Page 44 of Saving Grace

“Now get the fuck out of my face.” I gave her my back. I heard her heels clicking frantically as she immediately left the room, a lot quieter than she had come.

Squeezing my eyes shut I pressed my head back against the cool wall in an attempt calm myself enough so I didn’t call Sophia back and choke her.

Couldn’t she see I was holding on by a fucking thread. I was so close to saying fuck it all and killing everybody who knew me as Roman. Had been for years. Something was going to have to give or everybody I now hated was going to have to die.

I dropped my head and forced myself to take deep breath. The door to the room banged open. I kept my head down, assuming Sophia had come back. “I will hur- “’

Tank spoke, making me swallow my threat. “Grace is awake and she’s asking for AJ.”

Grace

Something wasn’t right. When I was released from the hospital, Atticus had forced me to leave Michigan and come to Florida. After I got here, I hadn’t heard from him.

For weeks, he had me holed up in a luxury apartment and was limiting my contact with everyone. Even my son. Atticus hadn’t let me see him since the day I’d woke up from the accident.

After arriving in Florida, I thought I'd be taken to see him. But no.

No visitation, no phone calls, nothing.

The initial guilt I felt over keeping his son away from him had kept me quiet.

AJ needed to spend time with his father and to get to know his sister and the other side of his family. No matter how fucked up they were, because as soon as I got better we were leaving again.

When Tank came by to do his daily check I requested a visit with Atticus. He looked uneasy about being asked and claimed that Atticus was a busy man. It was bullshit. He was putting me off for some reason. I planned to give him another day or so before I started showing my ass.

In the end I didn’t have to do anything. A car came for me the next morning. Tank called just before the driver knocked and told me to get dressed. It was cool outside but being anxious to see my son I didn’t take time to find appropriate clothing. I opted for a black ankle length body con two- piece skirt set that clung to my thick frame. I threw a red zippered hoodie over it and slid my feet into a pair of black Converse.

We drove about an hour out of Clearwater Florida across the Skyway bridge in silence. The driver grunted at most when I questioned him so I stopped questioning him. I watched the blur of light as we whizzed through the city, then watched the trees lining the highway as drove further into the countryside.

The house we pulled into was gorgeous. I rolled down the window to gawk at the 1920’s red brick Mediterranean style mansion. It occupied at least two hundred acres of land. I could smell swamp water and fish. And knew they had chosen the location for a reason. It made me uneasy. Nobody could hear you scream and it wouldn’t be easy to run.

I reconsidered meeting Atticus there. But my need to see my son outweighed my fear.

The driver opened my door. Atticus opened the house door before my feet were even out of the car, as if he’d been waiting for me.

I sighed. The scowl he had on his face the first and last time I’d seen him in the hospital was still firmly in place.

When I made my way all the way up what felt like a hundred steps he spoke, his tone even. “I see you've recovered well.”

I nodded. Too nervous to formulate words.

He held the door for me. “Follow me to my office, we can talk in there.”

I followed behind him, in awe of how huge his house was. Atticus had come a long way since his days in the trailer. I was low key proud of him. Even if he'd gotten all his success through illegal channels. It wasn’t a life I’d wish for him, but it seemed to be the life he managed to thrive in.

He led me up two flights of stairs and halfway across the house in silence. When we arrived at his office, he moved to the side and allowed me to enter first. Just as he was about to close his office door, his wife’s head popped in, “Hey baby, you want a late lunch or—"she stopped mid-sentence when she noticed me standing there. A look of disgust morphed her pretty face. I didn’t like the way she was looking at me. I smiled big as I spoke to her in a sugary fake tone, “Hi Mrs. Roman, nice seeing you again. Thank you for welcoming me into your humble abode.”

We both heard Atticus snigger.

Ignoring me completely, she focused her attention on Atticus. “What is she doing in my house, Roman?”

Atticus scoffed. “This is my house and that is none of your business,” he said before slamming the door in her face.

I waited for it to slam back open. There was no way in this world or the next — that my husband would talk to me treat that, let alone slam a door in my face.

“Disrespectful ass.” I mumbled under my breath.

“What was that?” He turned his dark stare on me, daring me to repeat myself.

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