Page 19 of Sugar Pie
His tone made my blood run cold. I’d never been anything but arm candy to him. “Romeo, I’m serious this time. I’ve hired a lawyer. I’m done.”
“You’re just off your medication, but we can fix that right away.” He sounded annoyed.
I was also done with being drugged to keep me compliant. I started to argue, but the hospital paged him. I breathed easier because he wasn’t anywhere near me if he was on call. I glanced up at the building. “I don’t want to be your wife anymore. I want a life you can’t give me.”
“I won’t be the first in my family to be divorced.”
“Not my problem.” For the first time since I tried to leave him before, I had the power, and I wasn’t giving it back. “Welcome to the twenty-first century. Don’t call me again.”
“Ker—“
I hung up and walked into the building. I headed to the elevator and blocked his number, vowing never to answer an unknown number again.
I made it to apartment 302 and knocked. A woman dressed in all black answered.
“Hi, I’m Kerry. I called earlier. I’m here because of the job.”
She shrugged and started to close the door. “It’s been filled.”
“Oh.” I stepped back. I hadn’t been fast enough.
I walked out, used the building’s Wi-Fi to find a second option, and emailed the client. I refused to give into fear. I needed to support myself.
As I walked, my phone rang. I cringed when I saw my mother’s photo on my screen. “Mom, did you give Romeo access to my phone data?”
She hummed, which was always her tell. “I did. He asked for it so he could find you. I thought you two should speak.”
I shuddered. Luckily, I hadn’t told her anything. “My lawyer is sending him papers for a divorce. Don’t give him any more information.”
“This is more serious. I think I should get you, and we’ll have an intervention.”
I sniffed the air. I needed to breathe. She wasn’t stopping me again. “Absolutely not.”
“But—“
I hung up on her. It wasn’t polite, but I was done being told what to do. I put my phone in my back pocket and headed up the street to another house with a potential client I’d emailed.
I arrived, rang the bell, and waited. A few minutes later, an older man answered.
“Hi. My name’s Kerry. I’m here about the job.”
He rolled his eyes at me. “It’s been filled.”
My eyes widened. “That fast? I emailed half an hour ago.”
He shrugged. “You should have tracked with the app before you knocked on my door.”
I pivoted as he closed the door. But as I walked back to the apartment, I imagined my mother figuring out where I was with the Find My Phone app. I shook my head. “Mom isn’t a techie. I’m fine,” I muttered.
Romeo was, though, and she’d given him access. He knew where I was, and if he wanted to, he would find me. I lifted my chin, refusing to be bullied.
Halfway there, I tossed my phone into the street then watched as a pickup truck ran it over.
I would need to find a new way to communicate, but I would not let them stop me. It was my chance at freedom.
On my way back, I bought milk, dinner, and a few small items for breakfast.
When I got home, I breaded the chicken then added tomato sauce and store-brand cheese. I was missing a few spices, but my breaded chicken didn’t look bad. I hoped it would taste good once I cooked it. I flipped on the oven to bake cookies when the door opened.
