Truly Mine (30 page)

She stands, still stone-faced. “Truly, what the fuck are you thinking?”

Shit.

She takes hold of my shoulder and shakes me. “Are you kidding me right now? My plans are not to keep doing this. I am stretched so thin. I’m not giving my designs the attention they deserve, and that’s where my heart is.” She sits back down and leans back in her chair. “We both know that our intentions were good when we started doing this, and there was a time when we were passionate about it. We have saved marriages. But it doesn’t feel the same anymore. It’s riskier now than it used to be. People are different. Not to mention, my husband is sick to death of me being a part of this gig. So, yes, you have my blessing. Go be with your man.” She is giddy with excitement—not only for me, but also for herself.

I sigh with relief.

This is the best possible outcome, and I feel like a million pounds has been lifted from my shoulders. “Well, I know we have a lot to wrap up here, so I told Tyler that it will be a couple of months at most.”

“A couple of months? I don’t like the idea of you wandering around while this weirdo is calling you. There’s nothing that you can do anyway. I’ll close up all the books, and if you don’t mind, I will take over the lease for the office space and use it to work on my designs.”

“That’s a great idea about the office space, but we have a client coming in this week, Marie. I have a lot of other personal issues to deal with. It’s going to take a little while.”

“Yes, one week. So, you work with him. Then, finish up with your other commitments, and get out of town. Please,” she begs.

I bend down and kiss her on the top of her head. “I will. I promise. I love you.”

“I love you, too, but you are a pain in my ass.” Marie giggles.

“Well then, have a good evening because I’m going home. I’ll see you bright and early for my very last assignment.”

“That, my friend, is music to my ears.” Marie grins.

I return to my office and gather my things.

As I walk down the sidewalk, I pay special attention to the people and my surroundings—for one, because I have a wacko watching me, but more so because I’m so used to New York that I haven’t taken the time to really notice anything. As I’ve made my way to work and home every day, everything has become a blur of hectic chaos. I’m always so stuck in my own head and my own thoughts that I’ve forgotten to be present. I know, once I get to Fallport, I’ll miss a few things. Although what I have waiting for me is so, so much better than what I’m leaving behind.

I tap out a text to Tyler.

Me: Baby, I miss you already.

Nearly immediately, I get a response.

Tyler: I love you and miss you more than you know.

I know I’m doing the right thing. I can feel it deep down in my heart.

I cross the street and start down my usual path home before I realize what I’ve done. I backpedal as fast as I can, but it’s too late. I’ve taken the path through a wooded area of Central Park. I’ve avoided this route since the threatening phone calls started. It’s very secluded, and someone could approach a person without witnesses.

Much like the man standing in front of me. “I told you I’d find you.”

I turn and begin to run, but I only get a few steps before he grabs me by my hair. My feet fly in the air, and I fall to my bottom with a pain that reverberates through my entire body. I drop my purse and bag in the struggle. The assailant pulls my hair hard with one hand and grabs my shirt with the other, forcing me to a standing position.

He pulls my back to his front and places one hand over my mouth and the other around my waist as he drags me into the wooded area. My heart is racing, and I’m trying to gain my footing. I’m wearing heels, and I can’t get traction on the rocks and dirt. It takes no time before he has me out of sight of anyone who might help me.

His hand slips as I struggle. I don’t have enough air in my lungs to scream loud enough to get a passerby’s attention. I’m facing him now, and he’s even angrier. He balls his fist and slams it into my gut. I double over and heave as I have the urge to vomit. He continues his assault by dragging me backward until the heel of my Vera Wang pump gets tangled in his boot string. We both lose our balance and tumble to the ground.

I try to escape his hold, but he again grabs hold of my hair. This time, he delivers a blow to my ribs that knocks the wind out of me and brings tears to my eyes. I drop my elbow into his groin and scream again. He stands but quickly drops to his knees, letting his grip on my hair loosen enough that I can pull away.

I run, tripping and fumbling my way through the heavily wooded area to the path. There’s a gun in my purse, and I’m ready to blow the bastard in two. I reach the path’s edge on my hands and knees. I can see my purse and bag on the other side of the trail. I don’t know where the strength comes from, but I’m able to get to my feet and stumble to them. I flip my purse upside down, so the contents fall out. Just as he catches up with me, I secure the weapon in my hand. He wraps his arms around my waist and lifts me before he notices the gun in my hand. Frantically, he reaches for it and drops me in the process.

I’m on my feet before he can fight me anymore. “Don’t come near me! Stay there, or I’ll blow your fucking head off!” I scream.

He holds his hands up in defeat. I want to call for help, but my phone is too far away, and I’m afraid to take my attention off of him for even a moment.

“You won this time. But I’ll be back, bitch.”

As I watch his back while he runs away from me, I try to find the will to shoot him in the back. I don’t want to live in fear.

I just can’t do it. Tears fall, and I can no longer see at all. Sobbing uncontrollably, I wipe my eyes and gather my belongings, keeping my gun in hand and pointed in the direction where my attacker ran.

I don’t remember how I got home, but as soon as I do, I frantically call Lissa. “Please come over and do not call Marie.”

She doesn’t question me, and in twenty-two minutes flat, she’s standing over me as I soak in a hot bath. I tell her every detail of the terrifying attack as I alternate between being so angry that I can barely contain myself and crying so hard that I can’t speak at all. By the end of the conversation, we’re both in a fit of tears.

After she’s helped me out of the bath and into my bedroom, she leaves me alone to dress.

“Tru, I’m going to run down and grab us a coffee. Do you need anything?”

“No, thank you.” I want wine, and I have plenty of that.

“You’ll be okay, right?”

