Page 35 of Pen Pal

What the fuck was wrong with me? But I didn’t care. I’d had so little joy in my life that I decided to embrace what I got. He was the last tether I had tied to my past, a happy time before I married Mark. It was the closest I would get to getting that time back, and I didn’t want to let it go.

Enzo’s arraignment for his escape would be soon, and I had to be there. So I focused as hard as I could on work, preparing everything for the court date. I knew they wouldn’t give him bail, so I knew not to ask for that.

We had a legal visit before the court date, too.

The court date was in two days, and our visit was tomorrow.

So I worked as fast as possible until I heard another knock at my door.

Once again, it was my boss.

“You’re going to bankrupt me if you keep working this much overtime,” she teased. “Go home now, Mrs. Branson.”

I nodded as I gathered my things.

“Gotta ask you something, though,” she began. “You get some of your mail under the last name Branson, but your diploma says Roberts. Care to explain?”

“I’m married, and his last name is Branson,” I replied, stepping out of my office and closing the door behind me. “But I’m going through a divorce anyway, so I’ll be Ms. Roberts again soon enough.”

“Oh, okay. Sorry to hear about the divorce,” Marta replied.

“Don’t be; he was a cheating, abusive bastard,” I admitted. It felt good to say it out loud after years of hiding it.

“Well, in that case, congratulations,” she smiled. “Let me know if you want our divorce lawyer on the case for you; make it happen faster.”

“Is he a shark?” I wondered.

“I only hire sharks,” she winked, ushering me out of the building.

“I’ll grab his card before I go to my law visit tomorrow,” I agreed.

Then I started the walk home, dropping my letter in the mailon the way there.

I went home, locking the door behind me. It was almost sad that Enzo hadn’t followed me home this time. But if his letter was any indication, he was firmly behind bars again. I wondered if he would break out again as I fixed myself a quick dinner and began my nightly routine.

My phone rang, and I reached for it, wondering if it would be Enzo.

“Hi,” my social worker chirped. “I need to schedule our next appointment. How’s next week?”

“I’m working pretty long hours. It’ll be hard to reach me,” I admitted. “It would have to be during lunch hour or something.”

I hurriedly scrawled in my agenda, noting that we’d meet each other at noon next week. It wasn’t ideal for either of us, but lawyers could easily work sixty-hour work weeks, and I had no other guaranteed free time during her office hours.

I snapped the agenda shut as I turned to my window, looking at the flickering street lights and the rain. It pitter-pattered outside, picking up speed and intensity, like my heart.

Tomorrow, I’d see Enzo again.

A hot pang of longing curled in my belly, and I took a deep breath as I closed my eyes, leaning forward against the cool marble counter. I bit my lip as I imagined Enzo here with me, pushing up my skirtand having his way with me, pressing my face against the cold counter.

I dragged my fingers along the surface, my body coming alive with thoughts of him. My feet brought me up the stairs to my bedroom of their own accord, my blood buzzing with anticipation.

Pulled along by something intense and beyond common sense, the closet door slid open, and the black knit dress hanging in the back caught my eye. It was modest enough for the prison guards to let me in without issue, but it was tight enough for Enzo to take notice. I wondered if his eyes would darken, knowing I picked something out just for him.

I dragged my fingers along the fabric, soft to the touch, wondering where Enzo would grip the dress. Would he tear it off me, lift the hem gently, or feel it to ground him, reassure him that I was, in fact, there; solid, real, and not only a dream behind those four concrete walls.

I swallowed hard, heat like a live wire zinging beneath my skin. Would he lay me on the table, mouth bruising and possessive? Or would he push me against the wall, hand tangling in my hair, telling me all the naughty things he wanted to do to me?

I trembled, stepping away, restless at the thoughts he elicited in my mind. My fingers shook as I peeled my clothes off my body andwent for a shower.

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