Chapter Thirteen
“Any little girl can wear a tiara and call herself a queen. Becoming a queen is more than jewels. It’s a behavior that takes a lifetime to master.”
~Antoinette Patras
The following day, Isadora made a difficult, but empowering decision.
She wasn’t going to be sad anymore.
Sawyer might be wrong about some shining knight sweeping in and offering her the perfect future, but what if he was right? Regardless, she wasn’t going to live out her days waiting for someone else to come along and rescue her.
She was responsible for her own happiness and that attitude needed to start now, because she couldn’t stomach the weak-willed person she was becoming.
She was going to be a strong, independent woman—with or without a man by her side.
First step in finding one’s independence was learning to lean on oneself. She made an executive decision that would force her to take on more responsibilities—and called her brother.
“I think Lucy should start working at the country house for you. It’s vacant and could probably use some attention.”
“It’s vacant, because I’m never there, Isa. I don’t need a maid.”
“I don’t want to lay her off, Lucian.”
“Why would you?”
“Because she’s no longer necessary here. I’ll keep Louis on as a driver as needed , but Lucy only does chores I should be doing, or Toni, for that matter. It’ll do her good to have to vacuum her own bedroom or run a load of laundry now and then.”
He laughed. “And you actually expect her to do those things?”
“Yes. I’ll be doing them as well. There’s no reason why we can’t take care of ourselves.”
She was tired of trusting others with her wellbeing. And she didn’t want her sister repeating her mistakes by relying on other people to make her happy.
“You do realize how ridiculous that sounds, don’t you?”
“It’s ridiculous that the other day Toni actually asked me why some people don’t have cars. She has no concept of how privileged she is and I refuse to let her grow into some pampered heiress.”
“She is an heiress.”
“Well…” She couldn’t argue with the truth.
Why was it fine for Lucian to be so independently driven, yet when she wanted the same for her and her sister he called it ridiculous? That was exactly the sort of mindset she wanted to change in this family.
“Do you want Lucy or not?”
“Fine. Tell Lucy to take a ride over to the house and make a list of what she’ll need to get settled. Have her email it to me.”
And so it began. Her decision to take charge of things around the house was the first step in her Become More Independent Plan .
She was accountable for her. That meant figuring out how to be self-sufficient.
There were some bumps. The first time the vacuum clogged she lost her shit, smacking the contraption with a hanger when she couldn’t get it to work. But she didn’t give up. She had a drink, dismantled the thing, and eventually got it working again. It didn’t matter that it now made a hideous shrieking sound when it ran. She fixed it.
Toni was outraged by her new list of responsibilities, to say the least. She started wearing clothes she hadn’t tried on in years, expecting that once she wore through her wardrobe Isadora would take her shopping for more clothing. Either that or they’d call Lucy back to wash and iron the soiled garments.
Isadora did no such thing.
Isadora didn’t have an ultimate goal in mind, but every day she looked for clues about herself and focused on new objectives that built back her pride. Twenty-six years old and she was finally growing up. She was moving on to better things—happier things. If there was something she didn’t like about herself, she worked to improve it.
If she was going to be the sort of women who didn’t have a man in her life—a strong probability—she needed to acquire more skills. Things were always breaking around the house and, without the servants, she either had to teach herself to fix items or hire contractors, which brought her to another issue.
Financial stability was something she grew up with, but didn’t know how to cultivate. It was a point of embarrassment that Isadora wasn’t sure how much money she actually had within her grasp. Bonds, stocks, and a trust fund that paid out like pensions, it was all very comforting, but nothing she could take credit for earning.
She wasn’t wasteful, but she certainly wasn’t frugal. That was going to change.
She put herself on a strict budget and banked the majority of her monthly allowance from her trusts in a private account earmarked for her future. One day she intended to own this house and know that no one, not even her father, could threaten her sense of security.
By fall, she had tightened her wallet so much she actually saved a handsome sum. She wanted to celebrate, so for Toni’s birthday she treated her sister to a day in the city.
