“Can I get you anything?” He’d not been deterred by her turning her back to him, now he was stroking her from neck to waist, pushing the covers out of the way to do so. She wanted to move into his hand, wanted it so much she could taste it in her mouth, feel it in every pore of her skin. Instead, she steeled herself against it.
“No. Like I said, I’m fine.”
“Lily –”
“Go away, Nate.” She wanted to sound exasperated but instead she sounded something else and even to her own ears, she was pretty certain she sounded defeated.
He didn’t go and he also didn’t say anything more. What he did was shift on the bed so he could sit and stroke her back. She held her body tense. Feeling the tears in her throat, she swallowed them down. She was no match for his attention (this was Nate) and slowly, her body relaxed, and, finally, she fell back to sleep.
When she woke again, it was the dead of night. Nate’s front was pressed to her back, his arm was wrapped tight around her and he’d buried his face in her hair.
Lily laid there a second, allowing herself, for one last time, to pretend.
Then she pulled away, got up and quietly exited the room. After missing dinner, she found she was hungry and made herself a sandwich. Then she went to the family room, turned on the TV and ate. She didn’t watch the TV, however. Her mind was on other things. It was on her beautiful house, her beautiful appliances and furniture, her beautiful new car, her bank account filled with more money than she could ever spend.
Nate had done an excellent job. She could live without him and, in doing so, give their daughter a beautiful home, drive her around in an expensive car and make certain she had everything her little heart desired.
He hadn’t been angry that, in her turning off the phones, he couldn’t get through to her if something had happened.
It had all been for Tash, she realised, pain and bitterness searing through her.
All of it.
In fact, she wouldn’t be surprised if he had told Danielle to tell her he was dead all those years ago, tired of the naïve, clinging farm girl and ready to cut her loose. She’d probably been an interesting diversion, an inexperienced virgin. Men liked that. But once he’d got what he wanted, the interesting part obviously became not so interesting.
But finding that he had a child and also finding that Lily was going to put up a fight, a fight that it would be difficult for him to win (considering what she now convinced herself was his behaviour, his lies, his deceit, just like his brother and sister), he went about winning it another way.
And he enjoyed the spoils of victory in the meantime.
But when she’d told him she loved him, that was something he didn’t need, didn’t want and immediately and remorselessly, he threw it away.
Now that she knew her place, now that he’d made it blatantly clear with that debacle in the very room she was lounging in at that moment, he knew he had her where he wanted her. He’d hold her in the night, take from her when he wanted and leave her when he didn’t.
She was still nothing but a naïve, Indiana farm girl and not for the likes of him except for the tedious fact that she was the mother of his child.
Understanding this made it easier, she told herself (but she didn’t really believe herself). She knew where she stood. She knew why he wouldn’t give her what she needed, why he wouldn’t give her anything of himself.
Because it wasn’t hers to have.
Maybe, she hoped, one day he’d give it to Tash.
On this thought, she fell asleep on the couch only to be woken what seemed like minutes late, because she was being lifted in the air.
Automatically, her hands moved around Nate’s shoulders.
“What…?” she began, vaguely noticing he’d turned off the television and the light.
“You sleep with me.” Nate’s voice was back to harsh, gone was the softness he’d shown her when she had the headache.
“I don’t think –” she started again as he cleared the room and headed for the stairs. She tried to push out of his arms but they went tight as steel bands.
“You sleep with me,” he repeated, again roughly and in a tone that would accept no denial.
“Let me down,” Lily demanded and he did, on the ground level landing but he took her hand and dragged her up the next two flights of stairs. As they were close to Fazire and Tash’s rooms, Lily didn’t make a peep and didn’t pull away.
Once they were in their room, he closed the door and dragged her straight to bed where he brought them both to a halt.
“I don’t understand why you –” Lily turned to him but he interrupted her again.
“What will Tash think if she sees you sleeping on the couch?” Nate snapped.
It felt like he’d punched her in the stomach and at the same time, her heart shattered.
“Of course,” she murmured, “Tash.”
It was all for Tash. Looking back at the last two months, she knew that everything he did was for Tash. A mother and father, living together, for Tash.
She made her decision. Surprisingly this time it wasn’t difficult.
She yanked her hand from his and crawled into bed on his side where he’d stopped them, making her way to her own and settling, her back to him.
He joined her in bed, flicked the covers over them and hooked her about the waist, dragging her across the bed and into the warmth of his body.
She tried to pull away but in her ear, he hissed, “Lie still.”
“Tash doesn’t care how we sleep, Nate,” Lily snapped back, her tone bitter. She gave an almighty pull and slid away. Then she waited, tense, for him to pull her back.
He didn’t.
She didn’t fall asleep but she heard (she thought, but she was wrong) when he did. Then, hours later, when it was time, she got up, took her clothes, her makeup and everything she needed and locked herself in the bathroom and didn’t come out until she was ready to face the day and to face Nate.
When she opened the bathroom door, it was Nate who was pacing. He was wearing dark blue pyjama bottoms, what he’d been wearing last night when he’d dragged her to bed, and he was pulling a hand through his hair.
Upon the door opening, he stopped and swung to her. His hand didn’t fall but stayed at the back of his neck and he stared at her. Not like she was a bug under his scrutiny, not blank, not detached, but she couldn’t tell what she read on his face and she no longer cared. She tried not to care about how beautiful he was, standing there with his muscular chest, tight stomach, black hair, dark, intense eyes and powerful frame but she couldn’t. Perhaps, she thought distractedly, with practice she’d be able to do that. One day.