Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 92873 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 464(@200wpm)___ 371(@250wpm)___ 310(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92873 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 464(@200wpm)___ 371(@250wpm)___ 310(@300wpm)
The bathroom is still humid from his shower, the mirror fogged up with vapor. I lock the door and lean on the wood, acutely aware of his cum dripping down my thighs.
Hurrying to the cupboard, I yank open the drawer and feel underneath. Relief rushes through me when I find the packet of birth control pills where I left it. I pop today’s pill from its casing and cup my hand under the tap to swallow it with a sip of water.
Once it’s in my stomach, I feel calmer. More rational. I can examine the strange mixture of disappointment and hurt that squeezes my chest. I shouldn’t see more into the sex. My husband is a man. He’s only sating a physical need. I shouldn’t let that affect me. It will be irresponsible to need more from him when he’s not capable of giving it. Yet I can’t help the hollow feeling that settles in the pit of my stomach.
In a way, my banishment is a blessing in disguise. At least I have my own space, a space where his presence is temporary. I can sneak to the village and earn a little money. There may come a day that I’ll need that money, a day when I open the drawer and find my birth control pills gone. That’s the true reason I rejected his offer to employ a cook and a housekeeper. If permanent staff live in the house, I’ll have to give up my secret excursions. Then, I’ll be completely cut off from the outside world. I’ll have no options of saving myself.
No, it’s best I stay here alone. I may not have a real marriage or a partner who loves me, but I don’t need someone else to make me happy. I can do that all on my own. I have a duty to myself to try. When I look at it like that, being stowed away in an abandoned house in the middle of nowhere counts in my favor. The freedom that gives me makes the feat considerably easier.
The new resolve lifts my spirits somewhat. I’m not naïve enough to think my husband’s actions will never touch or hurt me. I simply accept that there will be times I’ll have to internalize the pain. That’s why it’s vital that I build a new life for myself here. I can’t be strong if I’m permanently unhappy. I can only survive if I’m in a healthy mental state of mind.
When I step out of the bedroom, showered and dressed, smells of coffee and toast greet me. I’m surprised to find Angelo in the kitchen in front of the stove, scrambling eggs. He’s dressed in a fitted button-down shirt and formal slacks. The table is set for two with a rack of toast and a carafe of coffee in the center.
“Hungry?” he asks, measuring me from over his shoulder.
“Starving,” I say honestly.
“Good.” His lips tilt in one corner. “Sit down.”
Obeying, I take a seat. Our roles from last night are reversed as he serves a large helping of eggs on my plate.
“Eat before it gets cold,” he says, leaving the pan on a cork plate before taking the seat opposite me.
He prepares my coffee the way I like it while I butter a slice of toast. We eat in silence until he takes his phone from his pocket and connects a call that he puts on speaker.
At my questioning look, he says, “Your brother would like to speak to you.”
The piece of bread I just swallowed gets stuck in my throat. “He called?”
“The day before yesterday.”
“Two days ago?” I exclaim.
“During my business trip.”
I’m about to point out that he had plenty of time last night to return the call when Ryan answers.
“Angelo?” my brother says in a strained voice. “It’s about fucking time.”
My husband slides the phone across the table with a warning in his eyes.
Swallowing, I pick up the phone. “Ryan, it’s me.”
“Sabella,” Ryan says with a sigh of relief. “Thank fuck. How are you? I was afraid Angelo wouldn’t let us speak to you.”
“I’m fine.” I add quickly, “I’m with him.”
A moment of silence passes as my brother no doubt understands that the phone is on speaker.
“How are Celeste and Brad?” I ask, trying hard to keep the emotions assaulting me from my voice.
“They’re doing great. Celeste is working full time as a volunteer again. Brad is going to a fancy new-age kindergarten. You know Celeste.” He chuckles. “However, I have to admit, he loves it there. More importantly, tell me your news.”
“There’s nothing much to tell,” I say, forcing a smile into my tone.
“Where are you?”
“In Corsica.”
“How are things going there?” he asks carefully. “Are you adapting?”
“Yes.” I glance at my husband. “The house is very nice.”
Angelo’s expression remains blank.
“Are you…?” Ryan hesitates. “Healthy?”
We all know it’s code for asking if my husband is treating me well.