Goodbye Ain't Ever Meant A Thing

Chapter One

Packing her bags quickly, she made sure each and every item was folded neatly. He would go through her bag before she left to make sure that none of her clothing was deemed as too revealing. She looked at herself in the mirror, hiding the smile she knew would never stop it she let it shine for even a second while she was with him. Her reddish auburn hair stood proud against her tanned skin. The slight freckles made her sage green eyes pop, eyes that were always lined with the slightest bit eyeliner. It was the time of the year she looked forward to. A week of nothing but camping with her friends and family, and one very important person. Her best friend of a thousand years, Brantley. Last year, her renegade cowboy had been fulfilling his lifelong dream, touring like the true rock star he was, which meant he had missed their camping trip. She pulled the fabric of her jade green maxi dress down just a bit to smooth the fabric out. The dress flattered her figure, but not enough that it should be an issue with the man who ruled her life.

"Honey, I'm home!" She heard the front door closed. His thick British accent rang throughout the loft. She exhaled and plastered the same old smile on her face that she usually did as she walked from her bedroom to the lavash flats living room. The white walls seemed cold with no pictures, nothing like her childhood home. The modern furniture was a vast contrast to the rustic barn style decor she loved so much. This country girl didn't fit into the high maintenance lifestyle she was living.

"Hello Darling," She beamed, nearly sick to her stomach with each word. His dark brown hair was the first thing she saw, followed by the blue eyes that hid such a dark secret, and his cheekbones that stood out proud, kind of resembling Eddie Redmayne if she had to pinpoint it. To the average woman, he was breathtaking. Accompanied by his English accent and he was quite the treasure. But at last, appearances are deceiving. "How was work?"

"Oh, the same as always. Gaga was throwing a real fit about the CD were producing. Such a drama queen." He spoke shortly, stopping in his tracks as he looked at the table. The table that had yet to be set, "Sienna, darling, where's dinner?"

"It's just finishing now. I was coming out to set the table right away," She spoke quickly. She rushed to the kitchen, her heels clicked loudly under her as she pulled the plates from the cabinets. Setting them on the table she stole a quick glance at the man who was glaring at her hard enough to burn holes through her back. She quickly set the rest of the table before pulling the roast from the oven and bringing it to the table.

"Sienna, what is the one thing I ask of when I come home?" His accent was thick as he stepped closer to her.

"To have dinner ready." She stared at the ground as she stopped what she was doing. She knew the anger that was building within and she could only hope he wouldn't let it out. Just this once. He knew she was leaving for her parent's house once they were done with dinner. With a five hour drive ahead of her she needed her strength and energy, and she was just too tired to fight. She watched carefully as he inhaled deeply, his hand balling into a fist until his knuckles turned white. Nodding his head he walked away, letting her exhale the breath she had kept captive. She walked to the stove, leaning over to remove the saucepan that was the final piece of dinner. She hadn't even heard him come behind her as she went to turn around. Her hips were pinned to the stove, the pan was taken from her hand and set down as he gripped her hand hard with the other. Inching her hand towards the once burning coil, he whispered in her ear. "Now, darling, I don't think that I ask too much now do you?"

"No, no not at all. I just wanted to make sure that dinner was hot for you. You've been getting home so late lately." She pleaded with him as she tried to pull her arm away.

"That's what I thought." He mumbled as he set her hand on the edge still hot coil. Trying to pull back, she held her scream at bay the best she could. The pain of her burning flesh made her hand tremble. He released her hand and walked calmly to the table. Nearly collapsing she pulled herself together, wiped her eyes and resumed the night just as if it was any other night. She brought the sauce to the table, setting it down as she dished up the man before her. She hated this. This 1950s expectation of the good little wife she was supposed to be. But soon, soon he'd find that little note hidden away under his pillow. She plastered her fake smile on her face once more, ignoring the burning and poured a glass of wine.