affords me. I haven't been home to Manhattan in four weeks." He paused. "Enough about me. Has anyone ever told you how beautiful you are?"

I blushed, and after the excitement wore off, I realized that aside from Susan I hadn't been told I was beautiful in a long, long time. I finally took a sip of the whiskey before responding, and did so quietly. "No."

"That's a shame," he said, brushing a strand of hair away from my forehead. "Clearly you deserve better."

I began to sweat. I took another sip of the whiskey, noting how smooth it was. "Thanks for the whiskey, it's a real treat. Listen, I don't want to lead you on, I have a husband."

He smiled. "I know. You've only been talking about him all night."

I snapped at him. "And you don't care?"

He shrugged his shoulders. "Should I?"

I nodded, and took another sip of whiskey. "You most certainly should."

"I'm perplexed," he said.

"At what?"

"At you. You're here with a friend, you've been crying, and you're dressed to kill. What with the tears and all... I don't mean to pry, but is everything ok at home?"

I took a big gulp of whiskey and coughed. "My personal life is none of your business." Offended that he'd gone there I decided to wiggle out of the conversation. "Listen, it's been fun talking to you, and thanks for the drink, but I've got to go catch up with my friend."

He nodded. "Well that's disappointing. I know I'm a stranger, but I'm a good listener if you want to talk. I've always found it easier to talk to strangers when I'm in need, but that's just me."

"How convenient," I snapped. "Goodbye Damien." I shot the rest of the whiskey down my throat and slammed the glass on the table. I turned and walked toward the lobby where an attractive businessman was showering Susan with attention and affection.

Damien addressed me from behind as I walked toward Susan. "You don't really want to leave, you just think you have to."

I turned around in a state of shock. "Excuse you?" I didn't know if I was offended, angry, flattered, or all three combined. I was flummoxed. No man had ever been so forward with me.

"You heard me," he said, walking toward me with the most confident stride I'd ever seen. "I can see it in your eyes, swollen as they are from the tears your husband has put you through. The last place you want to end up tonight is back home."

"Really?" I snapped. "And I suppose you have no vested interest in where I go tonight, do you?"

"Only if you come with me," he said with a smile.

"Do you always get everything you want?"

"Always," he said, pulling a keycard from his wool suit jacket and handing it to me. "I'm in the penthouse, join me? The views of the city are incredible." He stared me right in the eyes, not saying another word as he waited for me to accept his proposal.

My resolve weakened as a thick silence lay between us. I grabbed the keycard from his hands and looked at it, legitimately considering his offer, but I was better than an adulteress and my husband needed me. I handed it back to him. "I'm married Damien, and those vows mean something to me, regardless of what I'm going through."

"I don't care. Deep down he'll never treat you like I will, and then again you'll never know. You're too busy hanging on to the exact thing which makes you miserable."

"You don't know anything about my marriage or me! And you should care because how we uphold the vows and the promises we make to others is reflective of who we are as people. I will never break my vows to my husband and especially not with a man I've just met who thinks they can buy my affection with an overpriced whiskey!"

"Jennifer, when I want something I go after it, and I never stop until I get it. I understand if you want to leave, or if you find me too forward, but I won't let up until you're mine." He pulled out a business card from his suit pocket and handed it to me. "Call me whenever you want, even if you just want to talk. I'd be delighted to hear from you, any time, any place. I leave San Diego for New York City in the morning." He let out a sigh of relief. "God it's going to be nice to get home."

I took his business card and noted the tasteful, modern design of it. "I'm never going to call you, but if it makes you feel better I'll keep your card."

He smiled. "You'll call."

I put the card into a secret pocket in my purse. Shocked at his arrogance I headed toward the lobby to meet Susan. She was now alone, running her index finger along the rim of her martini glass. I turned back to look for Damien but he'd disappeared.

Susan's eyes lit up as I approached. "Tell me everything!"

"Ugh! What an arrogant, cocky son-of-a-bitch! The things that came out of his mouth you wouldn't believe!"

She laughed. "What's his story? He looked loaded."

"He is. Money is not his problem."

She looked surprised that I'd turned him away; perhaps forgetting that I wasn't a free spirit like herself. "Then what's the problem? He's a knight in shining armor if I've ever seen one, and my god was he into you!"

I smiled. "The problem? I'm married."

"You're right, that is the problem. You're married to an asshole."

"Come on Susan, that's not what I meant. Please just let it go. I don't want to feel any worse than I already do."

"I understand." She finished her drink. "Are you ready to get out of here?"

"Yea, I'm ready. I hope Steven isn't awake when I get back. If he sees me in this dress he's going to flip."

"Remember you can always text me if you need anything." Her eyes caught those of another man at the bar. "Don't wait up. I'm going to talk to this one." She winked at me. "Who knows where it will lead, but I'm hoping his bed," she whispered.

I never understood how she could randomly sleep with a stranger, but more power to her. "Good luck, but with a dress like that you don't need it."

Susan meandered toward the dark haired stranger at the bar and I went back to my Toyota Tercel, hesitantly opening the door and firing up the engine. God dammit I didn't want to go home!

Chapter 3 – Jennifer

My heart was pounding as I pulled into my driveway. It was 2AM, and I had stayed out far longer than I'd planned. In only a few short hours I'd have to get up for another brutal day at the office dealing with my boss, who was, by any rubric imaginable, an asshole to nth degree.

I opened the door quietly to find the living room lights on. Steven was not on the couch passed out, but was instead staring right at me, a 375 milliliter bottle of Jack Daniels in his hand, half consumed. "Where in the hell were you?" he said, stumbling toward me. He looked me up and down. "You look like a fucking slut!"

I started to cry and began to hyperventilate. "I went out with Susan. Please don't be angry."

The stench of booze was thick on his breath. "Susan? Yea right, who did you see? Is there another man?"

"No. I would never cheat on you and you know that! It was just Susan and me. We talked, that's it."

He took a nip off the whiskey bottle. "I don't believe you!"

My hands began to shake. "We're married remember? You're supposed to trust me."

"Well I don't!" He stumbled backward.

I looked into his eyes, searching for the man I once loved but he just wasn't there. I shook my head in dismay at the realization he was a stranger. "Who are you?" I sobbed. "I want my husband back!"

"Well he isn't coming back! He's been gone for a long time, just like my partner."

"You're punishing yourself for no reason! It's not your fault baby, please. Once you understand that all of this pain will end!"

"Don't you dare tell me how to feel!"

"I'll tell you whatever I want!" I could see in his eyes that he was self-conscious, knowing that the man he'd turned into was pushing me away, but at the same time he was so trapped in the vicious machinations of his mind that he couldn't stop it.

"Look at you. You're not my wife; you're just some slut parading around town in that whore dress looking for my replacement. I can't trust you as far as I can see you." He sucked another bit of whiskey from his bottle.

I couldn't breathe. I became dizzy. No man had ever spoken to me in such a way, and my husband or not, I wasn't going to let him do it again. He crowded me against the wall. I looked to the door handle plotting my escape, it was still open.

"What the hell are you looking at?" he said.

He walked to the door and slammed it shut, locking the deadbolt. "I'm not done with you yet."

"Please just stop! I'm not your enemy!"

"You're a liar." He pulled his spare hand up, and with the back of it struck me across the face so hard I stumbled, falling to my knees as the iron rich taste of blood filled my mouth. I looked up at him in fear. Steven was a monster and it was then that I saw that he was capable of anything.

He took another swig of his whiskey. "Get up!"

I began to shiver uncontrollably.

"Get up!" he screamed, reiterating his rage down toward me.

I did as he asked and he smacked me again, leaving a rapidly swelling bruise on my eye socket that obstructed my vision. I waited in silence, every muscle and bone frozen in place as pain radiated through my face. From some bastion of strength inside of me my mouth opened, and words I never thought possible escaped. "Steven, I want a divorce."

At that moment, realizing the magnitude of his actions, and the loss of my undying love, something clicked in his mind, his facial expression changed from anger to sorrow in an instant. He began to sob and threw the bottle of whiskey into the kitchen where it shattered on the floor. He collapsed to the ground in front of me, his hands clasped together. "Please don't leave me baby I am so sorry for what I've done. I'm a mess and I take it out on you, it's not right. But if you divorce me you mine as well put a bullet in my head like Erick. You have to forgive me, you just have to!"

I looked at his groveling face. "No, Steven. I don't. One day I will forgive you, but this isn't right. This isn't a relationship, and it sure as shit isn't a marriage."

"I can make it up to you. I can!"

He began to panic. He stood up and tried to stroke my face, as if he could make it better. I pulled away. "Don't touch me!" I snapped.

"Stay there, please don't go." He stumbled toward the refrigerator trying to make me a cold compress out of a few ice cubes and a washcloth, but mostly just spilled stray ice cubes into the mix of glass and whiskey strewn about the tile floor.

Steven returned to me placing the cold compress on my face. "Stop!" I yelled. "Just leave me alone I need time to think."

His sobbing intensified as he came face to face with the rapidly swelling bruises on my face. "Jesus Christ baby I'll never hit you again. This, this has gone too far! I promise you baby, I will be the husband you remember. Please just give me another chance. I swear on my life I will change."

