I call her to find out what’s going on.
19
Violet
When I get to the guest room, I’m breathless, a little drunk, and more than anything, I’m mortified.
The mortification set in as words spewed out of my mouth out there when I heard myself, like I was outside my body and couldn’t make myself stop the spewing.
I don’t know what to think about everything. On one hand I feel stupid for projectile word-vomiting with Killian about my thing with Ray, how I let him turn me into someone I wasn’t. Someone I would feel sorry for.
On the other hand, I guess I just wanted to try to explain how it happened. I’m going to stop explaining it, though. With Susanna, too.
I can see them trying to understand but not getting it. Because they haven’t lived it. And maybe because I was just weak. With stars in my eyes at the notion of true and unconditional love. And then so, so fucking crushed when I found out it was all lies.
It hits me that I forgot to text Susanna, so I flop onto the bed, luxuriating for a moment in the feel of the soft and colorful quilt and all the pillows. At the happy bouquet on the nightstand. At the view out the wall of windows. I tip my head back and look up at the wish art on the wall over the bed. I can’t help but smile, despite everything.
I can’t afford décor like this, but I love this room, love the feel of this being my safe haven, and I now want to redecorate my room at home, when I can afford it, to look as much like this room as I possibly can.
Maybe I should move in with Susanna when her roommate vacates. Get a fresh start in a place Ray’s never been. Cut my bills and save a nest egg to buy a house of my own. Or a condo in the sky like this. I mean, like this but a tenth of the price, probably, so a tenth of the awesomeness.
The feeling of safety here, up high in this secure building with someone watching over me who won’t let Ray in my space? It’s a feeling that I could get used to.
But I won’t let myself get too used to it. After all, not this Thursday, the one after: it’s Ray’s deadline. Killian promised I’ll be fine, so I’ve got to try to believe that.
When I do get my room done, it won’t be anything close to this, not without this wall of windows, the amazing penthouse view of Portland, and the sumptuous furnishings, but maybe I can get a pretty new quilt and a painting for the wall that inspires me and reminds me that it’s good to wish, good to hope.
I felt pretty hopeless just days ago and now look at me.
Yeah. Look at me.
My heart lurches.
Me… running away from that handsome man in the middle of dinner because I drank too much wine and got too steeped in my emotions over how I let Ray ruin my life.
I’m going to claw my way back out, though.
I’m not going to keep acting like a victim.
I’m not going to keep letting my life be ruined because of things within my control, like who my partner in life is. I’d rather be alone than let myself get lost again like that.
Yes, I’ll have Killian’s help scraping Ray off because, for whatever reason, he wants to help me get Ray out of my life, and I suppose that’s not so different from me making the choice to go to the cops and file a restraining order.
In a round-about way, it’ll be the same result. Only I’m pretty certain Ray is way more afraid of Killian than he is of the police.
Killian Coulter has a commanding presence. But he’s not an asshole, not from what I’ve seen.
His employees didn’t cower when they saw him, like “Uh oh, here’s the asshole prick boss – better behave.”
He was greeted with respect and smiles that appeared genuine.
To me, that says a lot about him. Even if Ray is terrified of him.
Though, I have no idea what went down with that employee he had the theft problem with that caused us to go there tonight. How did he deal with that? Was she going to be taken to task the way Ray is being handled? Though, Killian said he doesn’t ever let things go. I have no idea what that’ll mean for Ray.
I shiver and decide to put it out of my mind for now. The last thing I need are more thoughts torturing my brain tonight.
I don’t want to continue to feel sick to my stomach worrying. I can only handle so much at one time.
I tap into my phone to call Susanna.
She answers on the first ring.
“Damn. You’re not getting laid. Or did you already get laid? Please tell me he dicked you unconscious ages ago and you’re only now just revived enough to call me.”
I laugh a little. “No dicking. It’s not gonna be like that. I think he sees me like a little sister he’s gotta protect from the stupid bully.”
She grunts.
“So, why did you call him today? That’s not cool, Susanna.”
“Have you met me?” she demands to know.
I roll my eyes. “I’m embarrassed.”
“Don’t be. I want it known that you’re not only a great person but a great catch and that no matter how much time you spent with that son of a bitch, his stench did not stick to you. It didn’t, Violet.”
I wish that were true. It probably has.
But that doesn’t mean I can’t get rid of it – I’ll bathe in tomato juice if necessary.
“What’s on tap for tomorrow? Wanna do something?” she asks.
“Tomorrow I’m going dress shopping in the morning because I’m going to a club opening with Killian tomorrow night. As a favor to him.”
“Mm hm.” The noise she makes isn’t just full of “I told you so” it’s also filled with delight.
“Just a favor. He’s opening a new club. Sounds like a fun place, actually.”
“Oh, I know all about Numbers. There’s a lot of buzz about it. It takes connections to get invited to that opening.”
“Yeah, so I’m going there just as a favor because he was too busy to find a date.”
“Too busy rescuing you and lusting after you?”
I ignore her, though I get louder, so she’ll know to stop it. “So tomorrow is definitely out, but, what about Sunday?”
“Sunday, mani pedis - my treat, at Coraline’s. Then brunch. Then facials at Mumsie’s.”
“Is Coraline’s open Sundays?” I ask. It never was before. It’s been ages since someone else did my nails. I bite my lip. I’m going to have to do something with them myself for tomorrow night.
“It is these days. She’s saving up for her wedding. She got engaged.”
“Oh, that’s awesome. And the whole day sounds amazing.”
And it does. Susanna and her mom make the best homemade facials. I used to love going over once a week and getting those fresh kitchen-made facials. As great as they were, for me it was mostly about catching up, hanging out, and being with them.
“I can’t wait,” she says. “Have a great weekend. Text me a selfie tomorrow night. If you can, get your date in the picture too so I can ogle Mr. Hottie.”
“It’s not a date, Suse.”
“Yeah, yeah. Goodnight, Violet. Love you.”
“Love you more.” I hang up before she can argue with that.
I deflate and stare at the ceiling for a while, playing the events of the day over in my mind before I get ready for bed.