CHAPTER THIRTEEN

NATALIE

I woke up in the biggest, most comfortable bed I ever slept in. 

The sheets smelled like fabric softener and Old Spice deodorant. Comforting and sexy. 

I smiled to myself as I rolled over and stretched, remembering last night and hoping it wasn't a dream. The tenderness between my legs proved that it wasn't. 

Waking up that morning felt almost like a rebirth for me. I knew without a doubt now that I was a whole, complete person, not a broken one. 

I could cum. I could drown in pleasurable sensations, rather than pretend to be somewhere else while I gritted my teeth through the pain. 

I could feel good in the most intimate way with another person. 

Sol was nowhere to be seen but I heard the familiar morning commotion downstairs and sprang out of bed. Pulling on my T-shirt and shorts from last night, I tried not to grin too widely as I bounded down the stairs with a new spring in my step. 

"Good morning, everyone!" I announced joyfully.

"Natalieeee!" 

Ari ran over to me and squeezed her arms around my waist in the tightest hug a six-year-old could muster. 

Netta glanced at me over her newspaper with a cocked eyebrow and a half-smirk, as if she knew exactly which room I came out of and why. 

"Mornin', kiddo," she greeted. 

Sol, perched at the kitchen island with a mug of coffee and his laptop in front of him, didn't say a word or even look up at me. 

I already gathered he wasn't much of a morning person and didn't think much of it. When Ari untangled herself from my legs and returned to her cartoons, I moved over to him and placed my hand on his forearm. 

"How are you this morning?" I asked. 

"Fine," was his cold reply. 

Despite the warmth from his body, his arm felt like cold steel under my hand. He didn't respond to my touch in the slightest and his eyes never tore away from the screen. 

I backed away, not hiding the surprise on my face. This sudden change in behavior made me feel jilted and confused. Did I do something wrong? Was he regretting what he did? What we did?

Sol cleared his throat awkwardly. 

"Netta, shouldn't you and Ari be getting to the farmer's market soon?" 

"But my show's not over yet!" Ari protested. 

Netta, on the other hand, took the hint without missing a beat. 

"Come on, young lady. We've got to get some doughnut holes while they're fresh. I wonder if the horses will be there too?"

"Horses!" Ari cried excitedly, forgetting all about her show and jumping up to race out to the driveway. 

Before closing the front door behind her, Netta shot a look at Sol that I couldn't read.

Finally, he glanced over at me with a heavy sigh but couldn't keep his eyes on my face.

"You can't stay here anymore.  I'm taking you to a woman's shelter today."

The shock that came over me seemed to suck all the sound out of the room. 

"What?" I cried, not believing my ears. "Why?"

"I'm sorry," he said, still not looking at me. "This isn't easy to do. But I have to think of my daughter, how this will affect her." He turned away. "I have to put her first and last night... I wasn't thinking." 

I stood rooted to my spot, somewhere between numb and feeling the fear I fought so hard against last night. The fear I thought I conquered. 

"What about Antigua?" I asked. "I thought you needed information that only I had."

"I'll manage," he replied with his back to me. "Take any belongings you have. We're leaving now." 

I wanted to yell, scream and stomp my feet. He couldn't tell me I wasn't allowed to leave one day and then force me out twenty-four hours later!

I thought I was getting to know him but obviously, I didn't. The moment he showed me how kind and warm he could be, he turned cold and bitter. 

The only thing I did know was how unwise it would be to refuse his orders. 

Like moving through a fog I packed the only things I owned, which were the few changes of clothes that Netta got for me. 

We drove in uncomfortable, tense silence for nearly an hour. Sol never looked at me, his face remaining stony and fixed to the road.

I glanced at him from time to time, wondering what his thought process was, why he was really doing this but didn't dare ask. 

At one point I spied the lipstick mark tattoo on his neck. How could he treat me like this when I had my own lips pressed to that spot only a few hours ago? When he kissed me with equal passion and sensuality? 

He's simply done with you and is now discarding you. Just like every man who ever touched you has done before.

Right after that thought vocalized in my mind, I faced forward in my seat and didn't look at him for the rest of the drive. 

He eventually pulled up to a building that looked like a small hotel. 

"Here we are," he said flatly. "We're two towns over from Cloverville. No one will find you here."

Some consolation that was. I moved to get out but he stopped me with a gentle touch on my arm. 

"Wait, Natalie." 

He reached into his pants pocket and pulled out a money clip holding a thick stack of bills. 

"It's five grand," he said, his voice thick with some emotion I couldn't place. "It’s not much but should help you rebuild your life."

It felt like he was paying me for what we did last night, which I knew wasn't his intent but it just made me feel worse.

By offering me money, he made me feel like it was nothing but a service I provided. The only thing I was good for. 

I almost stepped out of the car without taking it. To save what little pride and dignity I had left. And to not tarnish how wonderful it felt to be wrapped up in his arms, feeling his fingers stroking through my hair and sending goosebumps along my skin. 

But I snatched the money clip from his hand and exited the car without a word. As I walked up to the building I refused to look back, refused to let him see me cry.