"Forget it. I don't want your help!" I took the compress he'd made me and held it to my face. He sulked away into our room, stumbling toward the hallway. I looked at my watch, it was 3:00 AM and the workday was closing fast. I was out of sick, vacation, and personal days already having to deal with Steven, and I was going to have to go in.

I cried some more, shocked at how I'd allowed myself to get into a situation like this. I'd watch my friends deal with abuse; I'd even counseled them through it. I recognized the cycle forming as he beat me down and pulled me back in. One thing was certain, counseling a friend through abuse was far simpler than enduring it. It was more horrible than I ever imagined possible, because there was a part of me that wanted to leave, and there was another part of me that, for some unknown reason, begged at me to stay. He could change.

Perhaps I was an optimist. But what if what he said was true? If he'd turned over a new leaf I could look past this experience to reignite the good in our relationship once more. Everybody fails, and everyone deserves a second chance. He'd acknowledged what he'd done, and if this was our rock bottom it could only get better from here. I hoped. But there was a newly minted pessimist that emerged from within that vehemently disagreed. He's just going to do it again. You've seen it before, he's no different! Don't be a fool!

In a state of emotional disarray I texted Susan. "I need to talk." I waited patiently, staring at my phone as the minutes went by, but she didn't respond. I texted her again. "Please respond I need to talk to you." Nada. I assumed she'd spent the night with the man at the bar, or like any other normal person at 4:00 AM, was fast asleep in her bed.

She was the only one I trusted. I thought about calling my Mom but didn't want to alarm her, for now I had this under control but I needed to vent. I gave Susan a few more minutes and then I did the unthinkable, I pulled out Damien's business card and stared at it.

When the urge to text him became too intense I caved. "Damien? It's Jennifer."

When five minutes went by and I didn't receive a response I lost all hope. And then, when I'd got up to lay on the couch and try to catch some shuteye, my phone vibrated. There was a moment of excitement that rushed through me as I read his text. "That was fast. See, I knew you'd reach out."

My blood boiled at his response. I didn't want to deal with anymore of his arrogant cocky bullshit. I was in no mood for it. "If I knew you were going to be so arrogant I wouldn't have!"

He backtracked quickly. "I apologize. I didn't mean to be arrogant. I was just flirting. Is everything ok? You sound... tense."

"No, everything is not ok. My husband just beat the shit out of me." Just saying those words to another soul helped me feel better. Maybe Damien was right after all.

"I know we've barely met but god dammit that pisses me off! You don't deserve that! Are you ok?"

"No one deserves it. Yes, I'm ok. For now."

"Can you talk on the phone?"

At that moment I knew his manly voice would sooth me, but I couldn't risk it. "No, I'll wake him."

"Ok. Please stay calm and try not to panic. Do you have anywhere you can go, perhaps your friend's house or a parent's house?"

I began to sob again as I realized the gravity of the situation, and how, whether I liked it or not, if I left Steven my life was going to change drastically. "I don't. I don't want anyone to worry about me."

"I understand. Have you called the police?"

"No. No police. I don't want them involved. My husband is a DEA agent; they'll take his side. I don't know what to do!"

"I understand. Listen, this is a clear-cut case to me. You're leaving him."

I'd never texted so ferociously. "It's not that easy! I can't. I just can't. He swore that he wouldn't do it again."

"That's a god damned lie and I think you know it. This is what abusers do. Where are you? I am coming to get you. I will pay for a hotel, food, anything you need. Just let me know where you are and I will scoop you up before I fly out. I will even stay with you if you need me to. My sister had this happen to her, and it never got better, only worse."

"No. I can't, I just needed to vent to someone. I'm not looking for you to rescue me."

If sighs were audible through text I would have heard one. "Well, okay then."

As five minutes went by I realized that I had been rude, so I texted him once more. "I'm sorry for being so rude to you. I know you were trying to help. Thanks for talking to me and thanks for your generous offer. I'll be in touch."

He responded quickly, which left me uneasy knowing that he'd ignored me before. "Ok, then. Be safe. Take care of yourself." And then there was nothing. Like that he disappeared. Not a text, not a call, or even a smiley to say goodbye.

Chapter 4 – Jennifer

Somewhere around 4:30AM I'd passed out on the couch. My phone woke me at 8:00AM, like it always did, sounding out a serene yet persistent noise that drew me from my slumber. I hurried to our spare bathroom and took a shower, running the water as hot as it would get until the bathroom was filled with steam and the mirrors were fogged. I was afraid to see what Steven had done to my face.

I showered quickly. I didn't want to be late to work again or Jeff Tompkins, my asshole of a boss, would only find a way to make me feel worse than I already did. And besides, I wanted to leave before Steven woke up, my nerves too frazzled to handle any more drama.

As I stood dripping wet and toweling off I was unable to resist the urge to look at my face. I wiped the steam away from the mirror with my wrist. My heart jumped out of my chest when I saw that the entire right side of my face was bruised and swollen.

I'd be able to cover up some of the bruises with my make up, but the only thing that would fix the swelling was time. People were going to know and I already began to notice the creeping self-consciousness.

My phone buzzed, it was Susan responding to my pleas from the night before. "I am so sorry I missed your messages! Are you ok?"

"We'll talk at work. There's a lot to discuss. I'm running late."

I tip toed into the bedroom passed Steven as he snored incessantly and pulled my favorite gray pantsuit from the closet. I also packed a suitcase for a week, as I had no plans to return home after work. I slipped into my favorite gray pantsuit and black pumps, and made my escape out of the bedroom, tip toeing over shards of broken glass and the other remains left behind from the night before.

I couldn't stand to be near Steven a moment longer. I needed to be alone, but work was going to have to do. In the event I'd actually leave my husband I'd need money, and in order to get money I needed my thankless job.

I arrived ten minutes late to work and snuck in the back door, hoping that Jeff wouldn't notice. The moment I sat in my cubicle's chair and powered up my computer a negative presence emerged at my back. I turned to see Jeff staring down at me with a scorn of disappointment, his shiny bald head glaring off the fluorescent lights of our office. My blood boiled. "Jennifer, I need to see you in my office."

I sighed. "Ok."

I rose to follow him but he instead followed me. We walked all the way around our cube farm to his office where I sat in a chair that was smaller than his and forced me to look upward at him and photos of his family, which were strategically placed to make him look more appealing and powerful than he actually was. I shifted in the small seat trying to get comfortable as he sighed. "Late again are you? I'm getting tired of this. I'm writing you up. This is your second one this year, and it's going to be your last."

I wasn't going to beg him to stop because that's exactly what he wanted. I wasn't going to apologize either, because I had nothing to apologize for. His facial expressions changed as he noticed the swelling on my face, but yet there wasn't even an unspoken bond of sympathy, or a kind word tossed in my direction. "Have you anything to say for yourself?" he said.

I sat motionless, and emotionless. "Not to you. You have no idea what I deal with at home. Write me up and get it over with."

He sighed and leaned back in his chair, placing his hands behind his head. "Listen, Jen. The job is the job. You're either going to make it on time from here on out or you're fired, final warning. Now get out of here and get back to work."

I stood up and left without saying a word. The anger I felt toward my husband dueling with that I felt for my boss. Who was the bigger prick? I didn't immediately have an answer.

The moment I left Jeff's office Susan approached me with a grin. "Jennifer, you've got to come see this."

I was a bit startled as I ruminated over my conversation with Jeff. I tried to hide the damage to my face but it was unavoidable. We hurried to my high walled cubicle, where she whispered to me. "What in the hell happened to your face?"

I wiped a tear from my eye. "Steven."

Her excitement was muted by rage. She took a deep breath. "So that explains it then."

"Explains what?" I said, stopping the flow of tears.

"The flowers."

"Flowers?" I said surprised.

"Oh yes, in quantities I have never seen before. Roses, carnations, tulips, and daffodils, the bouquets are just beautiful."

I looked at her confused. "I'm sorry, I'm not following you."

A moment later a team of deliverymen began to place bouquet after beautiful bouquet of flowers on my workspace. The smell of the arrangements filled the air and my heart with something that had been absent for ages, affection, and the security that someone cared enough about me to show me how they felt.

As the bouquets piled up I melted inside. Though my soul had been hardened from abuse, and from difficult life experiences, it softened just enough to feel like I did when I was a child, when the world was full of hope and purpose instead of darkness and forbearing.

In a state of shock I looked up at the deliveryman. "Who on Earth are these from?"

He shrugged his shoulders. "They were purchased anonymously, but there's a card in three of the bouquets, I hope that helps."

Perhaps my husband was making a grand gesture to apologize, but my inner realist figured he was hunched over a toilet bowl with a massive hangover, throwing up what remained of his stomach lining. But one could hope, right? I pulled a small white card from the bouquet of red roses, which contained the sweetest words anyone had said to me. "Good morning, beautiful. I hope these make you smile because when I think about you, that's all I do. – DH."

I blushed, and it hurt to blush. My heart melted into a puddle. Susan looked down at me and whispered. "Well? Are they from Steven?"

There was a smile creeping across my face. "No," I whispered, knowing how quickly gossip spread around the office. I cupped my hand around my mouth and whispered directly into Susan's ear. "They're from Damien, you know the guy from the bar last night?"

