I hung up without waiting for a goodbye. Unable to swallow and incapable of breathing, I slowly reached into the already-opened envelope and pulled out the papers contained inside.
My brain short-circuited as my eyes flitted over the cover sheet. …Great happiness that we offer you a spot… our students… we look forward to hearing…
Numb with shock, the only coherent thought my brain managed was, Get lunch ready, otherwise, it’s going to get ugly.
In the kitchen, my body worked on automatic pilot. Chicken salad would not have been my choice of lunch, but Easton hated any Ghanaian food I cooked. I added the mayonnaise and the additional spices I knew Easton liked. I always saved the scallions for last because he liked them fresh but not too big and not too fine like the food processor would have done.
“God, I needed that shower. That run was brutal.” Easton’s voice was jovial.
I was too numb to answer, as rage battled for dominance with disbelief and sorrow. Instead, I just continued chopping. My mind was unable to form coherent thoughts.
He continued without waiting for a response. “I went down by the library then up Independence. It was pretty. Still spring but with a touch of summer heat in the air.”
I smoothed the scallions off the knife into the chicken salad with my finger. While I worked, the bitter scent burned my nostrils. I still didn’t speak.
“What’s with you?” His tone was cold and held little note of concern.
I knew the moment his eyes landed on the envelope from the school. The air around him shifted subtly, and I braced myself.
His voice was barely above a whisper as he spoke. “Where the hell did you get that?”
Stupid move or not, I wasn’t going to let this one go. If there was ever a time to stand up for myself, it was now. I was not the pathetic girl he thought I was. I had been strong once, and I reached deep into the depths of a long-forgotten girl to find a sliver of that strength. “Where the hell you hid it.”
I braced for shouting, but nothing happened.
Instead, when Easton spoke, his voice was pleading. “Look, I know I shouldn’t have kept it from you, but you have to realize that London isn’t going to happen. We won’t survive if we don’t go together. Law is a more stable profession than photography. I mean, what are you going to do with that anyway? I had your best interest at heart.”
My best interest? My best fucking interest?
My fingers curled around the knife handle as my anger bubbled to the surface. I forced a deep breath, then another, and peeled my fingers off the hilt. “You lied to me. Every day I asked you, and every day you hid it from me.” I searched his handsome face. How had I become this? What had become of the real me?
He waved a dismissive hand. “Look. I did it for you. You needed to make a decision. The right decision. And you wouldn’t have been able to make it if you’d seen that envelope. Besides, you and I both know that you wouldn’t be happy in London.”
“Don’t!” My body vibrated with fury. “Don’t talk to me like I’m a child. You did it for yourself because you wanted me to make the choice that you wanted. You’re dispica—”
The stinging crack across my cheek snapped my head to the side. A pinball of pain ricocheted in my skull. The burning pain spread from my face to my neck and well into my hairline. I knew from experience now would be a good time to shut the hell up.
But it was as if the stronger woman inside me finally refused to be silenced. I gingerly touched my cheek and glowered at him. “I will not shut up. You lied to me. You hid this from me. You made me feel like I wasn’t good enough to make this dream happ—”
The next crack was enough to knock me over, and I tasted blood on the tip of my tongue. Desperate to steady myself, I reached up to the counter for purchase, but only managed to bring the diced chicken, mayonnaise, and chopping board down with me.
Easton kneeled in front of me. His tight face registered a barely concealed mask of rage. This was it; I’d done it now. There would be no concealer good enough to hide the bruises he would give me.
And I didn’t give a good goddamn. I was tired of cowering.
Instead of lying there, I probed for the cutting board to use as a shield. My fingers wrapped around the knife handle instead. Shaking, I gripped it tight.
Over the years, I’d lost count of the number of times he’d hit me.
Once, I’d even tried to run home. My mother had made it clear, in no uncertain terms, that Easton was the kind of man I needed in my life. And I had better learn how to please him because I wasn’t going to do much better than a Peters.
My mother had also pointed out that Easton would be powerful someday and I would benefit from that. She’d called him to pick me up then.
I had learned that day not to go running home with my problems. Once, I considered telling my father. He might have patriarchy infused in his blood, but he would never stand for someone hitting his child.
But even I knew that scenario would end in bloodshed, either with my father dead or in jail for murder. Neither outcome was acceptable, so I kept my mouth shut.
When Easton spoke, his voiced sounded controlled, but I didn’t buy it.
“You know better than to provoke me. I don’t want to hurt you, but Abbie, you cannot speak to me like that. Are we clear?”
Decision time. I could nod my head and say yes. Or for once, I could stand up to the person who’d hurt me over and over again. The person who’d deliberately tried to keep my dream from me.
With the taste of blood in my mouth and my heart hammering in my chest, I tilted my head to meet his gaze as fury chased away the fear.
Slipping the knife between our bodies, I glared at him. “No. Not clear. You have two minutes to get the hell out of my house, or I swear before God, I will not be the only one bleeding in this kitchen today.”
Easton blinked hard, then blinked again, as if he couldn’t believe his ears. “Abbie…” His voice held a hint of warning.
My hands shook slightly as hysteria threatened to take over. “Fine, have it your way.” The tip of the knife sliced at his T-shirt as I pressed just enough to show him I meant business. The rush of euphoric triumph when the blade carved through skin was hard to ignore.
With a wince, he stumbled backward and fell on his ass. “Abbie, calm the fuck down. Look, I’m sorry. I shouldn't have lost my temper. We can talk this out.”
“We won’t be talking anything out. You now have sixty seconds to get out.” I dug into my back pocket and pulled out my phone. “Or do I have to call the police? Imagine what that will do to a political career not yet started. Probably not much, but think of the scandal. Your poor mother.”
His face went ashen. “You know my family has enough money to make any charges go away.”
“Maybe, asshole, but the media just loves a smear campaign. Promising young black lawyer fucks it all up. Imagine the headlines. Just another example of black kids behaving badly.”
I knew I’d hit a nerve.
He cleared his throat. “Listen to me, Abbie.”
“Thirty seconds.” I forced my body into a wide stance, knife held with one hand and pointed in his direction. My phone stayed in the other.
Eyes wide with panic, he pushed himself to his feet and headed for the front door with his back to the exit. “Okay. I’ll go, but we’re not done talking yet. I’ll call you later, and we’ll talk this out calmly when you’ve had a moment to think about things.”
“You won’t be calling me, because we’re done. I will never lay eyes on you again. Ten seconds.”
When he reached the front door, he turned and strode through then slammed it shut behind him. Despite the auto locks, I still ran and engaged the deadbolt then the chain. For good measure, I dragged one of the dining room chairs and wedged it against the door.
Adrenaline coursed through my veins, making me shaky as I sank to the floor in the foyer.
Jesus, had I just done that? My body shook. I’d broken up with Easton. Hell, I’d all but threatened to kill him. Now what the hell was I supposed to do?
I laid my head against the door and stared up at the engaged deadbolt. Even though my body shook, my logical thinking functions kicked in. “First things first.”
I pulled out my phone and called a locksmith. The call after that was the most important one I’d ever made in my life. I clenched and unclenched my fists as I listened to the double ringing, willing the line to be answered.
“Hiya, my love.”
I tried to steady my voice, but it trembled nevertheless.
“Faith? It’s Abbie. I need a place to stay.”