They made reservations at the Patras Hotel restaurant and were given the royal treatment. Yet she had the satisfaction of only spending what she could afford. Demanding a bill confused the hotel staff, but she was sticking to her principles. This was her gift to Toni, not their father’s.
Isadora enjoyed their time so much, she decided to reserve a penthouse suite and stay the night, scheduling a day at the spa for both of them the next morning.
Lying in the overstuffed hotel bed wearing Patras bathrobes and pigging out on ice cream sundaes while watching cheesy romantic comedies, Isadora savored the fact that her sister was growing up and they could now enjoy some of the same things.
“You should have let Daddy to treat us to dinner and dessert,” Toni commented, sucking the fudge off her spoon.
Isadora studied her sister, wondering how long it would take for her to understand sometimes pride was more valuable than money. “I can afford to treat you without his help.” Patras was not cheap, but it was a bittersweet sort of expense.
“Doesn’t spending that sort of money go against your whole mid-life crisis thing you have going on?”
Isadora scoffed and gave her sister a playful shove. “Brat! I’m not having a crisis and you have to be middle-aged to have a mid-life anything.”
“Then what are you doing? The other day I saw you reading a book about plumbing.”
“The trap in the sink was clogged!”
“So call a plumber, Isa. Reading a book about outer space doesn’t make someone an astronaut. The minute you start trying to fix things they’re going to really break.”
“It was a clogged drain, not rocket science, Toni. Plumbers are expensive.”
“Oh, my god.” She held up her hand as if she’d heard enough. “Reality check, Isadora Patras. You can afford a plumber!”
“It’s not about the money. It’s about taking care of myself, about dignity and pride. So, if you could stop acting like I’m some sort of freak for trying to fix our kitchen sink I’d appreciate it.”
Her sister’s expression softened and she studied her for a quiet moment then nodded. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to make fun of you.” Then she smirked. “But don’t expect me to strap on a tool belt.”
Pulling Toni back to the center of the bed, Isa pursed her lips. “I won’t. I couldn’t fix the stupid drain anyway. We don’t own pliers and the slip nut thingie was on too tight.”
Toni laughed until she snorted. “Did you call a plumber?”
“He’s coming out on Tuesday,” Isa mumbled.
She put her empty ice cream dish on the table and shut off the bedside lamp, snuggling deeper under the covers. Toni did the same.
A new movie started and they fell into a comfortable silence. Isadora was just starting to doze off when something brushed her fingers.
Toni’s hand closed around hers under the covers and squeezed. “Thanks for today, Isa. It was a perfect birthday.”
Glancing at her sister, she tried to find her voice. Her gratitude was a gift in itself. “You’re welcome.”
It was the first time Isadora allowed herself to honestly believe they might someday be best friends. The world was a big, often lonely, place. As independent as she hoped to eventually be, she never wanted any of her siblings to stop depending on each other.
Lacing her fingers with Toni’s, she squeezed back. “Get some sleep. We have to get up early for our appointment in the morning.”
The next day, Isadora awoke with the intention of getting a manicure and a massage at the salon, but Toni convinced her to get a haircut, too. It was a big change since she’d kept the same boring length for the last decade.
Nine inches of her waves were gone, replaced with a long bob that brushed her shoulders. The new cut gave her a more sophisticated look, according to the stylist. In the end, she was beyond pleased.
“We should buy you a new wardrobe,” Toni said, as they stepped onto the tasseled runner exiting the hotel.
“I don’t need new clothes.”
“Oh, come on, Isa. Your clothes are old. Every new look deserves a few new outfits. Unless you’re afraid someone might mistake you for a twenty-six year old.”
She gave her sister a sidelong glance. “You’re quite the little smart ass today.”
“Is that a yes?”
Isadora sighed. “I’m trying to be more prudent with my spending.”
Toni chuckled, but bit her lips so as not to comment. Isadora could see how ridiculous her sister found her words. Maybe she was being a little extreme.
“Fine,” Isa agreed. “But we’re not going crazy.”
Toni clapped with excitement. “This is going to be so much fun!”