Her eyes lit up. "Get out! Really? That's incredible."

Another one of the assistants walked by and gave me a dirty look, jealous of the burgeoning flower garden spilling from out of my cubicle. "Slut," she said, disguising it as a cough.

Susan looked at me and rolled her eyes. "What a bitch!" Only Susan didn't try to conceal her words under a cough, she just straight told it like it was.

I laughed a bit. After all, I was the one given all the flowers. "She's just jealous!" I said, loud enough so that crotchety old bitch could hear.

I couldn't stand the women here but they didn't matter. I pulled the next card out of the bouquet of white carnations and read it. "What if I told you that I missed you?-DH" it said. And then I read the third, hanging inside a bouquet of bright yellow tulips. "I will be in San Diego again on Sunday and I can't wait to see you. I've made reservations at The Masters Steakhouse for Sunday night, a place I just know you're going to love.-DH."

The Masters was a super luxurious restaurant near San Diego Bay, and in order to get in you had to be famous, or you had to have money. I'd always wanted to go, but never in my wildest dreams could I have afforded it.

Susan could hardly restrain herself. "You've got a smile from ear to ear, now you need to tell me what those cards say."

I held the last white note up to her and she read it, getting visually excited. "Well? Are you going to meet him?"

I got shy all of a sudden, my inner loyalties to my husband defending against this over-the-top romantic onslaught. "I-I don't know."

She corralled my eyes with her own. "You don't know? What do you mean 'You don't know'?"

"I can't give up on Steven so soon, he promised me he'd change. Giving into Damien is like giving up on Steven."

She shook her head, frustrated with me. "Jen babe, promise me you'll go," she said.

I took a deep breath, my body recoiling at the thought of the night before, my face still aching. I couldn't just brush off what Steven had done. I wanted to but I couldn't. "Ok Susan, I'll go."

I wanted to call Damien so badly to say thank you, but if Jeff caught me I'd be in even more trouble than I already was so I sent him a text instead. "Thank you for the flowers! They are gorgeous! They made my day and they made me smile!"

Steven hadn't made me smile in ages. That's when I began to realize that there wouldn't just be a life without Steven, there would be an entire, unexplored world, and my heart pounded just thinking about it.

A moment later he responded. "You're welcome. A woman like you deserves to smile. I'll see you on Sunday!"

"Thank you, Damien. I'm looking forward to it!" I replied. And I got to work, and somehow the relaxing scent of the flowers made the day so much easier to get through.

Chapter 5 – Jennifer

After work I headed to my parent's house, an average contemporary American home with lush green grass, manicured hedges and a white picket fence. It was only a forty-minute drive from my office, and an hour from my home with Steven. It was comforting to know my parents were close by.

I needed my mother's advice and comfort, but most importantly her sympathy. After all, it wasn't that many years ago she had hit a rough patch with my Dad, and they made it through, but at the same time, my Dad never hit my Mom like Steven had to me.

The sun had just begun to set as I rolled up to her house. She flicked the porch light on and opened the door. Her eyes immediately darted to my face as I walked toward her. I dropped my luggage and collapsed into her arms where I cried my eyes out like a child. "Mom I need help. I'm so confused."

She grabbed the back of my head and squeezed me tightly. "It's ok baby girl, mommas got you now, everything's going to be ok." She pulled back a bit to look at my face, trying to be as strong as possible and fight the tears welling up in her own eyes. "I know this sounds hard to stomach but things like this happen, and I'm so sorry it happened to you. You did the right thing by coming here. That man is no good for you."

My Dad emerged from the living room, quiet and reserved as he usually was. He also inspected my face and shook his head in disgust. "That bastard can go to hell. You deserve better than a man who treats you like that."

I cried a bit more. "I know Daddy, but he promised me he'd change. Don't I owe him another chance? Didn't you always teach me to forgive?"

He shook his head. "You don't owe him a god damn thing but a divorce. Sure you can forgive him if you want, but you sure as shit ain't going back to him, and that's the end of it! I swear," he said determined, "if I ever see that scumbag piece of shit again I'll put a bullet between his eyes!"

"James!" my mother said. "That isn't helping. Please go back to the other room and calm down!"

He sulked into the other room shaking his head and turned on the TV, reclining back in his easy chair.

My phone rang. Excited that it might be Damien I pulled it from my purse. It was Steven and a bolt of panic struck me. I declined his call. He kept calling back, over and over until out of exasperation I answered it. I had no words to say at first, and neither did he. "Jen baby? Are you there?" he said.

I had an attitude a mile thick. "I'm here. What do you want?"

"I know baby. I'm so sorry for what I did. You've got to believe me. It will never happen again, I promise. Now come on home and let's work on things. I haven't had a single drink and I don't intend to again."

I sighed. "I find it hard to believe you can change overnight. Listen. I don't want to talk. I'm staying with my parents for a couple days to think about things."

"Wait," he said. "Please don't hang up. I just wanted to tell you that I love you. That you're beautiful and I'm a god damn fool for treating you like I have."

My eyes filled with tears. I muted my phone so he couldn't hear my emotions unleash. He must have thought I was stupid. I was wise enough to spot the cycle of abuse, and the honeymoon phase of it ready to spring into full bloom. I didn't even bother giving him a dash of hope. "Ok," I said, and hung up the phone.

My mother grabbed my face and looked straight into my eyes. "You've got to cut him loose. Like a Band-Aid. Rip it off even if it hurts. We've got your back here, love. Money, a place to stay, whatever you need. You know that right?"

I nodded.

"Damn straight!" My father chimed in from his easy chair.

I wiped the last tear from my eye. "I love you both, thank you so much for understanding. I was embarrassed that this happened to me."

"You shouldn't be embarrassed, it is Steven that should be embarrassed. Now why don't you go to your old room and rest? Sure it looks different and we've changed things around a bit, but the bed's still comfortable."

I never imagined myself back in the home I grew up in, but there I was, confused, in a state of disrepair that I hoped would end soon, but by the encroaching pain in my heart knew it wouldn't be so easy.

On the flipside was a nervous tension about the possibility of meeting Damien, a tension that I hadn't felt in years.

Chapter 6 – Jennifer

I spent all night and the next day in my room, fending off desperate phone calls from Steven, which had now grown annoying.

My phone woke me at 8:00 AM Sunday morning and I snatched it from the nightstand. It was Damien. I answered, trying my best to sound like I hadn't just woken up from a night full of tears and incessant tossing and turning. "Hello?"

"Hi Jen, it's Damien. I was just calling to check up on you. I know the last couple days couldn't have been easy."

"No, no it's ok. I'm ok. Everything's ok." I got lost in a web of my own bullshit as I came to my senses.

"That's good, I'm glad you're feeling better. Listen, my private jet has just landed in San Diego. I should be finished with my business obligations around 5PM, and our reservations at The Masters are at 7PM. Are you up for it? I completely understand if you're not given what you've went through, but I'd be a liar if I said I wasn't hoping to treat you."

I paused for a moment to contemplate his offer, the timing was horrible, but I just couldn't bring myself to decline him. "Yes. I'll go with you, I apologize in advance if I'm a little quiet."

"Excellent! I'm looking forward to it," he said. "I'll send my driver for you this evening. Where should he pick you up?"

I wavered a bit before responding. I wasn't sure if I wanted him to know where I lived. "It's ok. I'll meet you there. I know where it is."

"I insist," he said, "I have a surprise for you."

"A surprise?" I began to get nervous and cracked a smile.

"Yes. Now where can he pick you up?" I could sense him grinning through the phone.

I let out a small sigh. He wasn't going to stop. "I'm at my mothers in Poway, at 3256 Sparrow Lane."

"Very good, I'll let my driver know. He'll be there at 6:30 PM and not minute sooner or later."

"Ok," I said. "I'll be waiting."

"Goodbye Jennifer, I'm looking forward to seeing you."

"Goodbye Damien. I look forward to seeing you as well." As soon as I hung up the phone my heart began to race. I looked in the mirror to find that my face was still lightly bruised but that the swelling had gone down considerably. I could cover it up. I opened up my bag and realized I didn't have a dress. I panicked and sent Susan a text. "Susan I need a dress for tonight!"

She replied immediately. "Did someone say shopping?"

I worried about money, as I didn't have enough to buy a fancy dress befitting The Masters restaurant. It was an extravagant place and I didn't want to look run down. "Yes! Meet me at the outlets in Carlsbad."

"The outlets? Really? I thought you were a Nordstrom's girl."

"Not anymore I'm not, maybe Nordstrom's Rack. I've got to get this one on the cheap. I'm at my mom's in Poway and I think I'm leaving Steven. I need to conserve my money."

"Ok. Meet me at the food court at 11:00 AM, I know just the place!"

"Ok, see you soon," I replied. I trusted her. With as good as she looked, I knew she wouldn't lead me astray.

***

I walked up to the food court right at 11:00 AM. I had no reason to be smiling, but I was. Susan was sitting on a bench sipping an orange Jamba Juice in the skankiest orange mini-skirt I'd ever seen. She looked up at me and smiled. "We meet again," she said, standing up to scan my face. "You look a lot better than I expected, you can hardly even tell you were hit."