“Yes, I’m going to lie down until you get back.”

“Okay. Text me if you need me. I’ll be gone only a few minutes.”

True to her word, she’s not gone long at all. She returns with a latte from the coffee shop around the corner.

I’m lying in my bed, but I can’t seem to close my eyes. Each time I try, it feels as if I’m spinning round and round on a carnival ride, to the point of being nauseated. So, I’m just lying here, staring at the ceiling.

Tyler’s been texting me throughout the evening. I haven’t told him what happened. I’m sure it’s linked to the business, and I don’t want him to know what I do. So, I’ll just have to get through this one on my own.

Lissa kicks her shoes off and pulls down the comforter before crawling into bed with me. She’s calm now, too. We talk into the early morning hours, even laughing. Mostly, we talk about what we’d like our lives in Fallport to be like.

pronunciation
an-tag-uh-niz-uhm

(n.) an anger between conflicting parties; an opposing power

“D
ad, you need to answer your phone now. Something’s happened to Truly. Answer your damn phone, Dad.”

I listen to the message that Rion left me last night. I had already been asleep, and my phone was on the kitchen counter. After a long day yesterday and my lack of quality sleep since Truly had left on Saturday, it’d all finally caught up to me. After talking to Truly a few times through the night, I’d crashed hard. I awoke this morning to so many missed calls that I didn’t even bother listening to Rion’s message when I got it. Instead, I called him immediately. Rion was frantic as he proceeded to tell me that Truly was attacked.

Now, I’m sitting in a cab on my way to her apartment listening to the message for the first time and if my nerves weren’t already shot, this message would have done it. I jumped on the first plane out this morning, and I haven’t let on to Truly that I know what happened to her yesterday. I thought we were making progress, but it’s painfully obvious that I was wrong. I’m pissed that she didn’t tell me there was a problem and that she was in danger, but more than that, I’m hurt. I want to be the first person she comes to when she needs someone. I knew this time apart was a bad idea, but I understood why it had to happen. It’s a nonissue at this point. I won’t be leaving New York without her and everything she owns.

After knocking on the door and getting no answer, I text her.

Tyler: Hi, babe. Where are you?

Truly: At work, of course. What’s up?

I don’t answer her text, and when I get to her office,
I don’t bother waiting for someone to appear this time. I take it upon myself to find my way to Truly’s office. Her door is closed. I knock once and then open it. Never could I have been prepared for what I see.

“What the fuck is going on here?” I shout.

Truly is sitting on the sofa, and a man is kneeling between her legs.

“Tyler!” All color drops from her face, and she pushes the man back as she stands.

Stunned. I’m just stunned. “I don’t believe this shit.”

“No, Tyler. It’s not what it looks like. Let me explain.”

There is no way she can explain her way out of this one. I walked in on two people in a very compromising position—one of which is a woman who professed her love to me just days ago.

“Fuck this!” I turn and head back out the same way I came in.

Truly is hot on my heels. “Tyler.” She grabs my shoulders when she catches up to me, pulling me to a stop.

I spin around, and she takes hold of my arms.

“I know it looks bad, but it’s not at all what you think.”

I take her hands off of me and push them to her sides. She flinches and holds her ribs. I want to feel bad, but she’s betrayed me, and she’s really lucky that I haven’t beaten the shit out of her friend.

“Tyler, I’m an intimacy therapist. I coach men on how to improve the relationship with their partner. I didn’t want to tell you. I didn’t ever want you to know. This client is the last client I’m ever going to work with again. I was teaching him how to show his wife of fifteen years when he is sorry. I swear to you on everything, Ty. I have met him once, other than today.” She buries her face in her hands and begins sobbing.

My mind is racing. I want to believe her so badly, but this is just too wild of a story.

“Excuse me.” The man appears from her office, his face beet red. “But she’s telling you the truth. I’m…leaving now.”

Truly turns and addresses the man, “Alex, I’m so sorry. This is terribly unprofessional. Please don’t leave. You’re scheduled with Lissa in less than an hour.” She looks at me, closes her eyes, and covers her face with her hands. She shakes her head, as if to say she’s sorry and embarrassed.

Lissa, too?

She drops her hands to her chest clasping them together and looks at Alex. “If you’ll just hang out in Lissa’s office, I’ll let her know you’re ready.”

What in the actual fuck is going on?
I feel like I’m being pranked. “This is not happening right now.” I turn away from her and beg the powers that be for this all to be just a dream. I pray that I will wake up any minute and that this will be the shittiest dream I’ve ever had. I can’t even process what the fuck is happening.

“Tyler, please,” Truly begs.

“I thought you guys were designers or some shit. That’s what you told me.”

“I didn’t tell you anything. Marie simply said that she was a designer. And that’s true. She did not say that’s what we do here. I know it’s shady to pass it off as that, but you wouldn’t understand what we do.”

“You’re damn right about that,” I agree.

“Tyler, I’ve been doing this since I came to New York. It started out because we wanted to help people.” She walks down the hall to her office door. “Please come inside and let me explain this mess from the beginning, and then you can do whatever you feel is best for you. But please, if you leave, do it knowing the whole truth.”

Whoa.

What do I have to lose, except for the woman I love?

I follow her into the office and stand as far away from her as I can. I assume the worst—that she’s been having sex with men she calls clients, justifying it by saying that it’s therapy. That, I just can’t deal with.

As if she’s reading my mind, she settles that thought. “I want you to know that I do not have sex with any clients. I never have. I work with our clients on their soft skills, like how they interact with their partners. I also work with them on how they touch and approach their partners and initiate foreplay. I do not ever get intimate with them.”