They visited multiple boutiques on the main line of Folsom and acquired so many packages she wasn’t sure they’d fit in the car. So much for not going crazy, but Toni could be a persistent little bugger.
After shopping, they ended their retail excursion with a late lunch at a small café outside of the historic district. Isadora was laughing as her sister did an unflattering impression of her gym teacher when a vaguely familiar voice interrupted them.
“Isadora?”
She turned but didn’t recognize the handsome man hovering beside their table.
Seeing she couldn’t place him, he smiled. “Tyrian, from Ian and Vivian’s wedding. We danced together.”
“Oh, Tyrian! I’m so sorry. It’s been a long day… My brain…” She also might have remembered him if he’d called .
“I was hoping I’d eventually run into you. The number you put in my phone is out of service.”
She frowned. “What? How could that be?”
He pulled out his phone and pressed a few buttons. Flashing her the screen, she read her name and heard the recording that played when a phone number didn’t work.
“Oh, my gosh. I probably typed it in wrong.” It hadn’t been the best night and she’d been in a rush to leave.
He smiled, appearing to accept that it was an honest mistake. “How have you been?”
“I’ve been … good. And yourself?” She was definitely doing better than she’d been a few weeks ago.
“No complaints.” He glanced at Toni and Isadora remembered her manners.
“This is my sister, Antoinette. Antoinette, this is Tyrian. He’s a friend of Vivian’s husband’s.”
“Hi,” her sister chirped, smiling widely.
“Nice to meet you.” He turned back to Isadora. “I’m still hoping for the chance to buy you dinner. Are you free this week?”
Her cheeks pulled tight, his charm warming her soul. “My schedule’s pretty flexible. When would you like to go?”
“How about next weekend?”
She ignored Toni’s gawking. “That would work. Why don’t you call me and we’ll figure out the details?”
“Definitely, but I’ll need a working number.”
She flushed as he handed her his phone. Sure enough there was a five where there should have been a seven. She fixed it and passed the phone back to him.
“I’m sorry about that.”
“I’ll let you get back to your lunch. I’ll call you soon.” He turned to Toni. “It was nice meeting you.”
As he walked away her sister continued to stare, her mouth agape with a wide smile, eyes unblinking. “Who. Was. That ?”
Just then Isa’s phone rang. She dug it out of her bag but didn’t recognize the number. “Hello?”
“Just checking,” Tyrian said.
She glanced out the window and there he was, calling her from the sidewalk. She smiled like an idiot. It was sort of adorable. “Now I’ve got your number, too.”
He had a smile that triggered something jittery inside of her, something nice. Eyes on her, he winked and a small dimple formed in his cheek. “I’ll call you tonight.”
“Okay.” Feeling Toni’s gaze she ended the call and typed his name into her contacts. “Stop staring at me.”
“That was like something out of a movie! He’s, like, super hot, Isa. Are you really going to go out with him?”
She shrugged, her face burning up. “If he calls.”
“He already did! He’s totally into you!”
“You think?”
Stuff like this didn’t happen to her. She covered her face with her palms and hid an uncharacteristic smile as she stifled the urge to squeak like a teenage girl.
When she had herself under control, she peeked through her fingers at Toni. “You really think he’s into me?”
“Um, yeah .”
Isa glanced out the window again, but he was gone. Her cheeks pulled into another smile and she looked at her sister and giggled. “I have a date this weekend. An actual date!”
The rest of their lunch was spent mentally reviewing their purchases and deciding what she should wear on said date.
Tyrian called and showed great initiative. He orchestrated everything down to the reservations. All she had to do was be ready on Saturday by seven.
It was strange having a man pick her up at home in front of Toni, but the more they bonded over the experience the more Isa realized how much hiding parts of her personal life had cost their relationship. Her sister took great pleasure in helping her get ready and even did her makeup, though Isadora refused to wear the bright lipstick she selected.
“It looks pink.”
“It’s more of a frosty nude, Isa. It’s sexy.”
She stared at the lipstick, hating that certain colors didn’t register with her eyes. Her world was awash in faded blues and browns, but she rarely thought about her vision, having been colorblind since birth. The only time it really bothered her was when she was trying to look nice.
