Isabella
As the limo makes wide turns through the narrow streets of Queens, I fume in silence and glare across the seat at my husband.
So, he thinks I’m hearing things? Called my therapist?
I let that sink in as we make our way past the blocks of brownstones into Brooklyn. Many of the buildings have bright flower boxes lining their first-floor windows or tiny gardens by their stoops. Formerly blue collar, tattooed millennials now rush over the sidewalks with grocery bags and strollers.
God, I miss this place.
Grayson’s eyes capture mine, his big warm hands over mine. “Don’t be mad, I’m only thinking of you… and Skye.”
“But Gray, for heaven’s sake, I know the difference between real and fantasy.” I shrug out of his grasp to deal with Skye while she pulls at her pink cap and fusses.
Unsnapping it from under her chin, I lean over and place it in his hands. “Congratulations, it worked.”
Maybe my tone was over-the-top because he gives me the silent treatment the rest of the trip.
Ah shit. What the hell am I going to do?
Certainly, I can’t stay with a man who tries to make me think I’m crazy. Damn, most women would consider it emotional abuse. Have I fallen so low?
Taking a deep breath, for the first time I consider a scary possibility. What if he’s right and I am delusional? How would I know?
Surely, my therapist would tell me, wouldn’t she?
A stabbing pain shoots from behind my eyes, the familiar headache back. Maybe Gray paid these women to keep them quiet. He’s got plenty to spare. A few thousand dollars would seem like a small fortune to them.
But he’s not like that, Izzy.
How much do I really know about my husband? His past? He could’ve worked for the cartels. The wife is always the last to know.
Shit. He’s talking at me so I try to catch up.
“…poker. Why not show off Skye, then leave her with me? That way you can have a few hours to relax and the two girls can play.”
Two girls? He must be talking about going to CJ’s with the baby. So, he’s practicing how to be a single dad? I want to say no but if he’s going to leave me, it’s best he gets a clue.
“Sure, sounds like a great idea.” I plaster a fake smile on my face while he shoots me a real one, the one that makes my panties melt.
I moan. How will I live without him?
When Slate lets me out in front of the bar, I can’t even bear to look at my husband. And when he hands Skye out to me, I swallow hard and gulp for a breath. How can he make the sweetest love, then turn it all around? Did he do it on purpose? Is he that manipulative?
Heart in my throat, I rush across the sidewalk, through the double glass doors, and past the pool table.
Emily, the owner, jumps up from a barstool.
The small ring in her eyebrow dances as she hugs us both tightly to her chest. “Mmmm. I’ve missed you so much. Is this Skye?”
“In the flesh.” I let her hold the baby who reaches out little hands, kicks her legs, and babbles hello in baby-speak.
Grinning wide, the redhead lets the baby pull her hair and shouts across the room to her partner tending bar. “Hey Bryan, look over here.”
A tall skinny man with a pony tail nods at me and raises his glass. “Congratulations.”
“Everyone’s already here.” Emily bounces the baby on her hip and leads the way down the stairs.
Talon, a speakeasy during prohibition, is the perfect place for our meetings. It has a private room in the basement with brick walls and a lounge-like atmosphere. A slightly-cracked, antique mirror sits over a turn-of-the-century faux fireplace.
“Yea! You’re here!” Melanie jumps up from the silver-studded couch and tugs me into a warm embrace.
“Group hug,” shout six other women who crowd around in a circle.
Emily chuckles and hands back Skye so she can draw a pitcher of artisan beer. I get introduced to the new girls, Star, Asia, and Lila. The other three, Frankie, Kelli, and Sam have been in the group as long as me. It’s hard to believe I’ve been coming to these meetings for over a year.
Mel pours, passes around glasses of amber liquid, we clink, but after a small sip, I put mine down. “I really shouldn’t, I’m nursing.”
“Read.” Mel shoves a printout from the American Pediatrics Society. “It’s says it’s fine if you hold off feeding for four more hours.”
I glance at the time. “Damn, girl. Now I remember why you’re my best friend.”