"I guess I heal fast or maybe it's just the make up?"

"No. Really. You look good, babe."

I blushed. "Thanks, Susan."

"Are you ready to shop?"

"Yes," I said. "I've been ready," of course that was a lie. I'd never been more nervous.

"Good, I know I am. So you're a girl on a budget huh? I was thinking Charlotte Rouse."

"Are you sure about that?"

She took another sip of her Jamba Juice and winked. "Totally! Now come on, let's go."

"Ok. I trust you." We walked to the Charlotte Rouse outlet and went inside. There were beautiful dresses all over the store. My eyes were instantly drawn to a tight fitting, navy blue dress. I pulled it off the rack and let it drape over my forearm as I starred at its contours.

"Hot," Susan said, "go put it on."

I turned to my left and found a similar dress in red. As soon as I went for it Susan smacked my hand. "No! Not for you! Go!"

I turned around surprised, holding back my laughter. "Jesus you're a demanding bitch!"

She smiled. "And that's why you love me."

I walked toward the fitting rooms, trying to stop my wandering eye from latching on to every vibrant dress I passed, but I couldn't. I spotted a white dress with a black stripe across the middle, and when Susan wasn't looking I snagged it, threw it over my forearm, and then locked myself into a fitting room.

I stripped to my undies and slid into the navy dress. I was instantly filled with disappointment when it made my breasts look frumpy. I took it off and put on the white dress. It hugged my curves perfectly. I rubbed my hands along my sides and stared at myself in the mirror. Not only did it fit me, and not only did it look good, but it made me confident, and most of all it made me feel pretty.

I slipped on my flip-flops, exited the fitting room and walked towards Susan who had three other dresses slung over her arm, her jaw just about dropped. "You look so damn good!"

I smiled. "This is the one, isn't it?"

Susan looked at the dresses on her arm, contemplating if any of them could look better and nodded her head. "You're right. I can't beat it. Well done Jen, well done."

"Are you proud of me?" I said.

She laughed. "Clearly my impeccable fashion sense has rubbed off on you."

"Ha!" I said and went back to the dressing room, redressed myself in the clothes I showed up in and walked to the register with confidence.

The lady at the register gave me a smile. "That's one of my favorite dresses in the store. It's elegant yet simple. Good choice."

"Thank you," I said with a smile.

"Will that be all?"

"Yep!" I said. I pulled out my credit card, eager to pay.

"Well all right then that will be $89.71 with the tax and you will be on your way."

I swiped my card, but as I was doing so there was a rush of fear that told me it would end up getting declined; that perhaps my husband had cancelled my cards to push me back into his arms. I waited patiently for it to authorize. A moment of relief rushed through me as the receipt printed out. I signed the receipt, grabbed my bag, and headed towards the door with Susan. "Well, that was easy," I said.

Susan looked at me perplexed. "Is that it? You're already done? What about make up? Accessories? Shoes?" And then she giggled. "And lingerie."

I laughed. "You are naughty, aren't you? I wish I could buy all those things, but this is it. It's all I can afford for now. Thanks for your help. I really appreciate it."

"Aww," she said. "You're welcome. Anytime. You know I love malls."

My hands began to shake as I held the bag. "Well, it's time for me to get home and get ready. I've got a big night tonight. Too big."

She grabbed my wrist and stabilized it. "Don't be nervous. Ok?"

"I'm not nervous," I said, in a weak attempt to deny the truth.

She laughed. "Yes you are. It's written all over your face. Just remember one thing, ok? Make no mistake my dear tonight you are in control. Damien is chasing you, not the other way around. Got it?"

I laughed. "Right. Tell that to my unconscious mind. Sorry I couldn't stay and shop longer, but I've really got to get going."

"Well ok then. Make sure to let me know how your night with Mr. Fabulous goes. Ok?"

I laughed, though it hurt my face to do so. "I will. And once again, thank you for helping me."

I walked out of the mall to my car and drove back to my parents' house. It was almost 3:00 PM when I returned.

The front door was locked and I fiddled with my key chain trying to find the correct key to get in. Before I could get the key into the door my mother opened it with a smile on her face, noticing my bag. "I see you've been distracting yourself. You're acting like you've got yourself a date."

"No I don't. Why would you think that?"

She laughed. "Twenty-five years under my roof as my daughter, that's why."

"What would you say if I told you that I did?"

"Well, I'd tell you that it's too soon, but I'm not going to stop you from being happy."

I smiled. "Thanks mom. I love you."

"I love you too sweetie." She gave me a big hug and I walked to my room.

I was so nervous that I'd lost my appetite as my stomach churned and churned. I couldn't believe that I was going to meet Damien. It seemed insane. But fate had placed an ace in my hand and I would have been a fool not to play it.

Chapter 7 – Jennifer

It was 6:25 PM and Damien's driver was set to be at my parents' house in five minutes. I looked at myself in the mirror and smiled. My hair was tied into a bun, a few wisps of light brown hair escaping down the sides of my face. I'd applied just enough makeup to cover my bruises and look attractive without looking like a clown. My dress fit me perfectly as I stepped into a pair of white heels, the finishing touch on a look that I hoped would impress one Damien Hernandez.

I stepped out of my room with confidence and headed toward the front door when my mother heard the clacking of my heels against the tile from the living room and turned around to catch a glimpse of me. "Excuse you! Turn around and let your mother see." I hesitated. And as I slowly turned she smiled. "Yep, you're beautiful, just as god made you. Now go on before you make me cry more than I already have."

I fought my own tears back and escaped out the front door before I ruined my mascara. I walked down my driveway and as I approached the curb a black limousine turned the corner. My heart pounded. I took a deep breath and calmed myself, fighting the urge to flee back inside. It was 6:30 PM sharp.

The limo pulled up to the curb and the passenger side door popped open. A moment later Damien stepped out of the car in a black suit finished off with a bow tie around his neck, and a smile from ear to ear. I hadn't expected him. "Hello beautiful," he said. "Are you ready?" He stretched his hand out to meet mine.

"I am," I said with a smile, trying to keep my composure, but was I? "I didn't expect you." I let my hand fall into his as he guided me into the back of the limo.

Damien followed me into the car and closed the door behind him. He tapped the plane of glass separating us from the driver and the limo sped off down the road. I'd become quiet and nervous. I tried my best not to be distant, but couldn't help myself. "Thanks for picking me up. This is interesting."

"It was the least I could do." He reached into the back. "I have something for you, but the way you look tonight, I realize that you simply don't need it."

"Need what?" I said.

"This," he said as he unzipped a dress traveler to show me a beautiful black gown made by Chanel.

My eyes opened wide and my jaw dropped. The dress was absolutely gorgeous. "Great taste you have," I said. I tried not to appear too excited, though inside I was gleaming.

"Thank you. I'm glad you like it," he said, scooting closer to me. "But as I said before, I like you better in what you're wearing now, though I still want you to have it." He zipped the traveler back up and hung it on a clothes hook. "I am glad you decided to come with me tonight, we're going to have an amazing time."

I blushed. "Thanks for taking me. So The Masters is pretty good huh?"

He smiled in return. "It's fantastic."

I tried to play dumb. "It sounds good, though I've never heard of it before you asked me."

It was as if he could see right through me. "Really?" he said. "I hope you like it. This is just one of the many places we are going to go together."

I laughed. "Are we now?"

"Of course we are. I only want the best for my friends."

"So we're friends?" I said.

My heart began to race as he looked intensely into my eyes. "Yes. For now."

I began to get uncomfortable. "You're so forward; I haven't even split up with my husband, and I'm not even sure that I will. Let's start slow ok?"

"I understand," he said, reaching for a bottle of champagne and uncorking the top. He poured two glasses and handed one to me. "And now for a toast."

I giggled a bit; I'd never had a man toast with me before a date. In fact the last time I remember a toast was at my wedding so many years ago. "To what are we toasting?"

He paused, trying to think of the right words to say. But with Damien, the right words always came easy. "To new friends, and taking things slow." He held his glass to mine, lightly touching the rim until the glass rang out. We each took sip.

The cold tartness of the champagne shocked my taste buds. "That was sweet of you. This champagne is really delicious."

"Well I'm glad it lived up to the hype. That bottle alone was over $600 dollars and has been aging in a cellar for more than a decade."

Whenever Steven would mention money I'd grow uncomfortable. "Oh no, I'm sorry, you didn't have to spend that on me."

He just smiled and continued drinking from his glass. "I know I didn't have to. I wanted to. There's a difference."

"I-I don't know what to say." I couldn't fathom a man wanting to be so generous toward me since my husband was always the exact opposite, unless, of course, he'd wanted something from me.

"You look surprised," he said.

"You're very generous. Thank you."

"It's my pleasure," he said, taking another sip of champagne.

By the time I'd finished my champagne we arrived at The Masters Steakhouse, which was nestled up to San Diego Bay in one of the most exclusive neighborhoods in the city. Anyone who was anyone in San Diego society had been there. Movie stars, business magnates, and now the lonely old Jennifer Davenport in a $100 dollar dress. I'd never been more nervous to eat, though I tried to let my guard down just a little. I'd enjoyed the ride over and I fully intended on enjoying the rest of the evening.