In moments like this, she had no choice but to trust Toni’s judgment. “You swear it’s not too much?”
“I swear.” Toni painted a thin coat on her lips and smiled. “You look gorgeous.”
When Tyrian’s car pulled up Toni fluttered around like a nervous wreck.
“You do realize he’s my date,” Isadora reminded dryly.
“I know, but he’s so cute. How are you so calm?”
She rolled her eyes. Toni was nervous enough for the both of them. “I shouldn’t be late. Behave yourself.”
***
Tyrian was lovely company. He conversed easily, employed chivalrous manners any girl would appreciate, and he smelled good.
They talked about the upcoming election with little tension, even though they were voting for different candidates. He was very diplomatic, never quite announcing which side of any position he favored, but making it clear he was well informed on several topics. They discussed their families and played a game of seven degrees of separation to see which friends they might have in common.
His father was in the oil business, most of their company stationed down in Texas. It was refreshing, knowing his family had money. Not because she was superficial, but because it made her father’s fortune less obtrusive.
At the end of the night, he walked her to the door and kissed her on the cheek. When she told Toni nothing happened, her sister seemed disappointed.
“No,” Isadora disagreed. “A kiss on the cheek is classy. It says he likes me enough not to rush things and ruin the chance at a second date.”
At least that was what she wanted her teenage sister to believe. Isadora honestly didn’t know what a cheek peck meant in adult dating terms.
“Is there going to be a second date?”
“I don’t know. I guess that depends on him.” She already decided that if he wanted to take her out again, she’d go on another date. But only if he wanted to. She refused to push him.
But there was a second date. And a third. And a tenth.
Over the next two months Tyrian became a steady part of her life. She had yet to feel any real butterflies like she experienced from the start of her and Sawyer’s intimate relationship, but she and Sawyer also slept together an hour after they discovered their chemistry. Maybe butterflies with Tyrian would come once they reached that stage.
On their way to a new restaurant in Folsom they drove past Leningrad, one of her father’s many companies. Seeing the building where Sawyer spent a majority of his days brought about a slew of emotions she’d been camouflaging with convenient distractions for the past several months. But she refused to give into her curiosity, wondering where he was or how he’d been passing his time.
Those sorts of thoughts still hurt. Still .
She believed Tyrian was more than just a distraction. He was fun, entertaining, and often made her laugh. He was more like a sedative, dulling the ache in her heart and helping her pass time while she healed. But nothing, not even her new relationship, allowed her to escape the pain altogether.
Pulling her gaze from Leningrad, she turned to her date and focused on the present. “I heard great things about this restaurant.”
He smiled as he navigated the evening traffic. “Me too.”
“Do you think there will be a wait?” The restaurant opened only a few days ago and the chef was a big crowd-pleaser according to reviews.
“We have reservations, so we should get right in.”
When they arrived at the restaurant there was a line snaking onto the pavement. Patrons were dressed in business formal attire and a valet service was working double time to keep up. Rather than wait in line, Tyrian escorted her to the hostess station.
A man was complaining to the maître d’ so they waited a few paces back for the hostess to return.
“Our reservations were for an hour ago. Why make reservations if you can’t honor them?” the patron argued.
“Sir, I do apologize for the wait. You’re next to be seated.”
Uh-oh. They might be waiting longer than expected.
The man appeared utterly flustered. “It’s our anniversary. I made these reservations last week.”
The maître d’ looked over the man’s shoulder and spotted them, abruptly forgetting about the unsatisfied patron in front of him. “Ah, Ms. Patras. We weren’t expecting you tonight.”
She wanted to crawl into a hole and disappear as the couple celebrating their anniversary noted the host’s preferential attitude. Nudging Tyrian forward, she let him relay the details of their reservation.
Tyrian gave his name and Isadora’s gaze skated back to the disgruntled man who was now making excuses to his wife. The woman wore what appeared to be a new dress. Her hair was done in a twist that looked fresh from a salon.
