Contractual marriage to a mischievous woman 3

After I dropped off Layla at her house that day, I didn’t hear much from her for the rest of the week.

She took herself off somewhere and just called into the TV interview after telling the station that she had some family emergency to attend to.

Layla had a big, ugly mark on her face. She couldn’t show up without having to explain a lot of things, and despite of the resolve she’d shown that day, she was probably not ready to confess to the world that she’d married a brute.

While in hiding though, she emailed in a lot of instructions for the Championettes so we could all stay on track with the fundraiser preparations.

The fact that none of the other members seemed fazed about it bothered me.

I had a feeling this wasn’t the first time that Layla literally didn’t show her face for a while because they seemed used to it.

The realization only angered me more.

I was very angry at Don, and I was a little angry at Layla because I thought after the conversation we had in the car, she would start doing something.

Because I didn’t think she’d just lie there and let herself bleed to death. I thought she’d be pissed off enough to get herself back up on her feet and start fighting back.

I’d talked to Brandon about temporarily offering my house to a family friend and his teenage charge. I didn’t get to discuss details with Layla that day so I didn’t know exactly what to tell Brandon except for a vague explanation that someone I knew was in need of a place to stay.

All he’d asked me was if there was anything he could do, and all I’d told him was that this was more than enough for now. It had to be because it was more than a week later and Layla was still MIA.

I didn’t want to think about the possibility that something horrible had happened to her and Riley. I’d sent her an short email asking if she and the boy were alright and she’d replied with a very succinct ‘Yes’.

I had a few choice words to respond with but I backed off. I might have already pushed her too far that day we talked in the car. If I pushed her any farther, she might completely shut out anyone who can help her get away from Don.

When the people you trusted let you down so many times, what’s to make you think the next person to come along wasn’t just getting in line to do the same ?

Preferring anything else to my grim contemplations, I kept myself busy with the Championettes’ upcoming Art Appreciation dinner this weekend.

I’d become good at distraction.

I didn’t want to think about Layla’s predicament or my own guilt which continued to keep me away from the people whose trust I’d violated.

When you’ve let down the people who trusted you, what’s to make you think they’re going to give you a second chance ?

I kept myself so preoccupied that it didn’t occur to me that it was, out of the blue, my twentieth birthday.

Brandon had surprised me in the morning with a thorough lovemaking followed by an elaborate breakfast in bed.

He promised me a romantic evening before promptly leaving for the office.

I was a little bit disappointed that he wasn’t spending the entire day with me but then I quickly reminded myself that the man had big responsibilities.

In his absence, I got a delivery of a few dozen flowers of an assorted variety, a few boxes of the fanciest chocolates in the world money could buy, and a jaw-dropping set of sparkling diamond jewelry.

Compared to the last few birthdays I could remember in recent years, when I’d spent the special occasion either bussing tables or dining on a stale granola bar in an all-too-quiet kitchen, today was kicking ass so far.

I’d spent the early afternoon reading and responding to several happy birthday emails from old friends, prepping up for my evening with Brandon, showering, doing my hair, my nails, and gobbling up some chocolate here and there as I tried on several dresses for tonight’s fancy dinner.

“Look at you,” I told myself as I stood in front of the mirror in a bright aquamarine jersey dress that looked elegantly sexy but offered warmth and pop of cheerful color in the dull gray and slight chill of the fall season. Paired up with black ankle booties, it looked sophisticated but edgy. “Who would ever thought you’d be twenty and standing on top of the world ?”

While I certainly never imagined anything like this, I assumed that being up here would feel… a little less lonely.

My smile faded as I turned away from the mirror and walked to a chaise lounge by the huge glass window.

I had a fortune, the best and most expensive dresses and trinkets money could buy, a fortress in the sky and a prince of a husband.

I wonder if I’ll ever stop feeling like an impostor. The lie that put the pauper in the princess’s tower is the same lie that locked her away from everyone else.

I missed my family and friends.

As cheesy as it sounded, I would trade the material riches of my kingdom for a chance at reclaiming the trust of those who knew I came from the scullery yet treated me like I deserved a place under the sun.

Just like in any fairy tale, what good was a palace with no family and friends to fill the halls with conversation and laughter ? The echo of my own voice was no company. It only served to remind me of the price I paid for one lie that gave me everything yet cost me everyone I cared about.

Yes, I had Brandon, but the evidence of his love was also evidence of what he’d given up for me. He’d reassured me that he could come to terms with the wedge I’d driven between him and his family, but could I ?

I hated the guilt but worse, I hated sharing it with someone who didn’t deserve it.

How can someone be so happy yet be so sad at the same time ? And how long will it be before one outweighed the other ?

It was an ironic day to feel maudlin but that was precisely how I was feeling the moment my cellphone blared with a rudely cheerful ringtone.

I stared at the screen with a frown.

It was Jake.