The limousine stopped and Damien opened the door. He stepped out of the car, reaching his hand inside to grab my own. He helped me out and we walked arm in arm along a winding garden entranceway beset on both sides by two small, trickling fountains, which added to the luxurious ambiance of the establishment. We approached the entrance and the maître'd looked at us with a smile. "Do you two have reservations?"

Damien approached him. "Yes. They'll be under Damien Hernandez, for 7:00 PM."

The maître'd smiled as he scanned his guest list. "There you are. Right this way, please."

We followed him through the normal dining room where men and woman ripped into hunks of steak and lobsters the size of my arm, to a secluded, private dining area in the back protected by a large tan curtain. It was an extremely intimate location and the perfect place for a date. I'd never been anywhere so romantic. I didn't know what to say or think. I just kept trying to relax and enjoy myself.

As the maître'd left Damien approached our table and pulled the chair from under it, motioning for me to sit with his hands. "Please sit," he said. I'd never been anywhere near a man who had better manners and I instantly became self-conscious of my own.

"Let's order a bottle of wine," he said. "You choose."

I took the leather-clad menu into my hands and cracked it open. There weren't even prices listed next to the items, except for the wine, and there wasn't a single bottle under $250 dollars a bottle. With my eyes wide Damien sensed my nervousness. "Don't worry about the prices. You just order whatever it is that will make you happy, ok?"

I nodded, trying to understand such a foreign concept. I found the cheapest bottle of wine I could without feeling like a burden. "Ok," I said. "I want to get a bottle of 2013 Chateau Mormont Cabernet."

A playful smiled erupted on his face. "Is that really what you want? Or are you just ordering that because it's the cheapest thing on the menu?"

"You've got me. Honestly I've never heard of that winery, and I really don't know much about wine that doesn't come in in a box. I'm sorry."

He laughed. "Well I do, and I'm going to order something I think will be extraordinary." He scanned the menu. "We should get the 1999 Domaine Grand Cru Burgundy."

I sat there shocked as I found it on the menu. "That wine is $650 dollars, are you sure you don't want to get something simpler?"

"I'm not craving simple. I'm craving complex."

"Is that what attracts you to me?" I blurted out; the champagne in the limo had clearly impacted my executive functioning.

He didn't respond and instead only smiled as the waiter approached our table. "Have you two decided on something to drink?"

"Yes, we'll have two bottles of the 1999 Domain Grand Cru Burgundy."

"Excellent choice," he said. "I'll get that for you in just a second."

The waiter bolted out of sight and there was an awkward silence that lay between Damien and I. The waiter returned only a moment later to uncork both bottles and began to pour Damien's glass. Once finished he reached over to pour mine when Damien stopped him. "Please, allow me," he said, grabbing and tilting my glass as he took the wine bottle from the waiter's hands and poured wine into my glass until it was filled with the richest color of maroon that I'd ever seen.

I took the glass into my hands and inhaled the rich and fruity aroma. I took a sip and couldn't believe what coursed over my taste buds. "Oh my god this is delicious!"

Damien smiled and took a sip of his own. He didn't look as pleased as I was. "It's just ok," he said. "I've had better."

"Really?" I quipped. "Or are you just showing off?"

He laughed. "Nope, I'm just stating a fact. Wait until we go to Europe, then I'll show you some wine that will blow your taste buds right off."

"Will you now?" I said surprised. I'd never been to Europe. I began to feel uncomfortable and wanted him to know that I wasn't just interested in him for his money. "Listen I need to be straight with you. I think it's great you have money, and this great lifestyle, but that's not why I came here tonight."

He took a sip of his wine, his face growing more intense. "Now we're getting somewhere. So why are you here with me, then? I didn't assume you wanted my money, but I did want you to have a good time."

I took another sip of wine, feeling the light tingle of alcohol buzz through me. Words escaped my mouth I never would have said sober. "I felt a connection that night at the bar, and it didn't revolve around money, or status, or looks even. I felt like you understood me, and that's something I've never been able to say about other men in my life, my husband included."

"That's because I do understand what you're going through. My sister went through this a few years back with her husband. She eventually left him and has felt better ever since. It wasn't easy, but it had to be done."

I choked up a bit. "I'm sorry," I said, grabbing a napkin and wiping my eyes. "The wounds are still fresh."

He took another sip of wine. "And they will be for some time. The moment you let that misery take you where it wants to take you, you've lost and he's won. I can see it clear as day, you're better than that, and you're better than him."

I nodded. "You're right. I'll end up a jaded old bitch with crow's feet under my eyes and all alone if I let it take hold of me wont I?"

He nodded. "That is the road of a pessimist. Not all men are like your husband, and then again not all men are like me. What I do know is that you deserve better."

"Do you think?" I said.

He smiled. "No, of course not."

My eyes widened.

"I'm kidding," he said. "Come on now Jen, lighten up and have a good time."

"I'm sorry," I said. "I am." I didn't know what it was about Damien, but I felt that I could tell him anything and it would be ok; that he would understand and have some words of guidance to make me feel better.

The waiter returned to our table. "Have you two decided on food? I must say the pan seared rib eye here is beyond excellent."

I looked up at the waiter and smiled. "We'll have two! With mashed potatoes!"

Damien laughed. "Atta girl! That sounds good to me."

The waiter laughed. "Ok, two pan seared rib eye steaks coming right up." He disappeared from sight.

I narrowed in on Damien's beautiful brown eyes, sipping my glass of wine. "Damien I'm going to ask you something and you have to promise me not to lie."

"I will never tell a lie to you," he said.

"Are you married?"

His eyes widened. "Married? God no. I got close one time but it didn't work out."

"What happened?" I said, finishing my glass of wine. Damien was quick to pour me another.

"It's a long story, Jen. To shorten it, my work got in the way, and that is why I am so adamant about not making the same mistakes twice."

"So she left you?"

He nodded and took a gulp of wine. "She did."

"Are you over her?"

He took another gulp of wine. "It took me a while but I am."

"Last question," I said, trying not to sound like an interrogator.

"Shoot."

"I know I have no right to ask this, and you don't have to answer if you don't want to. I'd like to know if you are seeing anyone else."

He looked shocked. I was afraid I'd pissed him off. "And you thought I was being up front?"

"I'm sorry," I said. "I'm curious. You don't have to answer if you don't want. It's ok."

"No, it's fine. I haven't had the time to see anyone else. I'm a one woman man, I always have been and I always will be."

I liked that answer, though I still didn't know if I could trust him. "I didn't mean to offend you. It's just that you're clearly a well-traveled man of means; I just figured you'd have a girlfriend at every pit stop your jet makes, bad for me but good for you."

"You didn't offend me, it's an honest question. I'm sorry to disappoint you with my conquests, but I assure you I am single. With my interests and the stress level of my occupation, I could hardly handle one relationship, let alone many. Have there been others? Of course there have. Are there currently others? No, there aren't. Anymore questions?"

I paused a bit, mustering up the courage for one more. I knew that with every question I asked I should expect one of equal intensity in return. "Why should I trust you? All the men that I've trusted in my life have hurt me, save for my father."

"I'm sorry to hear that. The short answer to your question is that you shouldn't trust me, you barely know me. But I assure you that if you take a chance with me, you'll be forced to trust me because I won't leave you any other choice."

My heart was racing. I couldn't determine if he was just telling me what I wanted to hear, because if he was, he was doing it convincingly. And what scared me the most is that I believed him.

The waiter returned with two sizzling plates. "Be careful now they're hot."

I held my hands back as the waiter slid the plate in front of me. "These look amazing," I said.

"I assure you that they are," he said, sliding Damien's plate in front of him. "Is there anything else I can help you two with?"

"No, I think we're good," Damien said, "thank you."

I could hardly wait to eat. My stomach was growling. The nervous tension I felt at the onset of this date had vanished. I took out my fork and knife and sawed through the steak like a hot knife through butter. I put the strip of meat in my mouth and my head almost exploded. It was the most unbelievably smooth and delicious piece of meat I'd ever tasted. I closed my eyes and savored every delicate bite. "This steak is incredible! Or let me guess, to you its just 'meh.'"

He sliced a chunk and devoured it. His eyes widened to twice their size. "Incredible!"

"Are you just saying that to be nice?"

He laughed, sawing off another piece of meat and placing it in his mouth. "Oh my god, no. This steak is amazing!"

"I know right? So tell me, Damien, where in New York City do you live?"

"I live on the Upper East Side about a quarter mile from the 86th street station."

I smiled because I knew exactly where he was talking about. "I was there years ago! I'd taken the C train to 86th and wandered around the park in winter. It was beautiful and I'll never forget it. Who knows, maybe we were on the same train?"

He chuckled taking another bite of steak. "Unlikely. I've only been able to afford that area for the last two years, before that I lived in a variety of places, San Diego included. I grew up out here."

"Really?" I said surprised. "Where else have you lived?"

"Santa Fe, Phoenix, El Paso. I grew up a military brat. And well, I knew that lifestyle and I joined the military myself when I was 18. I served in the Gulf war."

"I had no idea you were a veteran." I tried to imagine him in fatigues but couldn't, he was just too damn polished. "Move back to San Diego, it misses you," I said with a smile.

