“That’s a lot of food,” I say, and I know my face shows it as I stare at the mountains of bacon.
“There’s a lot of men here we have to feed, but you’re first so it will be just us for a while,” he informs and that has me untangling my fingers and relaxing. “Sit. I’ll make you a plate. How do you take your coffee?”
“Do you have creamer?” I ask, hoping I’m not being a bother.
“Yes, we do. Princess likes his coffee with sweat cream. I’ll bring it to you, Cupcake.”
“I can do it. You don’t have to go out of your way.” I see the fridge to the left of him and reach for the handle, but he steps in front of me, his hand hovering over the middle of my chest.
“Charlie, don’t you think you’ve done enough and deserve for someone to bring you a plate of food and a simple cup of coffee?”
I stare down at the black and white tile floor, counting the squares. “I don’t want to cause you any trouble.”
“Taking care of you is far from being trouble, Charlie. Go sit. I’ll be in there in a minute.” He kisses the middle of my forehead and a blanket of safety wraps around me. “Go on.” He juts his chin to the corner where three booths are.
I nod and tuck a piece of hair behind my ear, peeking at him over my shoulder as I head to the booth. Sitting down, I tuck my hands under my thighs as I wait.
To the right are condiments like ketchup, mustard, steak sauce, salt and pepper, and a small tin stuffed with napkins.
“Here you go, Cupcake.” Whistler sets down a cup of coffee along with a plate full of food.
Too much food.
“Uh.” I stare at the hills of eggs and bacon, then to the side at the six pieces of toast. “I can’t eat all this.”
“I know,” he chuckles. “We’re going to share.” He takes a seat in front of me, and One hands him some coffee next.
Mercy drags a seat to the side of the booth and gives me a tight grin, thumping his elbows against the table.
After One gets settled next to Whistler, a tense silence falls between us as I poke at my food. The bacon is crispy, and the eggs are fluffy. I eat a few of the eggs and three pieces of bacon, then nibble on a piece of toast.
Mercy’s eyes peer over his mug to Whistler and One gives a quick glance to Mercy.
I wash the toast down with warm coffee and wipe my mouth with a napkin, leaning back against the booth. “Why do I get the feeling you guys know something I don’t? You aren’t too subtle.”
Whistler sighs and stretches his arms across the table, his palms up as if he wants me to take them.
I give him one, not both, but I do want to meet him halfway.
“I don’t really know how to say it, so I’m just going to say it. I did some digging on Kenneth and you. I didn’t want to invade your privacy but I needed to.”
“You could have asked. I would have told you whatever you needed to know.”
“Ah, come on, Charlie. You and I both know you would have been pissed if I asked.”
I tug my hand away from his and cross my arms. “Okay, what did you find out? Kenneth is a lawyer. We got married on—”
“—You aren’t married. That’s what I found. You aren’t married. You’ve never been married to him. He’s been using you because of some grudge his father has with yours.”
I flinch as if he has hit me and stare at the table, my eyes watering as I think back over the years. “That’s impossible. We got married. He filed the license.” And for some reason, I hoped. It’s ridiculous though. I’m married. I’ve been married since I was nineteen.
Haven’t I?
I circle the band on my finger.
“He has friends at the courthouse. There’s a fake wedding license on file, but your name is spelled wrong and it isn’t your social security number.” He slides over a manilla envelope with a few papers on top, then spreads them out. Mercy takes the plate full of food away and stretches to place it on the counter, so it is out of the way. “See. Here. And here,” he points. “He has always had his freedom while draining yours.”
“I’m not married?” the question is a rasp, and a tear hangs on my lower lash line. “You’re sure?”
“Positive, Cupcake.”
I sag against the booth and pick up the papers, the proof, and stare at them. How could he have convinced me all these years? How did I not know? Am I not intelligent?
As if Whistler can read my mind, he tells me, “This isn’t your fault. No matter what you think, he is a master manipulator. You aren’t dumb. You believed and trusted someone who should have protected you and loved you.”
“I’m…free?” I whisper, dragging my eyes from the papers to meet his.
“I understand if you might be upset at the news,” he starts to say but I stop him.
“I’m free?” I ask louder. “That’s what you’re saying. I’m a free woman. I’m not stuck with him?”
He doesn’t know what to say to my reaction. He scratches the side of his head before he nods. “Yeah, Cupcake. You’re free. You aren’t stuck with him. You never were, he only made you think so.”
A laugh bubbles in the back of my throat and One shares a worried glance with Mercy. I laugh harder to the point it’s hysterical. “It’s funny.” I stab the paperwork with my fingers. I’m gasping for breath. “I…have nearly died because of him. I believed his lies…I believed him. I’ve been so scared to leave…” the words come out high-pitched and uneven. “When I could have just…left!” I screech the last word and wipe under my eye from laughing so hard. “I’m so fucking stupid.” I catch Whistler staring at me and the concern he has written on his face causes the laughter to break.
I’m so stupid.
I tried to prepare myself for a few reactions. A slap across the face or coffee spilled in my lap. I expected yelling. Definitely yelling and denial.
What I did not expect was laughter, but I knew it was a front because now she’s starting to cry.
“I’m so stupid,” she repeats.
I snatch her hands in mine, touching that damn ring on her finger that doesn’t mean a damn thing. It’s a lie. Kenneth has degraded something that was meant to show honor and love. She’ll probably never wear a ring again. Love doesn’t need a symbolization. Symbols, like her ring, mean nothing if the vow is broken.
“Don’t. Don’t ever call yourself stupid again. You hear me?” I tighten my hands around hers and her crystal blue eyes are so bright from her tears, I feel like I’m being transported to a sunny lagoon. “You are far from stupid. You have been used by someone who you thought you could trust. Sometimes people are good at hiding their true colors. That isn’t on you. He took advantage of you.” I hang my head when I realize there is one other thing I need to tell her. “There’s something else.”
“Oh my god, if you tell me I’m related to him—” she holds a hand over her mouth “—I’m going to be sick.”
“No! No,” not that what I have to say is any better. “When you were in the hospital…”