She eyes me over her glass and shakes her head. “I, however will abstain and live vicariously through all of you.”
After everyone gushes over Mel’s news and gets an opportunity to hold Skye, I run back outside. I shoot a smile to Slate who stands by the open back door of the limo. Leaning in, I put Skye in my husband’s arms.
Suddenly, I’m not so sure this is a good idea. “Everything she needs is in the red bag. There’s a bottle in a cooler and—”
“We got this Izzy. Go. Have fun.”
“And no cigars, not around the babies.”
Grayson raises his brows with his mouth turned down. “We got this, babe.”
“Okay… but call me if you need anything, anything at all.”
He shuts the window without another word and I just stand there and inhale exhaust fumes until the limo turns the corner.
Shit, I am really fucking up.
Back downstairs, I quietly sip my beer, sink deep into the leather couch and let the rest chatter excitedly about their lives.
They quiet down when Mel clinks on a glass with her spoon. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to start. I’ve been having bad dreams again and maybe you all can help.”
Occasionally, we all wake with cold sweats and hearts pounding. When I confronted my abuser, my night-terrors got better, that is, until recently.
Ice cubes snap in her seltzer, candlelight flickers, and she closes her eyes. “In my dream, I shove all my weight against the front door, hoping the bicep of the intruder will withdraw. I can’t see his face but we’ve met thousands of times before in similar dreams and I’m certain of one thing. He wants me dead and no matter how hard I try, the door will fly open.”
Eyes glassy, Mel focuses on a spot over the bar, as if a screen were there, playing out the movie in her head. “Suddenly I’m screaming, running in an open field, and press nine-one-one but keep getting a wrong number. Then, Gabi is crying and I’m a little girl with a baby in my arms and evil getting closer and closer. When his hand clamps on my shoulder, I feel cold steel on my neck and…”
She stops and blinks, back in the present. “The whole damn house wakes. CJ, Gabi, my nanny…”
This is the first time I’ve ever seen Melanie anything but composed and it breaks my heart that she has to go through this. I take her drink, place it on the shiny black coffee table, and squeeze her cold hands.
Then, I begin my dream interpretation with the phrase taken from a book we all read. “So, if this were my dream, it would mean…”
I got nothing but this is for Mel so I give it a shot. “… that I was afraid of confronting something. What about you? Are you confronting anything new?”
“Nooo…” The look on her face betrays her lies. I know she’s been trying social media to contact a cousin she was close to as a kid and it didn’t go well.
“I call bullshit.” That comes from Sam, a millennial whose arms are brightly tattooed with art from the Museum of Natural History.
With a grimace and a shrug Mel ’fesses up. “Okay. I was in contact with my cousin for a while, but for no reason, she unfriended me.”
Tears form in her eyes and she swipes them away with the back of her hand. “It totally sucks, you know? My father abused me and yet I’m the one who has to deal with the fallout.”
“Your father abused you?” When Lila speaks all eyes dart to her.
Note to self, never play poker with the new girl.
“I’m so sorry… I shouldn’t have asked.” Face completely blank, she sits with her hands in her lap and stares into space.
“Mel? You okay to share?” Frankie’s husky voice comes from where she’s sitting at the bar with long legs crossed. She says she’s seventy, looks more like forty, and dresses like twenty.
“Sure. Why not.” Mel laughs bitterly, stands, and walks to the bar where Emily pours her more seltzer.
“My father sexually abused me my whole childhood.” Absent-mindedly, she plays with the knob on the antique short-wave radio that sits on a shelf to the right of the bar.
“I wish I could say it was awful, I was beaten, and I cried. I think my guilt would be less. Instead… Even now, it is so hard to admit…”
I jump in to protect her. “You don’t have to explain. Maybe that’s enough for now.”
“Stop, Iz. I need to do this. If I have bad dreams, it means my subconscious is pissed off at me for burying things again.”
“I am so sorry,” Lila whispers.
“I know, hun, but don’t be. This is the kind of work we do here. It’s the only safe place we got.”