Menus in hand, the hostess returned and the maître d’ instructed Isa and Tyrian to follow her into the dining room. Isadora hesitated and sent Tyrian a pleading look.
“It’s their wedding anniversary,” she whispered.
He glanced at the couple and back to her, appearing to read her mind. “Are you sure?”
She nodded and he turned to the couple. “Please, take our table. You’re celebrating.”
The man and woman wore matching expressions of surprise.
“Sir,” the maître d’ protested, but Isadora ignored him, captivated by her date’s show of generosity.
The couple thanked them profusely and she and Tyrian wished them a happy anniversary.
As Tyrian escorted her back to the valet, he asked, “How do you feel about burgers and shakes?”
Enchanted, she slipped her arm into his and stepped onto the pavement. “That sounds perfect.”
They wound up at a little outdoor spot sipping shakes and eating greasy burgers. A mess of crumpled napkins piled between them as they picked at their fries.
“I like to dip mine in my milkshake,” Tyrian said, slipping the plastic lid off his cup.
“I do that too!”
He laughed. “I’m also a fan of pretzels in ice cream.”
“Mmm. I’ll have to try that.”
In that moment she admitted to herself that she liked Tyrian as more than just a friend. Maybe instant butterflies weren’t the only way people felt affection. Maybe some connections developed at a slower pace and came with other signals.
With every date their kisses grew more frantic and the need to do more increased until they were practically clawing at each other’s clothing in the front seat of his car. Isadora missed fooling around and Tyrian was a good kisser, but sometimes when she shut her eyes she accidentally pictured someone else’s face.
Pulling apart, Tyrian eyed her with evident desire. “How would you feel about spending tomorrow night at my place?”
His question was expected, but it still managed to take her off guard. Despite her ramped up libido, her stomach plummeted.
Were they already there? At that point? Her mind immediately went to Sawyer. Agreeing to spend the night with Tyrian felt like sweeping a big eraser over her past, something she wasn’t sure she was ready to do.
Was Sawyer sleeping with someone else?
Don’t go there.
It had been months and Sawyer hadn’t contacted her while she’d tried to move on with her life. But she often worried he might be lonely in that huge house all by himself. She inwardly sighed and looked down into her lap. Forcing herself to move forward was supposed to ease the pain. So why did this decision hurt?
She was no longer wallowing over the things she couldn’t have. She was too busy to feel badly about her situation. But when life got quiet, the ache in her heart knocked her down hard. And every time she had to pick herself back up she was reminded how much he’d hurt her and tampered with her trusting nature, causing issues in other parts of her life.
But sometimes, when she was with Tyrian, she forgot to think about Sawyer at all. That always made her feel victorious and guilty at the same time.
She was doing things with her life, becoming more independent every day. Yet she’d never felt so artificial.
The sex appeal was there, but only as a biological response. The desire to date was real, but only to subdue her loneliness. She wasn’t sure if anything she was experiencing actually had to do with Tyrian. Yet it seemed to have everything to do with Sawyer and the mess he’d left.
Glancing at Tyrian she tallied his good qualities. There were a lot. He was a great guy, a true gentleman, and most importantly, he seemed genuinely open to possibly falling in love.
When she thought of his drawbacks there was only one. He wasn’t Sawyer.
She didn’t love Tyrian, but she also hadn’t loved Sawyer from the start. Love took time and maybe she wasn’t giving it or Tyrian a chance. She wanted someone to love her, someone who would never hurt her.
Was that even possible?
The familiar pang that dulled but never waned swept through her as her fingers tightened into a fist. She doubted that the ache would ever disappear, so there was no point in prolonging the inevitable.
She glanced again at Tyrian. Did she trust him? Yes. Would he be a good lover? Probably. Did she want to have sex? Desperately, but what if it was different and not in a good way?
“Isa?”
Most women her age had multiple experiences with numerous men. Was it really such a big deal to take a risk and try something new? Recollections of her brother and Sawyer encouraging her to step out of her comfort zone raced through her mind. She was on the cusp of something—maybe a great something—but she needed a little push.
