Page 59 of Saving Grace

He dropped my hand and walked out of the alley alone.

Nerves fluttered in my belly. What in the hell was I going to do if I got pregnant? Before I could really dwell on the answer my phone rang. Without thought I pulled it from the pocket of the deconstructed Bermuda shorts I was wearing and answered.

“Hello?”

“We need to talk. Tomorrow.” The sound of Roman senior’s voice came through loud and clear.

My grip on the phone tightened until my hand ached.

“Why?” I asked, not bothering to hide my annoyance.

Nothing, no response. I pulled the phone away from my face to look at it. He'd hung up.

Without thought I cocked my arm back and let the phone fly. I heard the screen cracked as it crashed to ground. For a moment I just stared at it. Realizing my mistake, I’d have to explain to Atticus what happened, but then I looked up and he was standing, watching me. His face blank.

Grace

Dealing with all that was unfolding around me had me stressed. I closed my eyes and inhaled deeply.

Trembling fingers curled around the stem of the wineglass in my grip. I brought it to my lips wishing for something stronger.

When I opened my eyes again. I found Atticus’ grandfather watching me. He kept giving me knowing looks from across the long table in the formal dining room. He knew I was on the edge after our conversation. He had cornered me outside my room, just before I’d come downstairs. It was as if he came out of nowhere. I gasped when I was snatched up and then shoved against the wall opposite of my temporary room. I assumed it was Atticus. The anger that overtook me when I came face to face with the older man boiled my blood. I hadn’t been subjected to physically seeing him since the day he forced his dick in my mouth and then suddenly I could remember the smell and taste of him, my stomach roiled. I balled my fist at my side. My long nails biting into the skin.

Someone clearing their throat was the only reason I didn’t hit the old man. I’d swung my head in the direction of the sound. I was met with an icy and intimidating gaze. The guy who had been there all those years ago was about twenty feet away, leaning with his back against the wall. He shook his head.

I fought off a shiver and unclenched my fist.

He chuckled and nodded in my direction.

I gave my attention back to the patriarch of Atticus’ family.

I studied his face, age had finally caught up with him. His hair was no longer smoky grey, his eyes no longer vibrant, now milky and blood flecked, the sides covered in crow’s feet, his skin sagged. He even smelled old. That gave me small amount of joy, knowing the grim reaper was at his heels. I’d have to remember to visit his grave and piss on it like I’d done my mother’s husband once he was dead.

His words, “You have to leave" kept playing on a loop in my head. He said I was causing too much trouble.

Atticus wasn’t dutiful anymore.

Sophia wasn’t happy anymore and was complaining to her brothers. They were threatening to act against Atticus for the disrespect of bringing me into her house. Everybody would find out eventually. They didn’t want to look weak.

He wanted me to go and I wanted to go. I was listening until he said he wanted me to leave AJ.

“I can’t have my grandson leaving his real family to scour the world looking for his bastard and we can’t afford dissent amongst those in it or close to us because of you. You can leave the maid behind to take care of him,” he said referring to Ms. Joyce.

Not another word was spoken after that because nothing else was needed to be said. There was no way I was leaving my son with them. I was now sure that he was responsible for how Atticus’ father was. He’d turned his own son into a monster. He’d broken Atticus. He would not ruin my child.

What a shitty bloodline my son had been born into. I prayed that one day he wouldn’t make a change for the worse and become like them.

The Stephanie coming down the hall interrupting us put an end to the conversation all together. She squeezed in between the old man and I, giving me a knowing look.

“Mr. Roman is awaiting you downstairs.” There was an authority in her voice that made me take notice to the fact there was no fear in her pretty brown eyes. She and Tank were the only staff that never looked worried or scared. I started to wonder again if she was a maid at all. When she took my forearm and maneuvered us past the old man and his guard without looking back, I knew she wasn’t. She escorted me to the dining room door but disappeared before I could ask her anything.

“Whatever she picks is fine. I don’t care.” Atticus barked, bringing me out of my musings.

I cut my eyes up to Sophia, you could visibly see the hurt and embarrassment on her face.

I mentally shook my head.

I couldn’t believe the bold and blatant disregard Atticus showed for his marriage. But then, the longer I was around the more I understood why. His wife was more worried about how the public saw them than actually being a wife or a mother.