Glass grinds into my knees as I am tugged against the windowsill. Jeff is doing his best to pull himself back up into the apartment, but my grip on him is slipping. My knees are on fire as the glass slices deeper and deeper. I grab the windowsill with my free hand in an attempt to keep myself from flying out into the night air, but the broken glass cuts deep into my palm. Blood coats the window ledge and begins to drip down, red raindrops flying toward Jeff’s face.He is terrified. No longer drunk, the reality of what is happening has him sobered. He has my wrist and is trying to pull himself back up, but he is too heavy for me to lift. I hear Stringer coming to my aid, but Jeff reaches up with his other hand and grabs hold of me, and I am pulled further out the window. Glass digs into my chest, scraping down my stomach. I see the street below, and terror grabs hold of me even more strongly than my husband. With my last effort, I grab ahold of the window with my other hand as my legs
I lie awake, staring at the ceiling above my bed, unable to sleep, though it’s getting late, and I know I have to go to work tomorrow. I can’t help but stretch my arm out across the bed, which I find cold and empty. Julia should be here, but she’s not. My thoughts return to her. Where is she now? How is she doing? Is Thompson with her? Is she hurt? Does she need me? My mind refuses to slow as all of the possibilities circle around. I wonder if I will ever be able to get her back.My phone is on, just in case she calls. I get all sorts of emails all time of day, so it is constantly chirping. I have learned to ignore it. Until I realize it isn’t just chiming to let me know an email has arrived. The phone is ringing.Hastily, I pick it up from my nightstand, praying that it’s Julia, but when I see that it is Stringer, my heart races just the same. I pray he has good news, that he’s gotten Julia back, and they are on their way to my home.“Stringer?” I say upon answering. “What’s going on
I am floating. I don’t feel as if I have a body anymore. I am only a spirit, hovering above the earth a little ways. I can’t feel a single thing--not my hands or feet or inner organs. Even my head feels lighter than air. My memory is hazy, and all I can recall is that something awful has happened. For a few moments, I try to remember if there’s a chance I am actually dead, and I feel like I am hovering above the ground because I am doing just that. Slowly, the memories come back to me. Just as they sink into my mind, reminding me about the window, about the pain and the blood, about the horror of seeing Jeff lying there, not on top of the car but partially through the roof of the vehicle, the feeling of my body begins to sink in as well. I can feel my eyelashes fluttering on my cheeks as I attempt to open my eyes. I can feel my hand resting on something soft. A bed, I think. My legs are stiff. My other hand… I can’t feel it at all. It’s as if I only have one now. Remembering what hap
“Mr. Merriweather, perhaps it would be better if you waited in the hallway,” Detective Margaret Folk says to me in a no nonsense sort of tone that tells me she is not used to having anyone disagree with her.I might be the first.But before I can even open my mouth, Shawna is speaking up on my behalf. “I see no reason why Mr. Merriweather can’t be in the room while you question Mrs. Thompson, unless of course, she would prefer for him to leave,” my lawyer says.Det. Folk arches an eyebrow, but it’s clear that Shawna is just as bold as the other woman, and when the investigator looks at Julia to see what she would like to do, Julia says, “I would like for him to say.”Shawna doesn’t gloat, but she does take a moment to introduce herself to Julia. “It’s nice to meet you,” she says, offering her hand. Julia shakes it lightly as Shawna tells her her name and says, “You have nothing to worry about.”Julia smiles at Shawna, but I can tell she’s nervous. She doesn’t want to be having this co
I’m fine. I feel fine, anyway. My hand is still wrapped in gauze, and I’m told I may need more surgery down the road. I will definitely need physical therapy, but that’s okay. Braxton says he’ll pay for the person to come to the house so I don’t have to go to a clinic for my treatments. He’s even volunteered to find a therapist who will move into the house so I can have it every day. It amazes me how different it is to have a plethora of money at one’s disposal, but I will have to get used to it because, as the wheelchair takes me to the waiting car, I know I will be with Braxton forever now.I get out of the wheelchair, which I’m only sitting in because the hospital staff insists it’s part of their dismissal policy, and Braxton helps me into the car. It’s been three days since I was rushed to the hospital, and I am anxious to get out. I am anxious to go home--back to the place where Braxton and I fell in love.Once I am in, Braxton closes the door behind me and slides in on the other
I am the woman in the painting now. It’s finally happened. When I first envisioned this beautiful scene, a man and woman with their arms around one another, standing in front of an ancient landmark with the Italian sun glinting as it dips below the horizon, I didn’t know for sure that I would ever occupy this space. But here I am, my arm around Braxton, his around mine, as we gaze at the sun setting behind the gorgeous scene before us.What makes it even more amazing is that we are not alone. In front of us, our children, our daughter Braxi and our son Julian, are running around, playing chase, and having the time of their lives. I never knew true romantic love until I met Braxton, and I never knew how full my heart could be until four years ago when the twins were born.Sometimes, I think back to my life before Braxton, when my days consisted of staying at home, cleaning, cooking, doing laundry, only getting out to go to the grocers. It was a meager existence, one that would’ve never
