“It’s pictures of you,” he says, swallowing so hard I hear it over the phone. I hear the anguish in his voice before he says the words. “Beaten, Iris. He beat you?”
He beat me? No, I beat him at his own game. I escaped. I got away.
I survived!
But all anyone will see is a victim. Not Iris, but the black-eyed Susan in those pictures with her lips split open and her jaw swollen twice its normal size. All they’ll say is he beat you? You let him beat you? You stayed?
Weak.
Fool.
And they’ll have no idea who I am.
“August, I wanted to tell you.” I say, pressing down my shame. “I signed an NDA.”
“You could have told me, though. Iris, you should have—”
“Excuse me, but I don’t need a lecture from anyone on what I should have done.” I fight back tears of hurt and anger. Not at him. At Caleb, and whomever leaked this, and at the whole world. “My situation was complicated beyond what you can imagine. If I had just left Caleb, he would have gotten joint custody of Sarai, and that was never going to happen. I would die to prevent that from happening.”
I almost did.
“We’ll talk about that later,” he says. “I’m not mad at you. God, do you think I’m mad at you? For not telling me? No, baby. I’m mad at myself for not seeing it. For not . . . I’m furious at him for . . .” He pulls in a fortifying breath and goes on more calmly. “Right now, we need to get you out of there. Avery isn’t the only one who got this file. Every major news station has it.”
My knees buckle as the scope of my humiliation comes into full view. I grip the counter and raise a shaking hand to my mouth. “What? Oh, God.”
“A car’s on the way to my place,” August says, and I hear the deliberate calm of his voice trying to soothe me. “Grab a few things for you and Sarai, and the car will take you to the airport. Wherever you want to go.”
Spanish moss. The Mississippi River flowing through my veins.
MiMi left Lo and me her tiny house on the bayou. We haven’t sorted through what we want to do, so it’s just sitting there empty, waiting.
“I want to go to Louisiana,” I say. “Not many know about MiMi’s place, that I’m connected to it.”
“Okay. The Waves have a plane that’ll take you there.”
“And you?” I don’t want to sound pitiful, but I need him so badly. I never wanted to be dependent on a man again, but it’s too late. Our hearts are interdependent, and when mine is aching, it needs him. Wants him. I want him.
“I’m coming to you, of course.” He growls over the phone. “God, I’d be there by now if it weren’t for this damn snow in Denver. As soon as I can get a flight out of here, I’ll come. Just text me the address.”
“Okay.” My heartbeat slows just a little.
“A driver will take you to the airport, and a guy from the security team will go with you to the house.”
My blood congeals. “No,” I croak. “No. I don’t want that. I don’t want a bodyguard or security or . . . no. Just you, August.”
“Iris, there’s no way in hell I’m letting you and Sarai go to the middle of nowhere by yourselves during this shit storm,” he snaps.
“That’s right. You’re not letting me do anything,” I snap right back. “I’m telling you that I’m not having some strange man staying with me and my daughter. End of story.”
“But Iris—”
“Did you read the file?” I ask abruptly.
We’re separated by miles and an ocean’s worth of silence floating between us.
“No,” he finally replies. “You wanted to tell me yourself, and I know you hate your story, your life being out of your control. That everyone else gets to judge and interpret you. At least with me, I want you to be able to tell your story yourself. That’s how I want to hear it.”
My prince.
He sees me. He knows me. He loves me, and I thank God for a second chance.
“Thank you for that, August,” I say, gulping back tears. “Caleb’s bodyguard kept me in that house. Made sure I could never leave. He stood by while Caleb beat and raped me.”
The word rises from hell and climbs up my throat, burning and sulfurous in my lungs.
“I was . . . I was raped by Caleb on a . . . on a regular basis at gunpoint.” I pause for the softly uttered expletive from the other end. It all rushes back so vividly that my scalp stings when I think of Caleb jerking me by the hair.
“Iris, God.” I managed to hold back my tears, but I hear them in his voice—the agony for me. “Baby, I want to be with you right now.”
“I know. I want that, too. Tonight?” I ask hopefully. “You think you’ll make it there tonight?”
“If I have to drive a bus to the nearest city that can get me a flight out, I will. I promise.”
“Just no bodyguard. Please,” I whisper. “I know it’s silly to you, but—”
“No bodyguard,” he agrees, still reluctantly. “The driver will drop you guys off at the house. You’ll only be there a few hours without me, and I’ll see you tonight.”
I turn off all the food and abandon everything. I know this feeling. I remember my family running, chased by a pending storm. The panic, the hysteria. The terror. I feel it all riding to the airport and flying to Louisiana. Thank God for Sarai. Occupying her, soothing her on the plane, feeding her when she’s hungry—the business of motherhood helps take my mind off the storm whirring around me, picking up strength with every person who sees that file. I’m not googling or surfing the web. I don’t want to know what’s going on. When the time comes, I’ll speak.
It’s only when we are inside and the driver is on his way back to the main road that I really stop to think. To take myself off autopilot and process the implications of the file coming out. Was someone out to get Caleb? It wouldn’t surprise me, of course. Surely, I’m not the only one he’s been cruel to. August knew he was a jackass. Andrew knew. Andrew helped me with the medical reports.
Andrew?
Caleb had something on Andrew to keep him under his thumb. Was this Andrew’s revenge?
If so, thanks a lot, buddy.
Sarai is bathed and in her nightgown of choice, a San Diego Waves T-shirt, and I’m wearing one of August’s button-ups I grabbed from his place when my phone rings.
“Story, Mommy,” Sarai says plaintively, holding up her copy of Goodnight Moon.
“Mommy will read. Just hold on.” I run into the kitchen where I left my phone, making sure to check the caller ID before I answer.
“Lo, hey. Thanks for calling back so quickly.”
“Of course, girl.” Sympathy and anger mix in her voice. “I wish I could be there. I’m stuck here in New York ’til the weekend. How did this happen?”
“I have no idea. A copy of the file was delivered to Avery Hughes. She’s dating Mack Decker, one of the Waves front-office execs, and she gave him a heads-up.”
“Are you okay?” Concern softens Lo’s usual brashness. “You know you have nothing to be ashamed of.”
“Yeah, I know.” My laugh sounds hollow. “But everyone’s going to judge me anyway. Make assumptions. Presume to know. I never wanted this to come out. It was purely a threat to keep Caleb out of our lives.” I flop onto MiMi’s flower-patterned couch. “Man, this is an ugly couch.”