She forced herself to say the words. “I can call my brother to see if he can stay with Toni tomorrow night.” That at least gave her twenty-four hours to come to terms with her decision.
Tyrian kissed her, his hunger and excitement evident, but her private misgivings made it impossible to revel in her own anticipation.
Several times throughout the following day she considered faking the flu and canceling, but she never worked up the nerve to make the call. Like everything else in her romantic life, sleeping with Tyrian set her head and heart in opposing positions. Her brain told her sex with someone new would be good for her, but her heart whimpered every time she tried to picture making love to anyone but Sawyer.
Before she knew it, she was dressing for her date and Lucian had arrived to stay with Toni. Although her sister was old enough to watch herself, Isadora didn’t want her staying home alone all night and she had no idea if she’d be back before morning.
It was happening. Something was definitely swirling in her stomach, but she was pretty sure they weren’t butterflies. Several times while getting ready she had to pause and take a deep breath.
“Am I going to meet him?” Lucian asked, as he scooped ice cream into bowls in the kitchen.
“That depends on your behavior,” Isa teased, finding her brother a great distraction from her nerves. “You’re always threatening the boys Toni likes.”
“That’s because they want to do things to my sister.”
She arched a brow. “And I called you over so I could go out and play checkers? Why do you think you’re here, Lucian?”
“So you want me to kill him?”
She laughed. “You’re too easy.” She closed her purse and went to the front window to check if Tyrian had arrived while Lucian trailed behind, his expensive shoes making only the slightest sound in their entryway.
“You like this guy.”
It was a strange assessment, one she couldn’t deny or fully agree with.
“It’s still early.”
Headlights turned onto their property and her heart tripped out of beat.
“This isn’t the same guy from before, is it?”
She let the curtains fall. “No. That’s over.”
It was important to say it out loud, but excruciating to hear.
She said goodnight to Toni and met Tyrian in the driveway. Lucian followed her outside and shook his hand, but saved the cross-examination for another time.
Isadora never had an active father in her life, but in that moment she felt like she did. Somehow embarrassed that her little brother was assessing a man she intended to sleep with, she said a quick goodnight and politely urged Tyrian into the car.
When they arrived at his place Tyrian cooked a homemade meal, which helped relieve some of her tension. Dinner was casual and they both appeared at ease. She was quite impressed with his culinary skills.
“Everything was delicious. Thank you.”
“I have to admit, I called my mom about a hundred times asking questions.”
“That’s sweet.” He was so close to his parents. The next step in their relationship was probably for her to meet them.
Trying to imagine how that might go made her feel like an absolute phony. She so badly wanted to be in a committed serious relationship, but her heart never seemed to follow the right pace. She hoped delay that introduction as long as possible. Maybe in time, as they crossed certain benchmarks, meeting his family wouldn’t feel so intimidating.
After dinner they sat in the living room and talked, which eventually led to kissing. Regardless of her reservations, a tender tugging formed in her belly and she found herself leaning closer in an invitation for more. It had been so long since she’d had sex, her body was perhaps making the greatest argument of all.
“Do you want to go upstairs?” he whispered, his lips playing over her throat and teasing a sensitive spot at her collarbone.
Giving a slight nod of agreement, she adjusted her clothes and he helped her off the couch. But as she stood her body quickly cooled. Her legs seemed made of cement as she trudged up the stairs, making it harder to move the closer they came to his bedroom.
By the time they reached his room her heart was winning and her brain’s arguments to push forward had quieted into soft whispers racing through her confused mind. Meanwhile, her body was so tense, she couldn’t figure out if her heart was racing with anticipation or fear.
She was going to back out. She came here, convinced herself this was right, and now she was going to completely embarrass the both of them by changing her mind.
No! If she wanted to heal she had to keep moving. Her heart was one thing, but she was not frigid. She was momentarily spooked, but downstairs her body had been having all the proper biological responses. And her brain, before this very moment, had decided this was right. She was just getting cold feet. Brain plus body had to outnumber heart.
You’re doing this! Once it’s done it won’t feel so unfamiliar. You’re getting yourself worked up for nothing!