"Or you could move to New York City," he said, his eyes fixed to mine like a hawk.

I paused, my heart was racing and I immediately changed the subject. "Boy I'm sure stuffed."

"Me too," he said, flagging down the waiter. "I don't know about you, but I'd like to take a walk around the bay, will you join me?"

"That sounds dreadful! You're really trying to turn me off, aren't you?"

He chuckled. "You're a smart ass are you?"

The waiter stopped by. "Would you two care for dessert?"

I laughed out of exasperation. "I couldn't eat another morsel of food if I tried."

"Me either," Damien said. The waiter handed him the bill. I wanted to open it to see how much it was but I resisted the temptation. Damien pulled out a metallic black credit card and slid it in the billfold. I knew that bill was at least $1,500 dollars and he didn't even bat an eye.

The waiter returned to snatch the check and brought the receipt back a moment later, which Damien signed enthusiastically. He stood up and held his hand out, helping me up. I couldn't stop smiling. I didn't know if it was because of the wine or not, but I was a having an absolutely wonderful time. As I grew closer to Damien I'd forgotten about my life's struggles because I was too busy fighting the images of him and I getting it on. He was just so god damn magnetic.

We walked out of the back exit of the restaurant, which led to a small walkway that bordered the bay. We approached the soft crashing waves just as the sunset lit the sky on fire with hues of gold and purple. His fingers slipped between my own and squeezed my hand. He pulled me toward him, looking me straight in the eyes. "Are you really having such a horrible time as you suggest?"

"Awful," I said. "Just awful."

He inched toward me until our chests touched. His hands slipped around my back, lightly stroking my spine. A kiss was inevitable. Our lips drew nearer until they touched, never before had I felt such an overwhelming sensation of joy as I did when we kissed. It was electric. The passion between us began to build as we sunk further into the kiss, but just as I began to lose control my life's troubles flashed before my eyes. I grabbed the lapels of his jacket and pulled away, looking him in the eyes. "Thank you for a wonderful evening, but I think I've got to get going."

He was shocked. "Get going?"

I nodded.

He was visually disappointed. "You're not going anywhere. The night has just begun."

I pulled his lapels and kissed him again. "I'm sorry Damien, but I've got to. My mother will worry about me. She's already worried as it is, and besides there's just so much going on in my life. I can't just forget it all, though I'm trying."

His hands traced up my shoulders and to my face as he lightly stroked my cheeks. "Sure you can. Come back to my room. It's close by."

My heart began to race. I knew this moment was coming, and I didn't know what to say. He kissed my forehead and held me tight to his chest. "I've got to fly back to New York in the morning and I won't be able to see you again for weeks."

"Weeks?" I said.

"Weeks. Long, torturous weeks. Come to my hotel and let's have a drink."

I paused for a moment and considered his offer. In our brief moment of passion I'd forgotten that he lived on the exact opposite end of the country, and took for granted that he'd flown here in his jet. With those things considered I began to change my mind, as nervous as those thoughts made me. I looked him in the eyes and gently nodded. "Ok, Damien, one drink, so you'd better make it a good one."

He smiled. "Absolutely."

I kissed him again. "And please remember what I said about taking things slow."

He placed the palm of his hand on my beating heart. "I haven't forgotten and I don't intend to, unless of course you want me to."

We kissed again watching the sun set below the horizon and the rising moon glowing against the slow crawling waves of the bay. "It's so beautiful here and I miss it. I hate that I have to leave so soon." He grabbed my hand, leading me down the walkway circling the bay. "Are you ready to go?"

I nodded. "Yes. I'm ready. Where are you staying?"

"I'm at The Westgate. It's only a quarter mile away. Shall we?"

I nodded quietly and took his hand, following him in lock step as we made our way out of the bay and to the luxury hotel where he was staying. We walked through the glass paned doors in tandem, and toward a bank of elevators that led to the tower's rooms. The closer we were to his room, the harder my heart pounded. My stomach was churning so much I thought I was going to lose my dinner, which I would have regretted in more ways than one.

I hadn't been with a man other than my husband in more than 15 years, and I wasn't sure how my body and mind were going to react with Damien, should we end up sleeping together. I followed his lead as he led me out of the elevator and down the hallway to the penthouse at the very top of the hotel, refusing to let my fear derail us. He slid his keycard in the door and the green light blinked, granting him entrance.

I walked into a room so beautifully ornate I didn't know what to say. My jaw just dropped as I marveled at the view of Downtown San Diego to one side, and the ocean to the other. Damien approached me from behind with a remote control in his hands. He pressed the button and the shades came down from the celling blocking out the view from both sides. I turned around to find him smiling and we kissed. I pulled away and placed my hands on his shoulders, taking a deep breath.

"Are you ok?" he asked.

I nodded. "What happened to the drink?"

"Are you thirsty?" he asked.

I bit my bottom lip and stared into his eyes. "No. I'm not."

"Relax," he said, squeezing my shoulders. "I'm not going to hurt you."

I looked up into his eyes and determined that he was being honest, and we kissed again, this time I was overcome with passion and placed my fingers underneath his suit jacket, pulling it off of him. Next I unbuttoned his shirt and brought my fingers up to his bowtie, which unwound with a gentle tug. I pulled his shirt off of him forcefully, losing myself in the moment.

I ran my hands along his muscular chest, feeling every fiber of his flesh. Seeing his chest and abs so ruthlessly cut drove me wild with passion. "They're nice," I said.

He ran his hands up the back of my dress, zipping it down the back until it fell to my sides, with only my bra remaining he looked at my cleavage. "And so are yours," he said with a smile. His hand traced along my back to my bra, which he undid with two fingers, pulling it off of me until my breasts fell right into his hands. "I'm glad I didn't order dessert. It would have spoiled my appetite, and that would have been a shame."

His words sent a chill down my spine. He held me tight and scooped me up from the ground with his muscular arms and carried me to the bedroom. He sat me on the down comforter bleached as white as white gets and began to massage my breasts. "Slowly," I moaned, writhing against the comforter as he pleasured my nipples with his forefinger and thumb.

Unable to contain myself I unclasped his belt, ripped it through his belt loops, and unzipped his pants, which fell to the floor.

He pulled the rest of my dress off of my body by my feet, taking my underwear right along with it. Before I knew it I was laying bare before Damien and ready to make love. My chest heaved up and down as every touch of his radiated like electricity across my body. "Damien," I cried as he began to finger me. "Is this a one time thing for you?"

His fingertips traced down my abdomen and over my mound. With one finger sunk deeply into my wetness and thrusting to the motion of my body he responded. "Only if you want it to be. Do you?"

"I don't know," I moaned, gripping at the white linen sheets as he drove his fingers deeper into my flesh. He knelt to the ground, pulling my waist toward his lips as he began to lavish my clitoris with his tongue. I moaned out with wild abandon as I ground my hips into his face. He moaned as well as he held my legs tight, trying his damndest to make me come, and I did.

A wave of pleasure built up in my groin, unleashing in terrifying spasms I didn't know I was capable of producing. I could hardly catch my breath, and by the time I finished I realized that I'd damn near pulled the sheets off the mattress.

Damien stood with a glimmer in his eyes. "You liked that didn't you?"

"Did it have to stop," I said, my body tense and aching for more.

He smiled. "Yes, because there are far better things than foreplay."

"I may have forgotten. Will you teach me?"

"I will," he said, pulling off his black underwear to reveal his large, hard erection. I laid back down on my back, ceding control of my body to him. He grasped the base of his penis and lightly pressed it against my vagina. Without going all the way inside he held my hands, interlocking his fingers between my own as he pinned them outstretched above my head and kissed me. "Are you ready for your lesson?" he said, lightly kissing my lips and chin.

"No," I moaned. "But ready or not I don't want it to stop."

A moment later I felt the pressure against my throbbing vagina as he slipped inside of me, thrusting gently as he kissed me. We both began to moan, lost in the pleasure of the evening. "Now this, this is desert," he said before our tongues connected once more.

He released my hands and I wrapped them around his neck and looked him right in the eyes, my entire body tingling as he took me. "Don't stop until you come," I said, my hips matching the thrusts of his until our bodies slammed together. I hadn't had sex like this in years; in fact, I hadn't ever had sex like this. This was more than just a transaction like sex with Steven. This was a profound communication on an entirely different level that I'd never before experienced. And it scared the shit out of me but it felt so god damn good.

We lay there together, as one being, making love to our heart's content for the better part of an hour. I couldn't stand any more pleasure, and as much as I tried I became helpless against the encroaching biological needs of my body. We both climaxed simultaneously. And in that moment I wasn't thinking about the past, or the future, only that exact moment where we became one in the heat of passion, and I knew I'd gone down a path from which there was no return.

Chapter 8 – Jennifer

I had hardly caught my breath when a wave of guilt I didn't expect slapped me across the face. Damien scooted next to me and wrapped his arms around my body, but I grew stiff and pulled away. "Jen? Are you ok?"

"I don't know. I'm fine."

"Uh oh," he said as he rubbed my back, doing his best to comfort me. "You don't regret this do you?"

"I-I don't know," I said as I began to fill with anxiety.

"Nothing this beautiful can be a mistake. Sorry, but it's just not possible."

