“Do you hear me? Say yes, Lauren,” he commands, sitting forward with his elbows leaning on his knees. His voice is sure, confident, and ice cold as he stares at me like he wouldn’t mind grabbing and shaking me.

I feel so vulnerable and defeated by his anger.

“Y-yes.” I sound scared because I am.

He went from calm to scary and then to cruel in a matter of minutes.

He pours himself more wine, and I let myself back inside, leaving my food for him to clear.

I turn on the water in the shower, feeling ill as I take my clothes off piece by piece. I’m clean, but I need to clear my head. Soft black jersey leggings, white V-neck T-shirt, and a pair of lacy bra and panties sit in a heap in the corner of this luxurious white marble bathroom. All at once, I straighten my back and make another conscious decision not to listen to him. I’m an adult. I refuse to allow his opinion of me—or any man’s opinion, for that matter—affect how I see myself. I’ve spent too many years hanging my self-worth on a man’s opinion, and I’m sick of it. I guess, in some twisted way, I can thank the shooting for that.

Slade believes I’m nothing more than a beautiful outer shell? Well, fuck him! Any man who believes that is missing out on me—a woman with intelligence and kindness and more love and loyalty in her pinkie than any of them have in their entire bodies. The right man is out there for me, somewhere. I just haven’t found him yet. Just because Slade’s decided I’m not valuable doesn’t mean my fate is decided. He can kiss my perky ass.

10

Slade

Lake Powell is a sight to behold. White houseboats line the sandy shore while kids play in the water, drifting down slides and balancing on colorful noodles. Once upon a time, I would have wanted a life just like this. Beautiful wife. Few kids. I crack my knuckles, refocusing. None of that is meant for me.

I’m holding a plastic bag filled with two six-packs of Corona that we picked up from a bodega on our way. Vincent’s got the bag of lunches and drinks the hotel packed for us to take on this excursion.

“Oh my God!” Lauren exclaims, pointing toward the boats. “Those are so awesome. Eve, we should totally rent one of these houseboat thingies one day. Do you see how the slide is connected to the boat? I love it!”

I can’t help but smile at her exuberance. Lauren’s personality is bent toward happiness. Hands on her slim hips, she looks around with joy. Being near her reminds me of what I’ll never have. She’ll wind up happy—so long as she stays far away from me.

I’m a shithead for talking to her the way I did last night, but it’s for her own good. She needed to know the score. And my temper? I lost complete control when she asked me about Vegas. Just another event pointing to the fact that I’m fucked up in the head and losing control of myself.