Everyone now, except Lila weeps and Emily pulls a box of tissues from under the bar. We pass them around, blow, and say small encouragements so Mel can move forward.
“I was young when it started, maybe nine or ten. My Mom wasn’t home the first time he slipped his hand up my nightgown. After that, it happened so often, it’s too numerous to count. It’s like asking someone how many times they ate ice cream before they hit adulthood. The sad fact is, it was years before I knew it was wrong. Damn, I was so little and it felt good. My father said I was his special little girl. He said it was just a way to show me how much he loved me.”
“It was like that for me, too.” Lila whispers so softly I almost didn’t catch it and Star moves her chair so she can put her arm around her.
I wouldn’t be surprised if Lila had never before shared this out loud. Our group is like that.
As Mel paces in the small space between the couch and the bar, shadows spike on the brick walls. “A couple of times my mother walked in on him and his hand quickly jumped away. I think, from that, I knew it was supposed to be secret. She never said a word. Maybe if she had things would’ve been different. It was only when I hit puberty I understood what was really going on and I tried to get him to stop. He would promise, it would be good for a while but then he’d be back in my bedroom when I was half-asleep.”
I’ve heard Mel tell her story before but never more vividly. What the hell was wrong with her father? What kind of man messes with his own kid?
Her story is so hard to hear. “Throughout my teenage years, I had to push his groping hands away. When I was about thirteen, I tried to tell my mother. We were close until that day. Shocked, she told me I must be mistaken, confused. Then, came the worst. Little by little she started to treat me differently. She tried to make me quit my job at the local library, made me drop some of my advanced courses, and ruined my chances for a good scholarship. The lessons learned were clear. Say anything and suffer the consequences. So, I shut up.”
As I listen, I start to freak because this is exactly what it feels like Grayson is doing to me. He wants to make me think I’m crazy and punishes me when I tell the truth. I can only imagine going through that as a youngster.
Star, a victim of date rape asks, “Why do you think he didn’t, you know, penetrate you?”
“Maybe he did and I can’t remember but I don’t think so. I do recall when I was about eleven we rented a cabin in the woods and I befriended a nearby camper, a couple years older than me. The girl’s father was in jail for rape and she’d had an abortion. I didn’t even know what those things meant but my father didn’t want me to play with her again. He said she wasn’t a very nice little girl. Much later, I figured he was worried.”
“Makes sense.” Star nods while Mel sips on her drink.
All is silent except for the raucous laughter from the bar upstairs.
Then, Mel sighs and sits back down. “This is what’s really messed up. Soon after I met CJ, I confronted my father and told my family. He claimed I made up lies, that I was sick in the head. Since then, no one in my family will talk to me, not even my own mother. It’s so unfair. I didn’t do anything wrong.”
She sobs and my problems seem small in comparison.
In order to get the attention off from her, I clear my throat. “I would like to share next.”
At her grateful look, I know I did good. “I was abused by my cousin. When I confronted him last year, he swore he was only thirteen when it happened. I was ten. He said he thought I was his girlfriend and apologized. He even agreed to visit our group next time he was in New York but I just found out he was here and didn’t call. Also, I’ve been asking around and everything he told me was a lie. He wasn’t thirteen, he was seventeen. I feel so stupid. I actually believed him.”
Mel’s mouth drops open. “You didn’t tell me that.”
“Yeah. Don’t tell anyone, okay? I don’t want Grayson to go back to Minnesota and castrate my cousin. I was wondering, does anyone know if it’s too late to press charges?”
We talk about the law, statute of limitations, and what can and can’t be done after years go by. Too soon, it’s time to go. My eyes get teary as me and Mel wait outside for our limos.
Even though it’s close to midnight, the street is full of cars and plenty of people walk around, no doubt because it’s so warm. For the hundredth time tonight, I wish like before I was married, I could just walk home to my old apartment.
Mel reads my mind. “Just tell Grayson you want to move back.”
“It’s not that easy. Even though he says he’s not worried about Xavier, it’s safer in the burbs.”
She hugs me. “What are you not telling me, hun?”