Stepping to opposite sides of the bed, she thought in terms of movement, breaking every task down into manageable increments. Clothes would need to come off and she would need to lie down.
Start with your shirt…
She needed to shove past this mental blockade and force her hands to cooperate. Her mind flashed to the night she’d first met Tyrian. Sawyer had inadvertently orchestrated that, insisting she dance with another man.
Sawyer is gone. It’s over. He doesn’t want you anymore. This is what he wanted for you.
Something other than fear broke through the wall. Anger.
You have to move on. This is the next step. You need to get over him.
Her anger morphed into understanding. Sawyer was right. He was her safety net, her familiar home, but she’d never experience anything worthwhile if she couldn’t jump into the unknown.
You might enjoy it. Just let it happen.
Her shoulders unknotted as she considered how pleasurable it might be. First times were always a touch awkward, weren’t they?
Can you see yourself having children with this man?
A mental wall slammed down, thereby shoving her out of her thoughts and plummeting her into the present. Time to stop thinking and start doing.
With an unsteady hand, she unbuttoned the front of her blouse, her fingers working robotically from top to bottom as her eyes focused on the bed. Drawing in a deep breath, she forced herself to meet his gaze, but could only hold it for a split second, so she slid off her jeans.
Breathing unsteadily, she stood before him in her bra and panties. Her gaze traveled over the bedding as she watched him undress through her lashes. Still unable to make eye contact, she slid under the covers and he did the same.
Her heart rattled like a tin can dragging down a country road. She could hardly move a muscle for fear that she might run out of the room like a lunatic. The light went off and her panic skyrocketed. His body eased closer, and at the first brush of his hand over her hip her mind took a vacation, traveling outside of herself where she watched the moment like an outsider looking in.
Unlike Sawyer, Tyrian touched her in an almost mathematical sense, as if her body was a formula he needed to solve. His touch moved from her breasts to her sides to her hips, and back to her breasts again, as if this would somehow equate to sex. It was as clinical and as unemotional as a doctor exam, the sort during which you stare at a pharmaceutical ad so your mind can get through without screaming.
He didn’t caress her the way Sawyer did, yet he’d done enough for her body to form a biological response. Rolling to his side, he reached into a drawer and tore open a foil packet.
She’d never had sex with a condom, but was glad for it in this instance. The idea of having nothing between them was far too intimate.
He fit himself between her legs, his nearness overwhelming and her knees trembling. A tightness formed in her chest, swelling up to her throat as her eyes prickled.
“You’re tight. Try to relax, babe.”
His voice was gentle, as was his touch. Her mind teetered between willing her body to open and telling him to get off. Before she made up her mind, he pressed forward and there was no going back.
She’d agreed to this. At some point she’d convinced herself this was necessary. Yet, as he pumped his hips between her thighs, breathed over her skin, touched her breasts, and took his pleasure, she felt like something sacred was being ripped away.
Sawyer had been her first and her only. He was her first partner, her first relationship, her first love. With every thrust she felt his memory slipping away. Staring over Tyrian’s shoulder into the dark, a slow tear trickled to her hair.
Tyrian never realized she cried, but he was intuitive enough to recognize that their first time wasn’t what it should have been. In the end, he held her back to his front and whispered hopeful words regarding their next time. There wouldn’t be a next time.
Although he was gentle and did everything a woman could expect, it was the most painfully intimate experience of her life—one she had no intention of repeating. Physically, she wanted an intimate connection, but that sort of emotional intimacy could not be forced. She’d forced herself to do this and it was simply too soon. She wasn’t ready.
Tyrian was not the man for her. Or more accurately, she was not the woman for him. He deserved someone who could offer him one hundred percent, but sleeping together proved that her heart still belonged to someone else.
It was simply too excruciating to re-cross certain lines and she wasn’t ready—no matter how much she wanted to be. Her logic didn’t matter. Her libido didn’t matter. All that mattered was her heart, and that might be more broken than she wanted to admit.
Distracting herself with the motions of moving on had healed nothing. More time wasted.
