Chapter 4 - Broken Trust & A Comforting Companion

Letisha’s POV

I paid the taxi driver and hurried into Michael‘s apartment building. I had been so overwhelmed by all the events that had taken place today, and his text had been like a much-needed relief.

Michael: Hey, babe. Meeting ended early. Meet at my place for dinner?”

I was looking forward to telling him everything that had happened that day. Everything seemed too incredulous to be real life. Everything from my father trying to arrange a marriage as if we were living in some medieval timeline, to my saving some strange man from bleeding out in an alley—it all seemed to belong in the pages of a novel. Talking with my boyfriend always helped me sort through my feelings. He never tried to direct me to a particular choice but gave me space to decide things on my own.

I stepped out of the elevator on the fifth floor and made my way to his door. I knocked and waited, but there was no answer. Luckily I had thought to bring my key. Despite my never staying over, I had spent quite a bit of time at this place. Michael had given me a spare key in case I ever arrived before he got here. I rarely ever used it, though.

Maybe he hadn’t gotten home yet, or he was on the second floor and couldn’t hear me knocking. I fished out the key and opened the door to the spacious apartment. The first floor was quiet. The lights in the open kitchen and dining area were off. But that was normal since I was the only one who ever used the kitchen anyway. I spotted Michael’s jacket on the floor of the living room and rolled my eyes at his messiness as I bent to pick it up. I folded the jacket and placed it over the arm of the sofa.

That’s when I spotted the two wine glasses on the coffee table. I frowned at the sight. He rarely drank wine.

Had he had company over recently?

“Michael?” I called out as I headed towards the stairs.

My footsteps faltered when I heard the sound of faint laughter drifting down from upstairs.

I stilled.

A woman’s laugh. Soft. Familiar.

Something in my stomach twisted.

I started up the stairs, my pulse kicking up with every step.

“Michael?” My voice was lighter now, expectant. Maybe it was the television? Perhaps it was nothing?

The laughter came again. And then—a low, murmured voice. His voice.

The tightness in my chest turned suffocating as my feet carried me in the direction of his room. The bedroom door wasn’t shut all the way. It was cracked open just enough for warm light to spill into the hall. Just enough for me to hear the rustle of sheets.

“Mikey,” the woman moaned in pleasure, “tell me you love me.”

“I love you. So f*#king much,” he responded, his breathing labored.

I pressed a hand to my stomach as nausea rolled through me.

“Who do you love more? Me or her?”

“There’s no comparison, baby.”

“But you still won’t break up with her? How much longer do you want me to wait for you?”

How much longer? How long had she been waiting?

Not wanting to hear anymore, I reached out with a trembling hand and pushed the door open.

Even though I knew what was happening, the sight of it caused my breath to leave me in a rush. Michael was on the bed, half-undressed, tangled up with a woman. A woman whose long, golden hair spilled over his pillow. A woman whose bare legs were wrapped around his waist. A woman I knew.

Fiona. She turned her head, her lips still curved in a satisfied smile—until she saw me. A slow, wicked smirk replaced it.

Michael jolted upright, trying to cover himself. “Letisha, what are you doing here—?”

“You’re disgusting,” I spat softly, a seething anger taking the place of my shock and hurt.

Fiona shifted lazily, stretching like a cat in Michael’s bed—-slowly lifting the sheet to cover her naked breasts.

“I can explain,” Michael rushed to say.

“Explain? Why would I want to hear you explain how you’re cheating on me with my stepsister?”

I sent an icy glare to Fiona and smirked without humor, “I guess you were right. There really is no accounting for taste.”

I felt a small measure of gratification when the satisfied smirk slipped from her lips and her face heated with anger.

“What is that supposed to mean?” she snapped.

“It means if he was going to be a cheating scumbag, he could have at least chosen better company.”

“You bitch!” Fiona screamed. “Anyone would be better company than a dowdy, boring hag like you! Mikey deserves so much better than you!”

Why was I even lowering myself to argue with this awful witch?

Her vindictive smile returned. “Your mother didn't know how to keep her husband happy either. Like mother like daughter, I guess.”

I froze in shock at her words. I had grown used to Fiona’s cruelty. She’d become accustomed to stealing everything I owned. And honestly, if Michael was stupid enough to cheat on me with Fiona, then good riddance—they deserved each other. She could say whatever she wanted about me. She could call me dowdy or ugly or boring as much as she wanted, but how dare she talk about my mother?!