"It's not you, it's Steven. It's my life. I'm just a fucking mess."

He sighed. And before he could get a word in edgewise my phone began to ring. I reached over to the mahogany nightstand and grabbed it. I cried when I saw that Steven was calling me, again. I turned to Damien, "It's my husband and I need to take this. Please don't say anything, if he finds out about us it will destroy him."

"Maybe that's just what he needs," he said.

When he'd stopped talking I answered my phone. "Steven?"

"Baby where are you? I miss you so much," he said, his throat filled with phlegm. It was clear he'd been crying.

"I'm at my mother's and this is where I'm going to be staying for a while."

"Baby you've got to give me another chance. I've been a fool. I promise you things will be different. You've got to trust me. I love you."

I choked up as I lost sight of the drunken monster that had beaten me and instead focused on the helpless man on the other end of the line. "I know you do Steven, but I can't see you right now. I don't want to keep explaining this to you."

"Are you going to leave me for what I've done? If you are please just tell because I don't think I can live without you."

"You should have thought of that before you beat the shit out of me," I said, my emotions thrashing in the complete opposite direction as I hung up the phone.

I collapsed into Damien's waiting arms. "I know it's tough but you've just go to stay strong," he said. "It's easier said than done, for sure. I get that."

As angry as I was with Steven, there was an equal part of me that felt sympathy for him. "I know Damien. I know you're right." I choked up a bit. "I'm sorry but I've got to go."

"Really?" he said, an exasperated tone in his voice. "I thought we were going to spend the night together."

"I did too, but I have to get home and then go see Steven." Steven didn't sound good, and honestly, that scared me.

"It's a game Jen, and he's playing you. I watched my sister torture herself over the same thing. You've got to fight it."

"I know I do. But I just can't, not yet." I stood up and grabbed my clothes, dressing myself in a hurry. "I'm sorry Damien, I am. Please understand that is the furthest thing from easy there is."

He nodded. "I understand. I know I'm not in your shoes and I get that. But you have to remember too that I'm looking to move on with my life."

"What is that supposed to mean?" I snapped.

"You're a grown woman. You know exactly what that means."

"I told you I wanted to take things slow."

"And I heard you, but was a night like tonight taking it slow? Help me to understand your definition of 'taking things slow'."

"I don't know," I said, even more confused than when we'd started talking.

"Listen. I just want to make sure that slow doesn't mean never. I have so much to give, and a desire to give it, but I don't want to waste that energy on someone that isn't interested. I deserve more than that."

I cried a bit and nodded. "You're one hundred percent right. You do. You deserve someone willing to put equal energy into a relationship. I just don't know if I'm that person."

He scooted toward me, placed his hands on my shoulders and looked me right in the eyes. "Forget your husband and come to New York City with me. Once this deal is done we can travel all over the world together. I don't want to waste a moment of my freedom alone."

I was choked up like I'd never been before. "Do I have to choose now? Because if I have to choose now the answer is no."

He nodded. "I see. I'm not trying to pressure you into anything. I understand that you need to do what's right for you. If going to speak with your husband is something you need, then I support you. I just don't want to see you get hurt again."

I wrapped my arms around him and squeezed. "That's all I wanted you to say." I'd never met anyone so understanding, supportive, and willing to tell me how they truly felt. Damien was all the things I ever wanted in a man, but even with all those attributes I found myself inextricably drawn by a sense of duty to my husband. "Goodbye Damien," I said, before kissing him on the lips.

I turned around and grabbed my purse as I left his hotel room. I'd gotten halfway down the hallway when he opened the door. "Jennifer!" he said. "Please take my car service. I've called down and instructed George to pick you up. And don't forget your dress!"

"Thank you," I said as graciously as possible. I turned back around and continued down the hallway, the elevator, and toward the black limousine parked in front of the hotel, where George was dressed in a black tuxedo patiently awaited my arrival.

"Jennifer Davenport?" he said.

I nodded. "Yes, that's me."

He opened the limousine door. "Please get in. Where are you headed?"

"Same place you picked me up, George."

"Done." George hopped in the limo and took me home.

***

We'd turned the corner to my parent's neighborhood when out of the window I saw Steven's Jeep Wrangler parked in front of my mother's home next to the curb. My hands began to sweat as the limousine inched closer to their house. I never should have told him I was staying here.

I tapped on the window separating George from me as the limo came to a stop and he opened it. "Thanks George. I got it from here."

"Suit yourself," he said. The passenger door popped open. "Give me a call if you ever need a ride again. If you're a friend of Damien you're a friend of mine." He all but winked at me.

I smiled, but that smile quickly faded as Steven emerged from the shadows of my parents' patio, startling me half to death. My heart raced as I caught my breath. "Hey Miss Fancy. Where were you?"

"A corporate event with Susan," I said, trying to justify the limousine and my pretty white dress.

"Really?" he said.

"Really. And what's it to you anyways?"

"Nothing. It's fine. Your mother wouldn't let me in and told me to leave. I think they went to sleep but I decided to wait out here for you instead."

"Why?"

"Why do you think?" he said.

"Steven please just go home. I can't keep doing this."

He ignored me. "So, I assume you told your parents what I did?" I backed away from him as he crept toward me. "Answer me! Did you tell your parents that I hit you or not?"

I nodded. "Of course I did. I couldn't hide from the bruises. Now please just leave me alone! I'm fucking begging you."

He nodded and started to cry. "I'm so sorry, Jen. I'm just so confused." He walked toward me again and tried to hug me but I slipped from his grasp. As I did I backed into the ambient glow of the streetlights lining the sidewalk. Steven's facial expressions changed. "You look pretty, a little too pretty. I can't remember the last time you looked like that for me. What was it our wedding?"

"Thanks for that. I'll take it as a compliment."

"But should you? Now why don't you tell me where you really were," he said.

"I'm not going to repeat myself," I said.

"Why? Are you afraid you'll catch yourself up in your lies?"

Every bone in my body stiffened. "We had a business party and Susan and I dressed up. So what."

He scratched his head confused. "In a dress like that? No, no I don't buy it."

"Stop being paranoid. Leave."

"You're a fucking slut!" he screamed. His glare intensified as he grabbed the dress Damien had given me, ripped open the traveler and stared at it. He threw it into the lawn. "Who bought you that dress, huh? I know you can't afford it yourself on your shitty little salary."

I fought every urge to cry as he insulted me. "No one. I won it at an event tonight, along with the ride home in the limo."

"And let me guess, the dress is custom fit for you, right? Put it on!" he yelled. "I want to see you in it."

I shook my head. "No. I won't."

He smiled. "That's what I thought. I expected that you were angry, but this, this I didn't expect." His scowl was more savage than the first time he hit me.

"Steven, it was just a party. Ok? Please, you need to go home."

He stepped toward me and clenched his fist, pumping his fingers into the palms of his hands. "Tell me the fucking truth!"

"I did."

"What? I am not worthy of the truth? This is your last chance before you really make me mad."

"What do you want me to tell you? That I met another man I like more than you?"

His face grew ever more intense. "That's a start."

I put my head down; I couldn't look him in the eyes or stop the tears that began to leak from my eyes. "I'm sorry, Steven. I didn't mean to hurt you."

He spit at me and missed. "That's what I thought. You disgust me! Who is he? Do I know him?" His paranoia was evident by his rambling machine gun mouth.

"No," I said. "Please just go. You need to leave before my parents or their neighbors hear this."

He crowded me. "I'm not going anywhere. Did you fuck him? Huh?" My heart raced too fast to respond, as I feared another strike to my face. "Tell me god dammit! Did you fuck him?"

"No, Steven, I didn't. I swear. It was just a drink. Nothing more, nothing less."

He'd backed me into the garage door and took a sniff of my hair. "You're a god damn liar! His scent is all over you! Here I am groveling and apologetic, only what do I find? I find that you don't give a shit about our marriage at all. That when you were talking of commitment, vows and respect, and all the things you've harped on me for over the years, that they were all just bullshit and lies!"

"That's not true," I said sobbing.

"This just makes me sick to my stomach! How long has this been going on?"

"A week," I said, my voice unsteady.

"I don't believe you!" he screamed. "I ought to smack you! You deserve a man that hits you, you stupid bitch."

I shook my head from side to side. "Please stop saying these things! You can't talk to me in this way it's not right! I'm sorry Steven; I didn't mean to hurt you. I really didn't."

"Well it's too late," he said. "It's just too late. I came here wanting to talk things out face to face. To let you know that I've gone back to work as an agent in the DEA."

"Really?" I said surprised.

"Yea, the DEA found a hot lead on the cartel that killed Erick. I'm going back in where I started, making a purpose out of my anger, just like you'd always told me to do."

"That's good. I'm glad."

"I thought you'd be happy that I'm making a commitment to turn my life around and stay sober. I guess not."

"I am happy for you. Why would you think I'm not? Christ I'm not as evil as you paint me to be."

"You keep telling yourself that," he said. "I guess then I'm not the only person you're lying to."

"Listen! I'm no saint, but you never should have hit me. I'm not saying two wrongs make a right because they don't. I thought maybe I could look past your rage and anger this once, but I realize now that I can't."

"You can and you will," he said.

"I can't and I won't. Now leave before I scream."

