Something Borrowed

Chapter 36: That Night

            The fresh aroma of peonies and lemons filled my senses as I rested my head back on the rim of the tub. It was soothing, warming my chilled bones. Louis Armstrong crooned above me in the speakers, drowning out my thoughts. My lids were heavy, lazily drooping as a cool smile spread across my lips as I recalled my last encounter with Nathaniel.

I felt so much better after I wrote that scathing letter to Nathaniel, the one I left on my desk for him to find, addressed to him in my long, sloping handwriting. After our encounter in his office, I left Lyon and came back to Paris, greeted by my big, empty, quiet penthouse. The first thing I did was pack up Nathaniel's book collection that he had sent to the penthouse before I moved in, leaving the library walls bare. I had packed them neatly into a big, cardboard box and dropped it near the elevator. Then, I had boxed up anything that reminded me of him: the jewels, the gowns, the photos, anything that remotely reminded me of him, I packed up and placed them by the door, ready to be picked up by the idiot himself.

I never wanted him here again, or anything that could be traced back to him in my home. This was my sanctuary; I couldn't stomach knowing he had anything here, although, I did love his book collection. Everything of his reminded me of the sham of a life I lived. I loved the beach houses and the lifestyle, I loved it more than I could have ever hoped. But life isn't complete without someone to share it with, and that's what Rafael had taught me.

We'd grown so close while I was in Spain, he and I had gotten along so well, I was rather fond of his company. He'd encouraged me to speak to Nathaniel, oh; how he had such high hopes for the conversation I shared with Nathaniel today. He saw the good in Nathaniel, he saw the man I used to see, but I've learned to see past the guild. I know Nathaniel, and I knew he would never let me out of this marriage, a part of me probably even knew that before the actual marriage, but I didn't care back then. I was in love with him-I was infatuated with everything about him-probably his unavailability the most. I've always had a passion for the things that I could never have.

He made me believe there was something more to us, I suppose that was probably to make sure I wouldn't bolt, and after the first three blissful days of our honeymoon, he turned into exactly the type of man he promised he wouldn't be. He was a narcissistic, possessive, neglectful, phantom husband. He was my husband when it was convenient, to remind me about our deal. I think I hated him the most when he did that-portrayed me as the bad guy when he found out Rafael and I were seeing each other. He had such a double standard, at least I chose a man with morals. Especially when he snuck away to be with Portia, I mean, couldn't he have found a more decent human being to sleep with?

I let out a frustrated sigh, trying not to think about Nathaniel. I had no right to think about him, he and I were never alike, no matter how much I believed we were in the beginning. I used to think I wanted the same things he did, but the more I got to know him, the more I realized we were too different.

The water was reaching the bottom of my chin, but I didn't mind. It was so warm and soothing, it was a welcome distraction. I sank deeper into the water. The water lapped over the rim of my tub, but I didn't mind, the sound of the water was relaxing.

I submerged myself, embracing the silence that came with it. It was soothing, being completely vulnerable in the tub, knowing that at any moment, I wouldn't have to worry, about any of it, ever again.

I wouldn't have to think about Livingston's concern.

I wouldn't have to think about Rafael's proposal.