When Tyrian called, she made excuses not to see him, but after a few days he asked her point blank if something was wrong.
“We’re moving a little too fast for me.” It was the most honest excuse she could give him.
She didn’t think other adult couples waited fifteen dates to sleep together, but she didn’t know what else to tell him. Tyrian made a valiant effort to convince her not to give up on them, but she was done. She was done with trying to find a replacement for the one man, the only man, she wanted.
If it happened it happened, but she wasn’t going to waste any more time searching for a soulmate when everything inside her believed she was destined to be alone.
Summer approached and that meant fewer obligations with Toni once school let out. She was stuck in the past, but time continued to move on. In a little over a year her sister would be driving and Isadora would be even less necessary than she was today.
The idea that she might soon be obsolete in some way terrified her. She needed to feel necessary, but every person she loved was outgrowing her help.
Late May, unable to sleep, she went to the kitchen to make a cup of chamomile tea. Sitting in the library, she stared at her surroundings, wondering how she felt at home in a house that wasn’t hers. The furniture, the old books, the drapes … they were all forgotten pieces of her parents’ prior life. She was as forgotten as the chair she sat in while she sipped her tea.
Her gaze rested on the ornate chess set for a long while, recalling how her father would badger Lucian on a regular basis, challenging him, never once letting the little boy win a match.
Kings, queens, bishops, knights… Onyx and ivory little figures set in perfect rows. She pitied the pawns, with their low stature and unimpressive detail. But she envied the royal figures for the ease in which they moved, never hesitating to change the game.
Why was it taking her so long to change her life? She’d become more independent. She’d saved money. But her larger goals still seemed a million miles away. More powerful players inserting obstacles she wasn’t sure she could pass.
She was a pawn.
Her life only moved when it served others. Her one duty was to protect her brother and sister, a pawn meant to shield a king and queen. Insignificant. Sacrificial.
The bishops were able to cut across the playing field in one swift move, jerking the game back and forth. Every piece had some sort of privilege, but not the pawns.
Pawns lived a lifetime of slow aggression, one isolated square at a time. Everyone knew the pawns were the first to be knocked out of the game, the sacrificial lambs with such little value they were rarely missed once they were gone.
Players rarely considered the sacrifice of the pawn.
There were, however, ways for pawns to get promoted. If they were brave enough to push past the bishops and other pieces blocking their way, they could make it to the other side. If a pawn succeeded, it then became a queen.
She was tired of being a pawn, tired of making sacrifices for everyone but herself. But she honestly didn’t know if she was meant for more.
Her hand reached out, slowly sliding an ivory pawn out of line. She stared at the piece for so long the room illuminated with predawn light.
Turning the board, she slid an onyx pawn forward. The white pawn advanced again. And then the bishop slithered out of hiding, landing in the neighboring square.
It was her move, but she wasn’t sure how to proceed, because like her actual life, she always seemed to be competing against herself. If she traveled forward, she could leave the bishop behind. Perhaps it would get knocked out of the game completely—lost forever.
Her alter ego, the fed up darker side of her soul, challenged her every move, determining which direction the onyx pieces should move and setting obstacles in her path. She was partial to the ivory figures, but the white pieces only seemed practiced at playing defense. Perhaps it was time she did something aggressive and switched to offense. Maybe that was the way to change the game.
Her fingers hesitated over the board, her eyes seeing no sensible way to take the bishop or move the ivory pawn. It was a mind game, one she was playing against herself. The white pieces were hers and the dark figures were every obstacle holding her back.
Leaving the game, she went to the desk and opened her laptop. Signing online, she filled in the search bar, her history predicting what she sought before she finished typing the first word.
The local university’s website opened and she clicked on the admissions page. Her mouse toggled through the menu until she was staring at the online enrollment form. Her personal information slowly appeared on the screen. It was time to make a move. Drawing in a deep breath, she hit send.
“No more excuses,” she whispered. She was done being a pawn.
As she walked past the chessboard on her way out of the library, she paused. Without thinking of the consequences, she moved the queen into the center and took out the bishop. No more games.