Page 19 of Eternal

Freya

Thecarpullsupto the apartment building, snapping me out of my thoughts. Soren exits and opens my door, offering a helping hand to get out. His driver stays in place as he walks me to my door. There’s another blanket of silence that comforts both of us. It doesn’t seem like Soren is the talkative type, which is fine by me. I prefer to cut out the small talk bullshit. While in the elevator, I stare at the business card Larry gave me, and Soren watches me from the corner of his eye. What is the purpose of giving this to me anyway?

Opening my apartment door, I turn to him to say my goodbyes.

“Well, aren’t we going in?” Soren asks with that goddamn smile on his face again.

Shock and apprehension overtake my body. He’s coming in too, but not staying the night? What’s going to happen when he crosses this threshold? Just the two of us for the rest of the night. There’s a lot that can happen. Surely he’d be respectful of my personal space and not push it.

But maybe I want those things to happen tonight.

I open the door further, and he follows me in, softly clicking the door shut. I start kicking my heels off in the foyer.

I make my way to the kitchen.

“Would you like a drink?” I call over my shoulder.

Soren appears around the corner, and when he’s back in the same room as me, my body feels like it’s come alive again. I relish the feeling but try to suppress it. We are never going to be in a happy relationship. That fate was stolen from us the moment our engagement was forced. The spark between us is hard to deny, though. He must see the same thing.

“Please,” He replies softly, looking around and taking everything in again.

I pour us two glasses of wine. He graciously accepts it, then leads us back to the living room. He throws his blazer over the armchair, along with his tie. He’s left in all black, with his shirt hugging all his muscles deliciously. I try not to stare, but damn does he make it difficult.

I set my wine glass on the coffee table and trek back to my bedroom. I hear the TV turn on in the other room, and I begin to remove my dress. I’ll have to remember to take it to the dry cleaners later. I stand in front of my mirror, with only my underwear and unbelievably expensive jewelry on. I admire the fine craftsmanship of the necklace first. It sparkles at every angle I stand. It’s symbolic of our relationship, though. I’ve had to vow to my family that I would be his and his alone. But a part of me likes what he suggested. Ownership of my body, yet I am still in control of my mind and soul. Not that there’s much light left in my ever-darkening soul. Perhaps that’s what I needed though. Maybe I needed Soren in my life to teach me the acceptance of my darker sides. Who knows. Only time will tell. My hand runs over it, still taking it in. For the first time, I feel a little more confident. I look at myself in the mirror, stuck in my little world, admiring every curve, faded stretch mark, and little dimples of cellulite that scatter across my thighs.

That’s stolen away from me when I realize there’s a looming figure standing in the doorway. Soren's arms are crossed across his chest, and he has a look of admiration in his eyes.

My eyes widen, and I try to cover myself up the best I can. The little world I was living in lies in ashes at my feet, leaving me with an impenetrable wall between us.

“What the fuck are you doing, Soren?” I bristle.

I’m pissed blind. His invasion of privacy and the look in his eyes haunt me. Nearly hurling me into a panic attack. One simple look from him slams me back to the reality that something might transpire that I wouldn’t want to happen.

Soren cocks his head to the side and smirks, “I’m just taking in my future wife. You’re so breathtaking. An angel from Heaven.”

He stays in the same position without moving a muscle. It loosens the knot forming in my stomach only slightly.

I stay in the same spot as well, covering my breasts. I’m not ready to bare myself entirely to him yet. There’s too much of a reminder of Tristan when I bare it all. I swallow a lump forming in my throat. A flash of hurt crosses my face, and every thought of potentially sleeping with him fades. I am not ready for this. Soren notices and clears his throat.

“I’m sorry I intruded, Freya.” He walks down the hall back to the living room.

I blink a few times, my mind wrapping around what just transpired. He went from loving to cold in a couple of moments.

Maybe I made him mad?

It was my fault that he even had the opportunity to look at me. I was the one who left the door open; it was basically an invitation for him to come in. I take off the jewelry that now feels like it's choking me, reminding me who owns me. I take a few deep breaths after breaking the confines of it. My mind is still racing.

Everything will be fine.

I return to the living room wearing sweatpants and an old t-shirt from my college. I hold a larger shirt and a pair of sweatpants to Soren like it’s a peace offering.

“I found a pair of sweatpants and a shirt that should fit you. If- if you want to stay and get comfier.” I offer a small, shy smile, pretending he didn’t just see me naked.

“Thank you, are these from your previous lovers?” He jokes.

I shake my head, “The shirt is mine, and the sweatpants are from an ex-boyfriend of Serena’s from a few years ago.”

Soren offers a small smile, too, and looks at me like he wants to apologize for the discomfort he caused. I would shrug it off anyway. It’s partially my fault for not talking to my therapist about trauma from daddy issues to living with Tristan for all those years. I am not going to take that on right now.

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