“Am I an awful mother to say I wish it was like it was before? I don’t regret having Skye, not ever. I just wish me and Grayson could go back to what we were like when we first met.”
“Ah honey. All new moms feel that way. Believe me, soon Skye will sleep through the night, and you’ll forget you ever felt this way. Tell me, when was the last time you and Gray had a date?”
I laugh but it’s not funny. “Uh, never? We skipped that phase and went right to the bedroom.”
Another of the girls, Kelli, exits the bar, a drink in a plastic cup. “Why don’t you two go on vacation?”
Mel claps her hands. “That’s an awesome idea. When Chance and I had our first big fight, Kit lent me his cottage. Did you know he has his own private island in the Bahamas?”
“Seriously?” I smile and picture idyllic scenes of sandy beaches, palm trees, and a naked husband.
“Why don’t I call him and ask if it’s available. You and Grayson could take Skye and get away for a few days.”
“His job—”
“Is not as important as your relationship. You need to insist.”
“They should be here by now.” The words are barely out of my mouth when the limo pulls up.
Slate jumps out, opens the back door, and Grayson gives me a harried smile. “This kid does not sleep.”
“Not so easy, is it?” With a snicker, I jump into the limo next to his warm body and his arm comes up and over my shoulder.
“The funny thing is, she didn’t cry. She just wanted to be in the middle of everything. I’m exhausted.”
“You’re telling me?” I reach into my purse for a new toy, a plastic baby puzzle.
Skye’s delighted which gives her daddy and me time to share a few kisses.
“How did it go, tonight?” My husband’s steel eyes reflect the bright lights of the bridge that brings us out of Queens and back to the burbs.
“Good, good. Listen, I’m really sorry about earlier. It’s just, you know, hearing you say I’m crazy is hard. I swear I didn’t make any shit up. The last nanny really did accuse you of rape.”
He tucks a finger under my chin, eyes searching mine. “I never said you were crazy.”
“You implied it.” I need to be strong because he never said he was sorry.
He sighs and looks away. “There’s absolutely no evidence Xavier is back and the nannies all swear they didn’t quit, rather you fired them because you were jealous.”
“That’s just bull—”
“Don’t get mad. I hired a private investigator to check into the girls’ finances. I swear I’ll get to the bottom of this.”
“Really?” The fact he might believe me, even a little, gives me hope.
He pulls me across the seat and kisses me firmly on the lips. “Know this. Since the moment you walked into my office and threatened to take me to court, there’s been no one but you. Never will be. No matter what, I love you Isabella. Okay?”
I smile and remember the first day we met. I’d just had my performance review where I was told I was too assertive. Royally pissed off, I went to bitch to Jeannette in human resources. However, she’d quit and there was this hot new guy sitting at her desk. Later, when I brushed across his chest blocking the doorway, we both knew we’d never be the same.
“Hey, where’re we going?” We’ve veered off the highway and into Manhattan.
“To a hotel that rents rooms by the hour.” Grayson’s eyebrows lift and I have to snicker.
“You’re not serious.”
“Serious as a heart attack.”
I wonder about all the germs and bedbugs in a place like he’s suggesting but he just laughs at the face I must be making.
“CJ said he and Mel are staying in Brooklyn.” He dangles a key in front of my face. “We’re spending the night at their place.”
“What about Skye?”
“Simple. You nurse her and give her to Slate.”
I don’t believe that the former marine has agreed to be our babysitter so I call out to the front seat. “You’re really okay to watch her?”
“Your husband is funding my new retirement account. No worries.” Merry eyes dance in the rearview mirror.
My kid is like that. Her unconditional love and happy nature makes people want to be with her. I just wish she needed the same amount of sleep I do.
It only takes about a half hour to feed her, change her, and hand her off to the waiting bodyguard. Then, for the first time I can remember since BC, before child, I’m alone with my husband.
“Are we really alone?” Despite the hour, I’m wide awake and surprised at the heat brewing in my husband’s eyes.
