Being Me(Inside Out 02)(69)

Don’t you think?”
He’s obsessed and sick. “You just want me so I can inherit
and you can take my money.”
He leans closer and it’s all I can do not to jerk back, to show
weakness. “I just want the woman I love to come home, Sara.”
There is no love in his voice, only possessiveness, ownership.
“I’m at the Marriott airport hotel. I expect to see you soon.” He
steps around me and he is gone, leaving me in the quicksand of
his threats.
I stand there frozen, eroding inside. The room falls away and
there is nothing but what happened two years before, and the
black hole of my torment. And the certainty that I brought this
on myself and Chris, with my actions, my foolishness. My weakness. I’d just been so damn alone, so lost, and Michael had been the

one connection I had to my mother, and the father who seemed
to want nothing to do with me. And he’d seemed different. Or
maybe I just wanted him to be different. Deep down, I’d craved an
excuse to go home, to have a home. Michael had been warm and
charming, and I’d felt like I was meeting him all over again, that I’d judged him harshly in the past. But I’d been wrong, so very wrong.
I can feel myself spiraling down into the hell of that night.
I’m starting to crumble and I know I have to get somewhere
private and pull myself together, to think and find a way out
of this. My gaze lifts, seeking an escape route, and collides with Chris’s from across the room. I see the worry in his face, feel it from a distance. That’s how powerful our connection is, and the vise around my chest tightens. Oh, God. I love this man, and I’m about to destroy him. I turn away from him and weave through
the crowd. I cannot face him until I pull myself together, to get
through tonight without a public meltdown.
Darting away, I weave through the crowd, worried Chris will
catch up to me before I gain my composure, before I figure out
how to fix this mess, but I have no idea where I’m going. I’m
just walking, weaving, blindingly seeking escape.
I grab a passing waiter. “Ladies’ room?”
He points to a sign and I rush away, turning a corner, close to
escape, when I bump right into Gina. “Sorry. I’m sorry.”
She grabs my arms to steady me and casts me a concerned
look. “Are you okay?”
“Yes. Yes. I ate something that didn’t sit well. I need a bathroom.” It’s a horrible excuse but it’s all I have.
“Okay.” She steps aside and calls, “Do you want me to get
Chris?”

“No!” I exclaim, whirling around. “Please no. I don’t want
him to see me like this.” I push open the door and walk past the
woman at the sink, and I don’t dare look at her. I head inside
the handicapped stall directly in front of me and lock the door.
On wobbly legs, I fall against the wall opposite the toilet. This
is what everything in my life has collided together and become.
Me, staring at a toilet, trying not to fall apart. Somehow it’s perfectly appropriate.
A flashback of two years ago overtakes me. Of Michael driving me back to my hotel and walking me to my door. Of how
gentle and sweet he’d seemed. I’d invited him in to talk. Just talk, I’d told him.
The instant the door had shut, everything had changed. He’d
been angry, damning me for leaving, for making him look bad.
I can almost feel the moment he slammed me against the wall
and his body covered mine. And his hands were everywhere, all
over me. I start to shake again. I can’t stop shaking. I hug myself and will away the memories. My eyes prickle and I will away the tears. I will not give Michael the satisfaction of making me cry. I have to go back to the party and look presentable. I have to smile.
I have to get through this night without ruining it for Chris.
“Sara!”
It’s Chris’s voice, and I can’t believe he’s in the bathroom. He
never does what I expect or what is normally considered acceptable. And he is always there at my worst moments. Always. The
only person who ever has been.
“She’s in the back stall,” the woman at the sink instructs.
“Can you give us a minute?” he asks.
“I’ll watch the door,” she tells him, clearly knowing him.

Great. Already someone to tell the world about some incident
Chris’s date had tonight.
“Sara.” His voice is a soft caress, a promise he is here for me,
maybe for the last time.
“You can’t be in here, Chris.” And damn it, my voice cracks.