Alisha choked on the beer she was drinking.
Barry walked out of the bedroom, fastening his jeans. “Val, babe. You’re here.”
Valerie turned. And felt…nothing. What they’d built together—raising children, making a marriage—was gone.
Kahlua was right in a way. Sex with Barry had been only so-so. Once in a blue moon, he’d go down on her so she could get off. He wasn’t inventive or one to exert any effort.
“I’m here for the boxes.” Valerie motioned to the wall.
Still naked, Kahlua handed him a beer. Leaning against the doorframe, he put an arm around her. “You’re looking…good, Val.”
Good, hmm. After all the snark from the two women, Valerie had to clamp down on her urge to let loose, to sound like the sarcastic heroines in her favorite romance novels. But why bother?
She picked up the box.
“I miss you,” he said.
She froze. In December, she’d longed to hear those words. It’d been her choice to move out, but the first month alone had almost broken her. If he’d said something then, she might well have returned.
Not now.
“I’d take you back, you know.” Ignoring Kahlua’s angry gasp, he moved close enough to stroke Valerie’s hair. “I might even toss in a spanking or two.”
The memory blanked her mind. Being laid out on the bed, his hand coming down on her butt with a loud smack, the warmth of an orgasm, the…
No.
“Sorry, but no.” Arms encumbered with the box, she couldn’t shove him away, only retreat a step. “We’re done.”
His mouth tightened, then he nodded. “Have you heard from Hailey or Dillon recently?”
Dillon had been in China since January, setting up a manufacturing plant. Last week, he’d called, and they’d talked for over an hour. Even men in their twenties could get homesick, it seemed. “Dillon won’t be back for another six or seven weeks. And”—no, she wasn’t about to serve as an intermediary between him and their children—“you have a phone, Barry. Call them if you want to know how they’re doing. Or maybe you should invite them over.”
“I’ll call them both.” He scowled…because he had been avoiding having the children over to visit since Kahlua and Alisha moved in. He couldn’t avoid telling them forever.
She sighed. It was bad enough she’d acquiesced when he’d asked her not to tell the children about the slaves. Although, really, how in the world would she have ever found a way to explain? Hailey and Dillon believed Barry could do no wrong.
“Hey, this box is heavy, and I need to go. Good seeing you all.” Such a lie.
As she lugged the box out the door, it occurred to her he hadn’t offered to carry it.
Had he always been such a jerk and she hadn’t realized?
She drove to her apartment in the “New Tampa” area. Near I-75, the complex was just far enough from the university the place wasn’t filled with students.
After storing the boxes in a closet, she forced herself to change into running shorts, sports bra, and a loose tank top. Because exercising was part of her new life.
Ugh, ugh, and ugh.
I can do it. I will.
Once out of her apartment complex, she walked to the Flatwoods Wilderness Park, feeling the heat surround her. Up north, people considered March a springtime month, but in Florida, summer was here already. She should probably jog in the early mornings.
What an awful thought.
Old-growth pines and oaks lined the paved trail, filling the air with their tangy fragrance. After stretching out, she started off at a slow jog. Admittedly, her speed was barely faster than a walk, but, damn, she was proud of herself. Jogging—go, me!
She pulled in deep calming breaths and started to relax. The ugliness of being around Alisha and Kahlua had tensed her whole body.
Conflict was something she avoided. Cruel words and loud voices brought back how her parents would shout at each other…and her…so loudly everyone in the neighborhood heard. It didn’t matter where they were living—Doha, Qatar or in Riyadh, Saudi Arabia or in Muscat, Oman. Mom and Dad never cared what the locals thought. Valerie had been the one who interacted with the Arab housekeepers, and she’d felt humiliated by the sympathetic looks and whispered gossip. The other children, already inclined to dislike her because she was a foreigner—an American—jeered at her.
Even so, she’d managed to make friends with the nicer locals. And learned to create her own safe place, deep inside her mind.
But meditation couldn’t help everything, and insults hurt more when they were true. She hadn’t been a cute child…as her parents had, all too often, complained about.
In her twenties, finally outgrowing her chubby cheeks and awkwardness, she’d been astonished when men found her attractive. When Barry found her attractive. Those had been nice years.
Unfortunately, part of growing older was…growing older. And, admittedly, she’d gained too much weight.
She nodded to another jogger, then smiled to herself. Some of those pounds were gone now, and everything had tightened up. But no matter how much she exercised, she’d never be a fresh-looking twenty-year-old.
At one-and-a-half miles, she turned around and headed back at a nice pace. A motion in the brush caught her eye. Wild turkeys. Then she caught a glimpse of a deer with last year’s fawn. This was such a lovely park.
As she passed a water station, a man jumped off the bench. “Hey, hey, you. Lady. I could use a buck.”
“No money, sorry.” She increased her pace, but he caught up easily.
“Gimme a buck, woman.” His clothes were dirty, his hair greasy. His fingers twitched. And his eyes looked mean.
Oh spit. “Leave me alone.” Don’t show fear. Be loud and firm.
“Money, dammit, bitch.” His long legs kept up easily.
She veered away from his hand into the path of two young men who were passing her. “Hey, guys,” she called. “Could you escort me?”
They slowed, stopped, and turned.
“Fucking cunt,” the guy spat out before veering into the underbrush.
One of the men motioned to her. “C’mon, we’ll get you out of this area and let the cops know there’s someone harassing women.”
“Thank you so much.”
When out of the park, the men resumed their run, and she slowed to a walk, still shaking.
Nonetheless, she wasn’t going to give up her jogging. She simply needed to figure out how to defend herself.
Would pepper spray work? Or she could take self-defense courses? Something.
At least the two men had been nice.
It’d been embarrassing to be panting like a bellows and drenched with sweat trying to keep up with even their reduced speed. She sure couldn’t blame them for not looking at her twice.
Although…could Alisha and Kahlua be right, and no man would be interested in her? That she’d have to pay for sex?
Heavens, how insecure could she get? Then again, after the months of them tearing her down and Barry not disagreeing, of course she was. Who wouldn’t be?
But she wouldn’t let herself stay caged and afraid. They were wrong, and she needed to prove it, not to them, but to herself.
Her shower left her smelling like jasmine rather than sweat—a vast improvement. Picking up her dark red planner, she walked out onto her small balcony that overlooked the preserve.