I turn off the hot water and place the last of the breakfast dishes into the dishwasher, giving the kitchen one last glance to make sure I didn’t miss anything. Jeff has already left for work, but if I’ve missed a dish, I’ll have to wash it by hand. He doesn’t like it when I miss something.Satisfied that all of the dishes are in the dishwasher, I put the soap in the compartment and push the start button. It’s not a big machine, but then, only two of us live in our tiny apartment for now. Jeff has made no secret that he hopes to have children soon. I’m not sure I’m ready. I’m not sure we are ready.Once the dishwasher is purring, I start to wipe down the counters and the stove. They are already clean. I constantly wipe down the surfaces in the kitchen because I have nothing better to do. Jeff has also made it clear that he doesn’t want his wife to have a job, even though he knows we could use the money. He has been at the financial advising firm for almost two years now. Meriweather a
I am a hands-on supervisor. That’s how my father ran this company, and that’s how I’ve always ran it, too, since I took over as Chief Executive Officer five years ago. At twenty-seven, I was the youngest CEO in the history of our company, which my great-great-grandfather started over a hundred years ago, but my degrees in finance and business from major universities, as well as my tutelage under my father, had more than prepared me to take over. And I’ve done an outstanding job, increasing our revenue and taking on new clients at a quick rate.That’s why I hate failure.As I gaze out through my glass windows at the crowd of employees moving quickly between offices and cubicles, my eyes fall on one face. Jeff Thompson, Vice-President of Finance for our largest branch. How he came to be a VP, I am not sure. In the two years that he has worked here, he has done nothing to impress me. In fact, he fails at almost every task I assign him. I should probably fire him.The only reason I haven’
I am the woman in the painting now. It’s finally happened. When I first envisioned this beautiful scene, a man and woman with their arms around one another, standing in front of an ancient landmark with the Italian sun glinting as it dips below the horizon, I didn’t know for sure that I would ever occupy this space. But here I am, my arm around Braxton, his around mine, as we gaze at the sun setting behind the gorgeous scene before us.What makes it even more amazing is that we are not alone. In front of us, our children, our daughter Braxi and our son Julian, are running around, playing chase, and having the time of their lives. I never knew true romantic love until I met Braxton, and I never knew how full my heart could be until four years ago when the twins were born.Sometimes, I think back to my life before Braxton, when my days consisted of staying at home, cleaning, cooking, doing laundry, only getting out to go to the grocers. It was a meager existence, one that would’ve never
I’m fine. I feel fine, anyway. My hand is still wrapped in gauze, and I’m told I may need more surgery down the road. I will definitely need physical therapy, but that’s okay. Braxton says he’ll pay for the person to come to the house so I don’t have to go to a clinic for my treatments. He’s even volunteered to find a therapist who will move into the house so I can have it every day. It amazes me how different it is to have a plethora of money at one’s disposal, but I will have to get used to it because, as the wheelchair takes me to the waiting car, I know I will be with Braxton forever now.I get out of the wheelchair, which I’m only sitting in because the hospital staff insists it’s part of their dismissal policy, and Braxton helps me into the car. It’s been three days since I was rushed to the hospital, and I am anxious to get out. I am anxious to go home--back to the place where Braxton and I fell in love.Once I am in, Braxton closes the door behind me and slides in on the other
“Mr. Merriweather, perhaps it would be better if you waited in the hallway,” Detective Margaret Folk says to me in a no nonsense sort of tone that tells me she is not used to having anyone disagree with her.I might be the first.But before I can even open my mouth, Shawna is speaking up on my behalf. “I see no reason why Mr. Merriweather can’t be in the room while you question Mrs. Thompson, unless of course, she would prefer for him to leave,” my lawyer says.Det. Folk arches an eyebrow, but it’s clear that Shawna is just as bold as the other woman, and when the investigator looks at Julia to see what she would like to do, Julia says, “I would like for him to say.”Shawna doesn’t gloat, but she does take a moment to introduce herself to Julia. “It’s nice to meet you,” she says, offering her hand. Julia shakes it lightly as Shawna tells her her name and says, “You have nothing to worry about.”Julia smiles at Shawna, but I can tell she’s nervous. She doesn’t want to be having this co