Something inside me snapped.

I marched right over toward her and lifted my hand to smack those filthy words from her lips, but before my hand could touch her, Michael grabbed my wrist. Almost simultaneously, a stinging slap landed across my cheek. I was so stunned, it took me a moment to realize what had happened.

My eyes moved from a smug-looking Fiona to stare at Michael. He had actually stopped me and allowed Fiona to slap me instead.

“You’re protecting her?” I asked incredulously, hating the hurt that seeped into my voice.

He actually had the conscience to look guilty, but instead of apologizing, he tossed my hand away and frowned angrily.

“Why would you try to hit her? That isn’t like you, Letisha,” he groused.

“I shouldn’t hit her? Why? Doesn’t she deserve it? Should I hit you instead?”

“Enough!” he snapped angrily. “Fine. We weren’t exactly honest, but you’re not entirely blameless in this either.”

I was shocked at his words.

“You bastard! It isn’t shameless enough that you’re cheating on me, but you are trying to blame it on me, too?”

“I’ve been under a lot of pressure lately. With my family and work and…you haven’t exactly been there for me.”

“What the hell are you talking about? I’ve always been there for you.”

“A man needs more than a listening ear, big sister,” Fiona interrupted.

I released a deep breath to calm myself.

“Sometimes I just need to relax,” Michael added.

“So this is about sex,” I clarified.

I had known this man for three years, but now it seemed like I was staring back at a stranger.

“How long has this been going on?” I asked him.

“A while,” Fiona was the one who spoke up. Michael remained quiet, avoiding my gaze.

I couldn’t hear the rest. The blood was rushing too loudly in my ears.

I took a step back, then another. My limbs felt numb, as if my body had disconnected from my mind—as if none of this was real.

But it was.

“Well, Fiona. You should be happy you won’t have to wait any longer.” I turned to Micheal. “I never want to see you again. We’re done.”

~

I held on to the comforting numbness for as long as I could. But the moment I closed the door to my tiny room behind me, I slid to the floor and burst into tears.

Everything that had happened since I’d gone back to my childhood home this morning came crashing through me. I buried my head between my knees and sobbed pitifully.

“What’s wrong?”

I let out a startled yelp, and my head snapped up with such force, it banged into the wall behind me.

I glared accusingly up at the stranger I’d almost forgotten was here. He was looming over me like a dark warrior in a fantasy novel, but the pain in my chest and now my head did not put me in an appreciative mood.

“You’re still here?” I sniffled as I struggled to my feet.

Thick dark brows lowered over equally dark eyes at my question.

“If you’ll allow me to make a phone call, I can be on my way,” he responded coolly.

I had no idea why his response was so hurtful—especially since I’d all but asked him to leave, but it was the final straw that broke the camel’s back.

I marched past him to the bed and grabbed one of the two pillows there. Then I smacked him in the chest. He flinched back, more in surprise than anything else, if the shock on his face was anything to go by.

SO I smacked him again. And cursed him while I was at it.

“You jerk!”

Smack.

“I saved your life, and now you want to leave me?!”

Smack.

“You ungrateful…”

Smack.

“...Lying, awful…”

Smack.

“...cheating scumbag!”

Smack. Smack.

“How dare you sleep with my stepsister, of all people?!”

Smack.

“I hate you!”

The pillow was wrenched from my hand before I could land another hit, and I suddenly found myself enveloped in a restraining hold. It might have resembled a hug, but it seemed a bit awkward. Almost as if he’d never hugged anyone before. I knew I wasn’t making any sense to him. I knew he wasn't Michael, but I’d needed to get that off my chest, and he’d been the unfortunate scapegoat. I should apologize…As soon as I found the strength.

Just then, I didn't even have it in me to pull away from his hold. Even though it ought to have felt awkward being this close to a stranger, it didn't. In fact, it felt almost comforting, and I felt fresh tears spring to my eyes.

I sobbed into his chest.

A hand patted awkwardly at my back.

“I—I’ll stay.”

“What?” I sniffled.

“I don’t know what happened, but I’ll stay. I promise I’ll never leave if you stop crying.”