Page 50 of Saving Grace

For a while I just lay in my pity. Sunk into the fluffy white comforter and laid there, trying to not think. It worked for a while. Then my reality became too hard to ignore.

Forcing myself from the bed I headed to the bathroom. It’s a huge gaudy room, all white with gold accents. I knew Atticus had nothing to do with the décor. Probably all his wife, but I didn't even want to begin thinking about her. I shook all thoughts about everything from my head and turned on the shower as hot as it would go.

I soaped my body from head to toe, ignoring the soreness between my thighs as if it would erase what had happened in Atticus office or the fact that he wanted me to have a baby for him. It was too much. I closed my eyes and let the sound of the water hitting tile drown out my thoughts as I finished washing myself.

When I left the bathroom, my bed had been made. I frowned. I’d have to get used to someone invading my privacy in the brief time I planned to be there. Despite what Atticus said. I would be leaving; I’d find a way to get my son and myself out unharmed.

Atticus had said he wasn’t the old him. Well, I wasn’t the old me. I wouldn't be cowed. There was no way he was going to force me into his twisted ass arrangement, for long. He knew me well enough to know that. Which worried me. What obstacle was he about to throw at me?

I felt drained. I’d been fucked over and disappointed by almost every fucking body in my life. I never thought Atticus would join that list.

Pushing my thoughts of the whole mess aside I got dressed. If I kept obsessively thinking about everything I was liable to just lock myself in the room and just cry. I wouldn’t do that. I had to face the world if I wanted to see my son.

Opening the door of my room, startled I jolted back.

“Fuck!” I cursed, “you scared me.”

The pretty middle aged Black woman’s only reaction was to smile a polite smile before speaking. “I’m Stephanie, the maid.”

The maid? She wasn’t like any other maid I ever seen. I could see the muscle in her arm straining against her white blouse.

“I was told to wait for you to show you to the kitchen. Mr. Roman said you never sleep past seven.”

I rolled my eyes but thanked her. Atticus really did think he knew me, though he was right. My granny had trained me to be an early riser.

Stephanie watched me for a second studying my face before pivoting in her combat boots.

A maid in combat boots?

“You’re a very pretty girl,” she complimented,

“Thank you,” I replied. I followed as she began talking about AJ. “He has told me so much about you. He’s precious you know, so helpful and smart as a whip. He and Ms. Joyce are so entertaining. Those two have made the environment around here much more pleasant. And Tori already loves them both.” She said leading me down a set of stairs. Listening to her chatter on about my son and his new family didn’t give me much time to check out the house but what I did see was just as gaudy as my room had been. White everywhere, with lots of gold. So 1990’s drug dealer-ish. Whoever decorated wanted everyone to know they had money.

I could hear AJ’s laughter before we reached the kitchen. I side stepped the maid and walked ahead of her, followed his voice. The closer to the kitchen I got the more emotional I got. I hadn’t been away from my son more than a night since he had been born. The separation was affecting me more than Atticus could ever know. When I reached the kitchen my heart sped up and tears pricked the back of my eyes.

AJ turned as soon as I pushed open the huge double door. He bounded from the chair he’d been sitting in and ran over to me nearly knocking me down.

“Mamma, you’re back.” I lifted him from the floor though I shouldn't have been picking him up at all. My ribs had been bruised in the car accident and weren’t quite mended. They ached, but I held him as long as he would allow me. Which wasn’t long at all. I let him go when he started shoving against my arm.

“Momma, you were about to smother me.” He said when I returned him back to his feet.

“I’m sorry. I just missed you so much.”

He grinned. “I missed you too. Come meet my little sister.” He grabbed my hand.

My heart squeezed at his words. Knowing Atticus had a child with another woman didn’t quite sit right with me.

I shut my eyes to fight back the emotion. When I opened them, all eyes were on me.

Atticus was sitting at one side of an exceptionally long table, decorated with white tablecloths and fresh flowers, his wife sat on the exact opposite end. Everybody was staring back at me with varying emotion displayed on their face, none were pleasant.

Atticus’ wife was the worse. Just from her expression I knew hated me, like really hated me.

Dressed to the nines. A light blue shift dress that made her olive skin look darker was draped over her lithe frame. Her long dark hair was perfectly straightened, not a hair out of place. She was beautiful, even with the severe scowl on her face. I understood why she was mad. She saw me as the competition, but I was not.

I didn’t want to be there anymore than she wanted me to be there. I tried to convey that with me eyes. I don’t need her to pledge her allegiance to me or anything. I just needed her not make my time there worse. She had to know how Atticus was. When her expression grew darker I forced myself to look away. I let my gaze drift around the table

Ms. Joyce, in her eyes I could see she pitied me.