My Billionaire and I

Chapter Five

Chapter Five

I am a dreamer, but also a person who likes her sleep. If I have a dream I’ll wake up in the middle of the night…and that’s exactly what happened. I guess you could say it was a nightmare, one that haunted me for years and was the main cause of me disobeying my mother. I sat up in bed, and waited for the sun to rise. If I went back to sleep I knew that it could only get worse - and it has done so before. By the time seven came I was tired, kaput. I was ready to get some food in my system and to do some class work to get rid of THAT dream. “Morning,” I watched as Braxton slowly woke up from his slumber and looked at me, “What’s wrong?” I sighed and just held on to him, I didn’t feel like talking, but I also felt that he wasn’t ready to accept that part of my past.

At breakfast, around nine, Braxton and I looked exhausted. It was like through our hour long embrace he could feel how I felt. “Well you two sure do look tired.” His parents placed everything on the table outside on the deck overlooking the private lake. “You wouldn’t understand if we tried to explain so we won’t.” “Don’t think that way for too long. You get that sense of compassion and empathy and sympathy from us.” “It’s why your father says that a man who cries is truly a man worth marrying and revealing all your secrets to.”  I looked at Braxton and him at me. He squeezed my hand, held it up to his face, and kissed it. All I could do was smile and hope that he would understand my situation, my past.

We left for the city with praise from his parents but the happiness could only last for so long. I texted back and forth with Karin, asking whether I should tell Braxton about my past or not…she said yes. “How stable is your mind?” “Pretty stable, why?” “There’s something I wanna tell you.” “Shoot.” I sighed deeply before progressing to tell him the summarized version of my past. “When I was younger, I did plenty of pageants…too many to count. I won several of them but at one point during nationals I almost lost. After that I quit because I just couldn’t take it anymore and feared that only worse could happen to me.” He remained silent and then spoke, “Tell me the full story, what exactly happened. It can’t be that bad.” It was bad, it was terrible. I sighed once more and told him the story.

During nationals there was this one girl, all American in stereotype mode and attitude. The judges, a group of males, loved everything about her. It made plenty of other contests and mothers angry but my mother was furious. She would do anything for me to win; there was more than a million dollars at stake and was not about to let it slip through her hands so easily. The morning of the final round and decision date, around midnight, my mother dragged me from our hotel room to another. “I’m going to make sure that you win.” At the time I didn’t understand what she meant. I was so tired that I didn’t care where we were going or what time it was. When we arrived at the room one of the judges opened the door and whispered to my mother. She nodded her head and pushed me into the room. After that I don’t remember much other than waking up naked. I was so scared. Never had I been that scared in my entire twelve years of life. My mother came in, dressed me as if it was nothing, and went over the routine with me. “As long as you follow everything you are supposed to do you will win.” Let’s just say that I won and it wasn’t fair. The other girl did fire breathing while I did a magic trick my father taught me before he divorced my mom.

After telling the story to Braxton he was silent. I couldn’t tell if he was angry or not, so I decided to leave out an important part. Hours later he dropped me off on campus and left with only a silent kiss that scared me. When I got to my dorm I sat in my chair near the window and cried. Seldom do I cry, thus, when I do it is heartbreaking. I cried so hard that it triggered a migraine and cold. I felt as though I had failed myself at an attempt at love, a relationship. As spring break approached I planned a trip home to see my pride and joy. He was not what was desired but he is loved no less than if he were desired.

Spring break arrived faster than I had expected at the time but that only meant that time would soon slow down. When I got to my home city I went to my two bedroom townhouse down by the river in downtown. Being home felt good, seeing everything that I worked so hard for and pictures of my dad and I that I left in haste when leaving for university. I put my things away and changed into an above the knee dress with cardigan and flats. From the kitchen I walked into the single car garage and found my VW Beetle Convertible waiting for me. I got in, started the ignition, opened the garage door with a button, and backed out. I drove, top down, to the meeting place I always had arranged for him. I sat on one of the park benches and waited…and waited…and waited. “Momma!” I looked up from my nails to see my four year old son, Peyson, running up to me. “Hey!” Before I could reach out my arms to hug him, he was already wrapped around me. “I missed you mommie.” “I missed you too sweetie.” When I look at him all I can see is my dad’s side. I guess that happens when the guy who raped you was British, but I can’t stay mad at him. He unknowingly gave me the best present I could ever ask for, a child to call my own.  “Can I have ice cream?” “Of course! Anything for my sweet.”