Page 28 of Prince Charming

But this?

The accusation reverberated through her skull, making her soundless scream rush up her throat, threatening to release but for her tightly pressed lips.

To believe she would have anything to do with people like thatwillinglyalmost doubled Marianna over to vomit on the floor.

“Leave.” She said in a broken voice.

“Marianna…”

“I was calling my family. I have two children.” She told him, tears pooling her eyes. The shock was there on his face.Good. “I can’t afford a decent enough phone that will give me unlimited data, so I use the phone at the gym. It was wrong, and I won’t do it again. You can fire me. But don’t ever…do noteveraccuse me of talking to people like that again, Tag.” The louder she became, the more unhinged she felt.

She didn’t know she’d started shaking until she felt Tag take her two arms in his hands. “Darlin’, I’m sorry. I had to ask.”

“Da, you did. You asked, now I want you to go.”

“Fuck, please don’t cry,” he rasped, pulling her closer. It was one of the few times he’d touched her and not this close, not this long.

“It was only my children,” she hiccupped. “I—I have no other way to talk to them. I would n-n-never conspire with thosemonsters. I hate them. I hate them all.”

“Shhh, darlin’. I’m sorry. Please stop crying. Fuck, I didn’t wanna make you cry.”

It was too late.

Marianna’s floodgates she’d held at bay for months, burst open like a dam and she fell apart at the seams. When her knees collapsed out from underneath her, he was there to catch her. “Fuck.” He grated.

Without the strength to fight him when he brought her into his chest, so lonely, she curled into the comfort, crying over her babies at home without her. Unable to understand why she’d left them or how she was desperately trying to get them to her.

She wept for always being alone.

She cried for the imprisoned months where she naively waited for her new life to begin. When all along it had been a horrible lie.

As many times as she’d been hurt, she hadn’t gotten good at hiding it. Proof being the way Tag swept her up in his arms, holding her tight while she dissolved into her own pain.

She should have known when the father of her twins offered her the chance to move to the States he was full of shit.

Marianna lost it, and Tag picked it up.

She wasn’t aware of his words at first, or that he’d moved to the couch. Placing her on his lap, he curled his bigger body around hers.

“Let it out, darlin’. I got you. I’m so fucking sorry I brought it on, but you can let it out now, I won’t let you fall.”

On days when Marianna was tired from working long hours, she dreamed in Technicolor. In those dreams she was once again fourteen years old. With the dazzling hope of being a prima ballerina in her future.

Her father was killed for his gambling habit.

And her dream died.

No money for frivolous things like dance lessons.

It was only in her dreams now she felt anything close to happiness.

Except for him, she realized.

Tag had given her small pockets of contentment.

He held her.

He rocked her.

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