I am floating. I don’t feel as if I have a body anymore. I am only a spirit, hovering above the earth a little ways. I can’t feel a single thing--not my hands or feet or inner organs. Even my head feels lighter than air. My memory is hazy, and all I can recall is that something awful has happened. For a few moments, I try to remember if there’s a chance I am actually dead, and I feel like I am hovering above the ground because I am doing just that. Slowly, the memories come back to me. Just as they sink into my mind, reminding me about the window, about the pain and the blood, about the horror of seeing Jeff lying there, not on top of the car but partially through the roof of the vehicle, the feeling of my body begins to sink in as well. I can feel my eyelashes fluttering on my cheeks as I attempt to open my eyes. I can feel my hand resting on something soft. A bed, I think. My legs are stiff. My other hand… I can’t feel it at all. It’s as if I only have one now. Remembering what hap
I lie awake, staring at the ceiling above my bed, unable to sleep, though it’s getting late, and I know I have to go to work tomorrow. I can’t help but stretch my arm out across the bed, which I find cold and empty. Julia should be here, but she’s not. My thoughts return to her. Where is she now? How is she doing? Is Thompson with her? Is she hurt? Does she need me? My mind refuses to slow as all of the possibilities circle around. I wonder if I will ever be able to get her back.My phone is on, just in case she calls. I get all sorts of emails all time of day, so it is constantly chirping. I have learned to ignore it. Until I realize it isn’t just chiming to let me know an email has arrived. The phone is ringing.Hastily, I pick it up from my nightstand, praying that it’s Julia, but when I see that it is Stringer, my heart races just the same. I pray he has good news, that he’s gotten Julia back, and they are on their way to my home.“Stringer?” I say upon answering. “What’s going on
Glass grinds into my knees as I am tugged against the windowsill. Jeff is doing his best to pull himself back up into the apartment, but my grip on him is slipping. My knees are on fire as the glass slices deeper and deeper. I grab the windowsill with my free hand in an attempt to keep myself from flying out into the night air, but the broken glass cuts deep into my palm. Blood coats the window ledge and begins to drip down, red raindrops flying toward Jeff’s face.He is terrified. No longer drunk, the reality of what is happening has him sobered. He has my wrist and is trying to pull himself back up, but he is too heavy for me to lift. I hear Stringer coming to my aid, but Jeff reaches up with his other hand and grabs hold of me, and I am pulled further out the window. Glass digs into my chest, scraping down my stomach. I see the street below, and terror grabs hold of me even more strongly than my husband. With my last effort, I grab ahold of the window with my other hand as my legs
The driver wanted to help me carry my stuff up the stairs, but I insisted that he leave me. Now, I am standing outside of the familiar apartment door where I lived with Jeff for over two years. It seems foreign to me, like a place I was never meant to be in the first place. The fact that I’ve come back here of my own choice seems surreal. I stand staring at the door for a long moment, unable to force myself to take this last step. I’ve made it this far. I just need to go inside. I just need to speak to Jeff and let him know that I’ll stay with him as long as he promises to leave Braxton alone. The fact that he didn’t choose the money tells me that he’s so focused on winning, he isn’t thinking straight. I know this isn’t about me. It’s about allowing another man to dictate his fate. Jeff refuses to let that happen, even when that other man is a billionaire and his boss.I hear footsteps echoing up the nearby stairwell and know I need to go in. I don’t need neighbors seeing me standing
She’s gone. I can hardly believe it. I’m still standing in the foyer, near the window, where I watched my driver take her away, wondering how in the world I’m going to function without Julia here.I have no idea. Everywhere I look, I’m going to see her. Every room I walk into, I’ll smell her perfume. Every time I lay down in my bed, I’ll feel her beside me. I’ll see her near the pool, at the dining room table, in the gardens. And… in her art room. How can I possibly go into that room again without feeling the ghost of her?It’s obvious to me that Julia is making a huge mistake, but I can’t change her mind. It was clear to me when I saw her face that she was resolved and wasn’t going to be swayed. The idea of her walking back into that apartment, of her trying to live with Jeff Thompson again, as his wife, makes my skin crawl. I can’t bear to think of him touching her. Tears sting my eyes, and I have to rest my hand against the windowsill to keep from doubling over as a wave of nausea
Braxton’s face has my heart leaping up into my throat. After my initial statement, letting him know that I have to go, I don’t know how to explain myself to him, to tell him that I can’t stay or why.“What do you mean you have to go?” Braxton asks, taking a few cautious steps toward me but stopping well short of touching me. “Why would you need to go?”I clear my throat, swallowing hard. “Because… it’s for the best if I do.”His eyes widen in shock. “For the best? For who?”“For everyone,” I tell him. “Especially you.”“No, Julia,” he says as he shakes his head emphatically. “It is most definitely not best for me.”I disagree with him. “Braxton, I heard what happened today. Jeff didn’t take the settlement, right?”He doesn’t answer, only continues to stare at me, unblinking. I don’t need him to answer. I already know I am right.“For him to turn down that sort of money, it tells me he will be relentless, Braxton. He’s never going to stop. Never. He won’t leave us in peace. I need to g