Satin Princess(5)

“How can you be sure?”

I think back to a few hours ago. Anton was sitting next to me on a very different bed. He held my hand, kissed me, promised me a future that I was ready to jump into with both feet, eyes closed.

I want you in my bed.

“He wanted me to move in with him,” I admit.

She raises her eyebrows in shock. “Really? But why would he want that?”

I shrug. “I asked him the same thing. It didn’t make any sense to me. It still doesn’t. But the only explanation that makes sense is that… he might have feelings for me, too.” I say the last part in a whisper, as if voicing it too loud will break it apart.

“Wow,” Freya says, floored.

“Is it crazy that I still kinda want to stay?” I whisper. I’m fairly sure that of everyone in my life, Freya is the least likely to judge me.

“With him?” she asks.

I nod, avoiding her eyes.

She doesn’t answer for so long that I start to feel my anxiety building. Then finally, she puts her hand on mine again. “Nothing seems crazy when you’re in love,” she says gently.

I give her a grateful smile. “Thank you, Freya. You’re the only one I can talk to without feeling ashamed.”

“You have nothing to feel ashamed about. He does, though.”

I shrug. “I don’t think Anton wastes his time feeling bad about things. He takes life head-on.”

“I understand the appeal.”

“Was your ex-boyfriend like that?” I ask.

She gives me a sad smile. “He was very similar.”

I can tell how much her past still weighs on her. She can’t bring herself to talk about it too much. Leaving an abusive relationship is one thing. Leaving your home, friends, and family at the same time is a whole different kind of challenge.

“What are you gonna do?” she asks.

“Leave,” I say simply. “I don’t know where I’ll go, but I know I have to leave.”

“How soon?”

“Tomorrow, if I can manage it. If I stay in this city too long, he will find me.”

Her expression changes. It becomes more focused, more calculating. She gets up and starts pacing by the foot of the bed. “I’ve got an idea. Hear me out, okay?”

I’m reluctant, but I owe it to her. “Okay.”

“London.”

I frown. “Um, was that the whole plan or am I missing a few parts?”

“I’ve been thinking of making a trip back to England lately,” she says. “How about we go together? That way, you’d have a place to stay and I can go back home with an escort.”

“What about your ex?”

“He’s no longer an issue,” she says confidently. “And anyway, he won’t have any idea that I’m back in the country.”

It does seem like the best possible option at the moment. England. I’ve never been, and the prospect of having an ocean between Anton and me sounds very appealing.

“When would you leave?” I ask.

“I was planning on leaving in a few weeks, but I can move up my plans. We can buy our tickets right now and be on a plane tomorrow.”

“That’s so… soon.”

“It fits into your timeline.”

I nod, trying to wrap my head around the idea. Everything in my life has gone topsy turvy, and I’m not sure which way is up anymore.

“I know it’s scary, Jessa,” she says, moving closer to me. “But it’ll be scarier if you’re on your own, won’t it?”

She has a point.

“Are you sure you want me to come? This could get you involved in a serious way. I don’t want to cause you any trouble.”

She waves away my worries. “I’m one hundred percent positive.”

I lean over and throw my arms around her. Her hair smells like flowery shampoo and something else slightly chemical.

“So we’re doing this?” Freya asks, pulling away. “We’re really eloping to England together?”

I nod and giggle nervously. “If you’re sure I won’t be imposing—”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” she dismisses. “You’re my friend.”

“Okay,” I whisper. “Okay.”

“Yay!” She claps her hands together. If I wasn’t so nervous, her excitement might be catching. She sits on the edge of the bed and pulls out her phone.

“What are you doing?”

“Looking for flights. I can book right now.”

Fear snakes up my throat. I glance at the walls to check if they really are closing in on me from all sides or if my mind is playing tricks on me. I try to count my breaths, but even that doesn’t help.

“Are you going to withdraw your savings?” she asks, glancing up from her phone momentarily. “I’d recommend that. If you use your card, he’ll probably be able to track you.”

“Good point,” I mumble, but I don’t think I’m audible.

Suddenly, I want to see Chris. I want to hear him say that this is a good idea.

“While you do that, I’m gonna go find Chris, okay?”

She barely looks up from her phone. “Sure. I’ll book the tickets.”