Belong (Seven Year Itch #3)(2)

It took me two hours to break her.

I’d found out what her favorite pastries were and had them freshly delivered. While she was busy working, I had her Mercedes Benz detailed and filled the tank with premium gas. I even provided her with lunch, which was one hundred percent vegan, according to her standards.

From that day on she began opening up. We’d actually talk when we crossed paths, and soon I gave asking her out another go.

I know what you must be thinking. She’s a snob. She’s a bitch. Why would someone with a brain want to be with a cold-hearted woman?

Veronica was a lot more than meets the eyes.

It took her sixteen dates to get her to open up to me, and in that time I learned to appreciate other things about the sultry woman.

I knew right away she had secrets, and I was okay with it. We all have a past; some of us wishing we could get mulligans to correct what we’d thought we’d done right the first time. I never pressed her for information, but slowly proved she could trust me.

Our physical relationship took a while to heat up. First we became friends. She let down her walls and explained so much to me, causing me to want to do whatever I could in order to understand everything she’d gone through.

Months after we began to have a relationship, Veronica opened up regarding the brutal truths of her past.

She’d come from a poverty stricken town south of the Mexican border. Her father, an ex-associate of the head of the cartel, had been killed during an illegal delivery of narcotics to Miami back in the eighties. Her American mother fled, bringing her daughter back to the states to provide her with a proper life.

She changed their names, and lived without a paper trail for many years. When Veronica became a teenager her mother finally told her the truth; who she was and where they’d come from. She also divulged some gut-wrenching news, which caused Veronica to lose trust in society. When Veronica was only six her uncle had began molesting her. During that time, Veronica was forced into a small broom closet for hours at a time until she’d agree to cooperate with the man. She was abused physically, first in places no one would notice, and then obvious areas, punched and cut.

When her mother discovered what was going on she did what every good parent would have. She attacked the man in his sleep, stabbing him several times and leaving him for dead.

She learned it was one of the reasons her mother left Mexico. She wanted to get away and hide from the brutal attack and discovery she’d made, hoping she could keep it all from her daughter. Unfortunately, Veronica suffered from severe depression. She may have blocked it from her memory, but she knew something wasn’t right.

She was withdrawn when it came to men. Once in a school setting, Veronica was assessed by professionals, and was put into therapy to help her recover from her obvious fears.

She said it wasn’t until she was a teenager when she realized something was preventing her from interacting with teenage boys. That’s when her mother came clean and explained what she’d been through.

Veronica never went into details, and it broke my heart to ask about it any further. The idea of a grown man touching a child makes me ill. I’d never been a violent kind of guy, but it makes me want to commit murder.

Veronica had been in therapy for much of her life, having once suffered from social anxiety, and Androphobia, which translates to a fear of men.

The way she’d acted around me finally made sense, and even though I felt sorry for her young life experiences, I fell in love with the gentle soul she hid away from the rest of the world.

It took a very long time for her to trust me; to let me into her life completely. I was patient, gentle, and extremely understanding. A year later we moved in together. I became her rock, and I can honestly say we were happy for a time.

Our daughter was born two years after we were married. Harper was as beautiful as her mother, with light brown eyes that popped amidst her olive complexion. She was spoiled beyond belief, and I don’t think there was anything in the world Veronica wouldn’t give her.

She was, and always has been a good mother. I’ll give her that. She’d lie down and die before she ever let anything happen to our child.

A part of me wishes it were how she felt about me. Now I wonder if Veronica has ever been capable of loving any man with her whole heart.

While I stared down at the photos of my wife in compromising situations with her female psychiatrist, I fear what’s next to come. Are they in love? Is she planning on taking Harper away from me? Would she be so cold?

My phone rang again, this time from the carpet. I got down and crawled to fetch it, finally bringing it up to my ear. “Yeah.”

“Hi, Daddy.”

I smiled when I realized it was Harper’s voice, my five-year-old daughter. “Hi, sunshine. What are you still doing up?”

“I was waiting for you. Mommy said I could.”

“Oh, she did? Mommy is going to be in trouble for that.” In more ways than one.

“Will you come home now, Daddy?”

I sighed and realized I couldn’t hide out at the office forever. This situation was going to need to be dealt with, even if I wasn’t going to like the consequences. “Sure. I’m on my way. Why don’t you go get into bed and I’ll tell you a story as soon as I get there.”

“Okay. I love you, doo doo head.”

I snickered. When we were playing around she liked to get away with calling me that. Some would say it was inappropriate, but Harper didn’t speak that way in front of others. It was our thing.