When he finally reached his peak, he slipped off of me and rolled over. I didn’t need to look at him to see his pleased face. But to be fair, Jeremy was a
selfish husband, but a giving lover.
Rolling away from him, I let out an audible sigh as I stared at the alarm clock.
Jeremy snuggled up behind me and kissed my shoulder. “I hope this time we
made a baby. We would make the most beautiful children,” he whispered in my
ear.
Not a chance in hell, I thought smugly. The white pills I had been popping each day ensured there would be no little Whittakers brought into this world by
me. Jeremy was right though. We would have beautiful children.
Jeremy was the perfect ‘Cali Boy’ – blond hair, blue eyes, athletic, and charming. As for me, he often complimented my dark hair and hazel eyes. He said he had never seen a porcelain doll come to life in the body of a stripper, but I had mastered it. I should have left him then.
I felt the cold air on my back as he left the bed. “I need to go back to work.
Thanks for the distraction, babe.”
Babe. I concluded that this term of endearment was a way to ensure the wrong name was never called out…never spoken. Once again, I was reminded Jeremy would never change, and that I needed to protect my heart, as well as my
future.
The plan was in place. I would hit Jeremy where it hurt. It had taken patience
and cunning, but now, I would be the snake in the grass waiting to strike.
Fourteen hours, forty-two minutes.
Then, you’re free.
A single tear streamed down my cheek. That’ll be the last tear you shed for
any man, I scolded myself as I drifted off to sleep.
Daddy’s Girl
Two
How did I let myself accept the life Jeremy offered? Looking back,
there were so many things I could pinpoint as the building blocks
that made me the woman I am. However, none of it mattered. I chose
to wear the blinders during the beginning of our relationship. Even if I wanted to go back and make a different choice, I couldn’t.
When I was young, I was strong and fiery. I thought the world was mine to
grab and take hold of, but that feeling of strength died slowly. The first blow came when I was seventeen years old and my father died.
Gregory Chase was not only a prestigious pediatric surgeon but an amazing
man. Anyone you asked about my father would say, “he was the perfect man.”
He was so handsome that he was frequently told he should model. Besides his appearance, he was acknowledged as being the ideal husband and father. He doted on Mother and me, providing us with a dream lifestyle.
His love – for us and for the children he saved – drove him. His long hours
away were accepted as we basked in the rewards from it. A fine home, all the creature comforts one dreams of, and fabulous vacations.
My mother, Hillary Chase, was the cookie cutter, stay-at-home wife. She was
beautiful, refined, and the envy of the other mothers. I was proud of my family.
When I was a little girl, I watched my mother put on her makeup, and I remember vowing to be as beautiful as her. If I was, I could have my own loving
husband and children. However, unlike my mother, I would have a career.
I was raised with the idea of having it all. Nothing would stop me. I would be
able to achieve my dreams. The man I married would be just like my father, who had been a superhero in my eyes. To me, my father was invincible. And then, it
all changed.
A mighty deity reached down from the heavens and said, “You’re having too