"Is this how it ends between us?" he said.

I nodded, refusing to say another word.

"You're wrong," he said. "It's not over."

"I'm sorry," I said, choking up.

"Another line of bullshit from one Jen Davenport. You're not sorry because all you care about is yourself. All you've ever cared about is yourself."

Somehow I'd become the villain and I couldn't allow it. "I deserve to be happy you know? Am I ever going to be happy in your den of misery and self-pity?"

He didn't respond.

"I asked you a question you ungrateful, miserable ogre!"

His lip quivered.

"I gave everything to you for nothing in return!"

Steven's hand began to shake.

"Go on then, hit me if you must. Hit your soon-to-be ex-wife. This time you're not even drunk, so what does that make you?"

I was startled by the squealing sound of the garage door as it pulled up on its runners. I turned around to find my father holding a shotgun. "I thought I told you to leave," he said, pumping it and pointing it at Steven.

Steven spit on the driveway. "Fuck you old man. I never liked you or your whore daughter."

"Say that again and I'll blow you to kingdom come! And for the record, I ain't never liked you either."

"Dad!" I cried. "Please put the gun down!"

"Not until this bastard leaves," he said. "One!"

"You're not going to do shit! Just remember, I'm an officer of the law and you ain't."

"Two! I don't care what you are. You're just a monster to me. And if you think I'm fucking around Steve, you better think again. When I count three I'm going to kill you."

Steven stood there, contemplating his next move. "Whatever old man. I'm done with you and your family." He stomped down the driveway toward his Jeep and drove away.

My father lowered the gun and held me. "We told him to leave. I had no idea he was waiting out here for you until I heard the two of you arguing. Did he hit you again?"

"No. He just insulted and threatened me."

"Typical. He's a no good son-of-a-bitch and he always has been. You're leaving him, end of story. I haven't killed a man since Vietnam and I don't want to do it again."

"I know Dad. I didn't mean to catch you up in this."

"Why? That's what I'm here for. To protect my little girl."

"I'm 34."

"So," he said, hugging me. "You'll always be my little girl. Got it?"

"Got it," I said resting my head on his shoulder. "Thank you."

"Listen. I've already found you a good lawyer, said he'll make mincemeat out of him and get you everything he owns. I'll cover all the costs out of my pension."

"I don't want anything of his. Freedom is enough."

"Well that too!" my Dad said.

I walked into the grass and picked up my beautiful Chanel dress and wiped the lawn clippings from the fabric. Staring at that dress I'd realized that I'd lost a husband but gained a lover, and who knew, perhaps something more. I'd gained someone who cared for me, who would look after my interests, and who would build me up rather than tear me down, let alone beat me. And I realized then that that is exactly what I needed.

But even though I'd found Damien it didn't make my split with Steven any easier. I loved him at one time. The pain of our split was raw and all too real as a nightmare of negativity flooded into my life. The throbbing of my four day old bruises paled in comparison. The old adage I'd so often repeated as a child wasn't true. Sticks and stones could break my bones, but words, well words not only could hurt me, they could poison my soul as well. And they had.

I struggled myself to sleep strung out on bad emotions. The thought of enduring my punishing workload in the morning was almost too much to bear. I needed a break, and I was determined to take one.

Chapter 9 – Jennifer

I woke the next morning with frazzled hair and a headache, half resembling a cockatiel. I called up Susan who answered promptly. "Hey babe, what's up?" she said.

"A lot!" I said.

"Oh-Oh," she said excited. "Three choices. Was your date amazing? Or was it amazing? Or was it amazing?"

I couldn't think about Damien or our date with the divorce on my mind. "It's official. I'm leaving Steven."

"Forget about him. Tell me about Mr. Fabulous!"

"I'm serious Susan. Final decision."

"Oh," she said, backing her enthusiasm off. "What happened? Are you ok?"

"I'm fine," I said.

"You're going through a nasty divorce. You're not fine. Stop pretending. I can only help you if you're honest with me."

"I know. You're right. I just need a break from life. I'm too distracted, too strung out. Leaving Steven hurts so much more than I thought it would even though I know that it's right."

"Aww," she said. "I felt like that after my breakup with Dan. It's ok babe, it only gets better from here. You've got Damien right?"

"I don't know. I think so. He was upset that I didn't stay the night with him, but I just couldn't. There was too much on my mind."

"Wait a second. You turned him down?" she said, surprised.

"Well, yes, yes and no."

"So you fucked him?"

For a split second I thought about him inside of me and smiled. "Yea, I did, but I didn't stay the night with him. We had such a wonderful night and he's such a gentlemen. It's too bad Steven ruined it. He showed up at my parents and made a huge scene when I got home. My Dad almost killed him."

"Dear god. Final straw?"

"Yep, final straw. Listen I called because I wanted to tell you something."

"Juicy. Talk to me."

"Damien asked me to go to New York City with him. And I'm going to."

"You're god damn right you are!"

I laughed. "So don't be surprised if you don't see me for a few days. I'll be in the Big Apple. Hopefully Jeff will give me some time off, I really need it."

"Jeff is definitely an asshole, but if you plead your case he might help you out. He has for me before."

"I'll try my best. Thanks for listening. I'll see you in a bit."

"Word son!" she said in the most annoying tomboy voice I'd ever heard before hanging up.

***

I showered, dressed myself, and headed to work. I didn't want to be late again and needed to catch Jeff early. The later the day went on, the more of a dick he usually became. And I was tired of dealing with dicks.

I walked towards his office only a few minutes after he'd started up his computer. He was leaning back in his black leather chair waiting for Windows to load up. I knocked lightly on his door. He didn't even smile at me. In fact, the asshole sighed. "What is it Davenport? Can't you see I've just sat down?"

He had so many pet peeves I'd lost count. "May I close the door?" I said.

He sighed again. "Sure, but make it quick I've got emails to catch up on."

I closed the door and sat in one of his tiny chairs. "I need to take some time off work. I have some personal issues that I need to attend to. I appreciate your understanding of this situation."

He laughed, spinning a pen around his fingers. "Who said I appreciate your situation? I certainly didn't. It never ends with you, does it?" He wouldn't even look me in the eyes. "Well, it's ten minutes into my day and I'm officially annoyed. What exactly do you want?"

"I need two weeks of sick leave. You don't even have to pay me."

"Two weeks?" he said, his eyes expanding like balloons.

"Yes. Two weeks."

He paused before responding. "No can do Davenport. We've got a business to run here at Schuster and Sons." He pulled up the human resources system on his computer. "It looks to me like you don't have any sick leave left. That makes sense given that you're hardly here."

"That's not true."

"The system wouldn't lie now would it?"

"Come on Jeff. I work hard here and you know that. I don't want to beg but I really need these two weeks."

He shrugged his shoulders. "And I don't care."

My blood began to boil. "Ok. Can I just get a single week then?"

He shook his head. "Nope. Not until you've accrued it in the system."

"But I need it now. Can't you just deduct it from my later accruals."

He leaned back in his chair, interlocking his hands behind his head. "Go on, take your two weeks, but don't bother coming back when they're done."

"What?" I said. "Are you firing me?"

"No. But you're going to get with the program, or you can get out."

Physical revulsion crawled through my gut. My hands shook and my skin oozed sweat as I looked him in the eyes. "Fuck you, Jeff Tompkins. I quit!"

He laughed. "Good. Now pack your cube up and leave. I've got other things to do."

I stood up ready to spit in his face; or better yet ready to pull out the canister of mace in my purse and spray it in his eyes. My mind raced for a response but instead I turned away and grabbed the door handle, turning it. I looked back at him. "I know deep down you're just a miserable bastard. You can try to hide it, but to treat others like you treat me is a testament to the shallowness and filth that is your character. And as far as I'm concerned, you can go to hell."

I pulled open the door with force, stomped to my cube and began to clean it out, only taking the things of value that I'd brought over the years, and there wasn't much. I would be sad to see the flowers wilt and die, but they couldn't come with me.

Susan walked over as I stuffed pictures and various trinkets in my purse. "Did I just hear what I think I heard?"

"Yes, you did. I quit!"

She smiled. "Bravo, Ms. Davenport. Bravo. I only wish I had the gumption to follow you."

"You know what Susan. It feels pretty god damn good. You should follow me; this place isn't worth whatever they're paying you."

"One day. But for now I've got a hot pink dress I want to buy and I need the money," she said laughing.

I laughed in return, and then my eyes drifted to the one last picture on my cubical desk, it was one of Steven and I in Cozumel. I picked it up and fought back a wave of tears. Nostalgia urged at me to take it with me, but instead I threw it in the trash. I didn't need pictures of Steven where I planned on going. I turned to Susan and gave her a hug. "I'm going to miss seeing your face every day."

She laughed. "No more than I'm going to miss seeing yours. Go on now; get the hell out of here before that bastard comes back out. Or before I cry. I'm not sure which one will happen first."

I nodded. "Do not cry. It's not worth your tears. I'll be in touch, babe." Susan smiled, placed her headset on and went back to her cube. For her the day would continue as they always did. But for me, well I was taking a detour, a 3000-mile detour to New York City.

TO BE CONTINUED AT YOUR FAVORITE RETAILER

