“That’s no excuse for mistreating you. That’s no excuse for being a waste of space, leanin’ on you to take care of everything for him and then treating you like shit because he felt shitty about what a loser he was.”
“Yeah. I didn’t see it soon enough. And then, I felt stuck. And I… I dunno… was convinced it’d go really bad if I didn’t find a way out of it carefully. Just…” I swallow and shake my head.
Killian continues. “By him treating you that way, by him making you think less of yourself, he figured he got hooks into you so that you’d stay. In the beginning, you probably stayed trying to help him feel better about himself, trying to stick by your man.”
I nod slowly.
“And by the time you figure out that it’s not worth it, that he’s not worthy of all your sacrifices because he doesn’t give up anything, doesn’t even try to be better, you’re broken, beaten down by him with no self-confidence. If he put half the effort into life as he did into excuses and blaming people, he could’ve made something of himself.”
I nod some more.
Exactly.
A tear trickles down my cheek and I pull my lips tight.
“I’m sorry, Violet,” he says in a husky voice. “I gotta tell you, beautiful girl like you, I didn’t get it. But just a little time with you and I’m starting to. To get it. To understand why you stayed. He fucked you over. You were loyal and he used it against you.”
“I feel like such a loser. He’d yell and apologize and then I’d forgive him. And then he was yelling and not apologizing, and I wasn’t leaving and I was just paralyzed by fear. I let him break me. Slowly. Bit by bit. I was loyal one day and before I knew it, I was broken.”
I swallow and now my eyes are swimming with so many tears the contents of my dinner plate are blurry. I grab my napkin and dab at my eyes.
“You’re not a loser, you’re a survivor. First, you were loyal to that fuck. A man gets loyalty from a woman who sticks up for him, who sticks by his side when he’s down on his luck, she deserves to be treated like a queen. He should wanna be better and do better, not drag her into the gutter with him. I’m sorry, I really am. Sorry you believed in the wrong guy and didn’t give up on him for way longer than he deserved. And I’m just sorry.”
18
Killian
Saying I’m sorry comes from somewhere deep in my gut because not only am I sorry she went through that, I’m also deeply sorry that I lost that coin toss.
I’m very fucking sorry, because what might she be today otherwise? She lost three years of her life being dragged down by that piece of shit.
Everything in her body language makes me think of her being a naïve, pure-hearted angelic creature being cheated and fooled by a demon. Instead of turning hard and cold, she shattered under the weight of her pain.
She hasn’t even said much about the relationship she had with him and already I know I wanna go rip his fucking face off.
And I wanna strip him of everything he has including any shred of dignity.
I want him to feel like less. I want him to feel like the fucking loser he is.
The stir fry is good. But we’ve both hit some heavy topics here that are affecting the appetite.
I take another two or three bites, forcing it down and notice she’s just staring into her food, pushing it around the plate with the chopsticks.
“I’m thinking all that wine ruined my appetite,” Violet finally says. “I’ll probably be hungry at midnight when I’ve sobered up. I think I’ll put this away for later.” She gets up, lifting her plate.
“I’m feelin’ the same. I’ll tidy up and then do you wanna watch a movie?”
“I think I’m gonna hit the hay early. That pretty new bed is calling my name. I’ll just help you clean up first.”
“I’ll clean up. You go ahead.”
“Are… are you sure?”
That frown line appears over her nose and I have the strange urge to kiss it away. I refrain.
“Positive. You get hungry later, help yourself to anything you like. Make yourself at home. I mean it.”
“Okay. Thank you.”
“We’ll go dress shopping first thing.”
“Sure. Thanks. Um, ‘night.”
She awkwardly waves at me before twirling to head for her room. I head to the kitchen to put stuff away.
Dress shopping in the morning, with a girl I’m not fucking. I roll my eyes as I take out containers for the leftovers.
Yeah, there’s no way around dress-shopping if I’m taking her to the opening because neither dress will do.
One of the dresses she showed me is too damn sexy. Too much cleavage, too much leg. I didn’t like the idea of how many sets of eyes would be on that body of hers. Why I felt that way, who knows; I’m not usually that guy with women I’m dating and I’m not even dating Violet. But that red dress would not do for public. My only thought was that I’d much rather her wear it just for me.
The second dress… that one I can’t see on her. That’s the dress she wore in the club that night. Yeah, that night. The night he tossed the coin and strode up to her before lookin’ at me like he’d won and I’d lost.
I did lose.
I fuckin’ lost big.
Not as big as Violet Gates, though.
Yeah, I didn’t want her in that dress, reminding me of that night.
Maybe if I’d won or maybe if I’d refused the coin toss, I’d have had a dance or two. Maybe I’d have called her afterwards. Maybe it would’ve gone nowhere or maybe we’d be right where we are today but because we’d been together the last three years. Happy.
Who fucking knows? All I know is that I can’t stomach that she’s this broken because of that piece of shit.
Just as I’m finished with cleaning my kitchen, thinking on how great she looked in here in bare feet, smiling and drinking wine while helping me make dinner, wine-flushed in the cheeks as she giggled at me in that lilting voice, my phone makes noise. A text from Alana.
“Emailed you a report. Call me tomorrow to go over stuff. Not urgent tonight.”
I wonder if she has further information about the problems with that fuckhead who left trying to argue about his bill, the service, the food quality, even the booze tonight. I don’t know what the fuck that guy was all about, but it was more than the typical disgruntled customer. Everything about that situation told me there was more to it. I didn’t like it one bit, so I told Alana to make sure to tell Tony, my head of security, to keep all eyes open extra wide tonight.
The little fuck harassed the server, harassed his wagering concierge, accusing us of watering down the top shelf liquor, and then he was a dick to not only the manager trying to make things right, but also me, doin’ what he could to draw attention to his complaints on a busy Friday night. She told me she checked and nothing about his orders, even though his server was Heidi were fucked up.
Too bad the shithead didn’t pay with a credit card. I’d have liked to know who he is. I decide to call Alana to see if we can get the license plate of the ride he arrived in from surveillance.
We have surveillance at all our entrances and in all corners of our parking lot at each of my locations. I do not take any fucking chances with security.