He pulls me into his chest, his hands lower to my butt, and he presses me tight to his hard want. “I fucking want you every minute of every fucking day, Izzy.”
All the hurt from earlier drops away as I taste brandy, the cigar he promised not to smoke, and a musk uniquely him. Turning his head for a better angle, our noses just miss. My arms wrap around him, my nails dig into his back, and I open my mouth wide.
His tongue mimics what he wants to do with his cock while my hands slip up to the pressure point behind his ears, knowing it drives him crazy. With a moan, he untangles my fingers, captures my wrists in one hand, and lifts my dress. It flies over my head, landing on the floor.
I struggle to break free of his grip so I can unbutton his shirt. Sleeves rolled to his elbows, there’s no expensive cuff links so I’m free to tug the white fabric off his shoulders. My reward is a warm chest and rapidly beating heart.
What more do I need to know? This man loves me.
Desire spikes and I grope for his belt buckle, his zipper, his cock. While I do that, he slips his hands to my back and unclasps my bra.
Like two teens in the backseat of a Chevy, we tear off each other’s clothes. Then, once naked, stop and stare. About to hide under the sheets, he pulls me to a full-length mirror, his erection pressing between my butt cheeks.
“Baby, when I look at you, I see pure fucking sexy. A few pounds can’t change how I feel. You are so damn fine, woman. Every time I see you, I want to fuck.”
My face heats to the tips of my ear but he’s not finished. “Touch yourself.”
Dark eyes find mine in the mirror, his hands cover my breasts and he squeezes. Oh my God. This is so hot that my clit throbs and liquid drips down my legs. With large hands over mine, breath heavy in my ear, he directs my index finger to swirl in my own juices while his hard cock swells behind me.
When I close my eyes from the awesomeness of it all, he growls with this low, sexy voice that I hardly recognize. “Watch, dammit.”
I do and what I see is a big-breasted, blond woman spreading her legs wantonly while the most handsome man on earth sends her higher and higher.
“Ah, ah, ah…” My knees begin to shake and he squats a little to hold me up with his knees.
With a blow of warm air into my ear, he pinches a nipple and zings shoot to where I touch myself. When my whole body starts to quiver, he pulls over a chair, sits with me in his lap, and faces us toward the mirror. Then, he spreads my legs wide so I can see what’s going on down there.
Holy hell, this is way too hot for someone like me.
“Don’t stop.” At his command, my clit swells and more juices flow.
Stop? I couldn’t stop if I was on the tracks with the train in view. Hell, I can’t even breathe as I watch my wet, slick nub blossom by my own doing.
Suddenly, his hand covers mine, his finger presses in, and his other hand squeezes a breast. I scream as the biggest damn orgasm of my life erupts. Stars explode behind my eyelids, I’m higher than high, body and soul his.
“Fuck, yeah.” Hands on my waist, Grayson lifts me, turns me. and impales me to the bone.
My orgasm zooms past max. I shudder, shake, and my boobs bounce as I ride my stallion. He shouts and thrusts. My nub pulses and my heart drums out of control. My inner muscles suck at Gray’s cock, his head falls back, and his eyes roll. It’s sizzling hot to watch him lose it and I reach some plateau, one I never had before.
A shiver runs down my spine.
“Ah fuck, Isabella. Ah. Damn. Yeah.” He drives up hard, it hits my back and I push down to meet him.
With a primal yell, he cums too. Twice more, he groans, arches, and spurts into me.
Finally, I collapse onto his chest, totally spent.
Drenched in sweat, his hand slides up and down my back. “My God, Isabella, what the fuck?”
It takes me almost thirty seconds to respond. “Me? What was that mirror thing?”
He chuckles. “Playboy.”
“Seriously?”
“Guilty.”
“Keep reading. Damn. That was hot.”
His cock stirs within me and we’re at it again. When we’re finished, I check the time and moan. “Poor Slate. We need to call him to come back with the baby.”
My husband laughs. “He texted earlier. She’s asleep in Gabi’s bed. He’s in the other bedroom. Go to sleep, love. It’s all good.”