CATERINA

    Ihonestly didn’t think Gianni would give me the space I needed. Sure, I asked for it. I physically removed myself from the bedroom. I’ve gone out of my way to avoid him–sneaking around the house when I know he’s busy in his office, basically pulling a Tatiana otherwise. I’ve done a lot of reading and caught up on a lot of shows that I’ve been meaning to binge. The nights are tough, especially since I’ve gotten used to sleeping next to him and being alone isn’t easy. I doubt it’s any easier on him.

    It sort of gives me hope, in a way. He’s not trying to push himself on me the way he would have done before. There’s no begging or forcing. He’s not chasing me through the house or seducing bme /b–which I have never, ever been able to fight back against. It’s like my Achilles heel, the sexual chemistry between us. Only he hasn’t taken advantage of that.

    I wish I could believe this means he’s genuinely turned over a new leaf, but a big part of me can’t help but be suspicious. Is this his way of yessing me to death? ying along to keep me from walking away for good?

    Thank you for being so understanding. I skim the rest of the email to make sure there are no typos, then send it off to my manager. The fact that I still have a job is a miracle. No, I don’t really want it, but that doesn’t mean I want to be a total jerk and no–call, no–show. Thistest leave of absence would probably get anybody else fired, but everybody seems understanding.

    If I didn’t know better, I’d think Gianni was behind all of this.

    Wait. Who am I kidding? I don’t know better. I’d bet he called somebody and fixed things for me. The more I think about it, the more obvious it looks. If I had any desire to speak to him right now, I’d march downstairs and tear him a new one for once again interfering where he wasn’t invited.

    The thing is, I have no desire to speak to him yet. It’s been a week, and I still have nothing to say that wouldn’t end things immediately. That’s not what I want–out of everything, all the confusion and sadness, and even with the sense of betrayal still fresh, I still don’t want us toe to an end. I can’t live without him.

    I just don’t know how to be with him right now, that’s all. A week of thinking about it hasn’t helped anything. I doubt a month would. Our entire rtionship has been a puzzle. Why would things change now?

    One thing I do know: I need to get out of the house. Acting like a hermit might work for Tatiana, but I need something more than the same four walls, or I will start going out of my mind. It can’t be healthy for the baby, either, lying around when I don’t need to. Sneaking up and down the stairs while listening to make sure Gianni isn’t nearby. Dreading thep p pof his shoes against the hard floor, knowing the second I set eyes on him, I’ll want to give in. That’s no way to live.

    Yet, here I am, refusing to go. No matter how many times I turn the situation around in my mind, I can’t get any closer to making sense of it. I should go. This should be the end. Nobody would put up with this sort of shit–and if I was on the outside of this situation and listening to a good friend tell me about the kinds of things I’ve been through, I might tell her to go. For good.

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    128

    However, there’s a difference between standing on the outside and being bon /bthe inside. I understand that better now than I ever did before. Lunderstandhimand why he does what he does. And damn it, I love him. I can’t walk away from somebody I love. Especially when I’m carrying his child.

    Yeah, I definitely need to get out of this house. After pulling on a sweater and leggings, I add a pair of sneakers and go to the door to listen for any signs of him. I’m not afraid. That much, I know. He won’t hurt me. No, I’m afraid, as I tiptoe down the hall with my heart in my throat, that if I see him, it’s over. My anger will melt into a puddle. A puddle I’ll slip in and inevitablynd in Gianni’s arms. I get the sense that if I don’t hold out and make him understand what he did and why it hurts so much, I’ll never get another opportunity again.

    The upstairs hall is clear, as is the vast, winding staircase. I remember back when this house felt foreign to me. It took forever to feelfortable walking around on my own, no matter how many times Tatiana told me I could. Compared to where I grew up, this is a pce.

    Now, here I am, jogging down the stairs, leaning over the railing asionally to see if anyone ising my way. It’s ludicrous, and I know it, but that’s not enough to stop me. I don’t need anybody asking where I’m going and reporting back to Gianni. Besides, I’m not sure where I’m going. Away from here, that’s all I know for sure.

    I reach the bottom of the stairs, and my gait slows a little when I look toward the door leading to Tatiana’s wing. She used to leave it open sometimes, back when we were younger. Now, it’s always

    dressed or closed. She lives in her own world of pain and loneliness. I don’t even know if she’s up or anything. I don’t even know if she’d want to spend time with me if I asked. How is it that we’ve drifted so far apart?

    When footsteps ring out, I have no choice but to either leave now or risk getting caught up with Gianni and probably arguing about whether it’s okay for me to go out alone. I’m not trying to take a massive risk. I know better than to parade myself around after what’s already happened. That’s not going to fly with Gianni though, and I know it.

    So instead of approaching my best friend and asking her to take a drive with me, I bolt, scurrying outside. It doesn’t feel right, running from the house like this, even so, I can’t face him now. I’m still too conflicted.

    On the other hand… I can’t risk anything happening while I’m out on my own. Already my conscience is guing me, but it’s for the right reasons. There’s a guard patrolling nearby, rounding the side of the house and approaching when he finds me standing by my car.

    “Nathan?” I call out when I recognize him.

    “Everything alright?”

    “It’s fine. I have to take a drive and wonder if you’de with me.” When he nces toward the front door, I know what he’s thinking. “I’m sort of in a hurry. We won’t be long, and you’re armed. Right?”

    “Right.” But it looks like he wishes he hadn’t found me out here, just the same. Better somebody else get in trouble.

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    “Come on. I’ll drive.” When he scowls, I add, “It’s been weeks since I had the chance. You can drive back if it makes you feel better… or you can stay here and be the one who lets me go off on my own.” Sort of a shitty thing to say? Maybe, but nevertheless, it gets the point across. He rounds the car and slides into the passenger seat while I text Gian to tell him I’m leaving and am not alone. There’s a sense of something close to confusion when I get behind the wheel. It’s not like I forgot to drive or anything, yet thest time I did was thest time I went to work. Thest time I opened the door, it was with the expectation of going out with my best friend and having dinner.

    Instead, I was kidnapped, and from there, it only got worse.