Christina (Daughters #1) (32 page)
Read Christina (Daughters #1) Online
Authors: Leanne Davis
Still, the shock hasn’t totally set in. I can’t even fully comprehend what happened. I can’t process it.
Sam is cheating on me.
There he was, lodged between a blond girl’s legs. He was pushing himself into her. His face was intense, scowling, and hard. He was so mean-looking, I didn’t recognize him, even before he realized I was standing there. It was close to ten seconds before he sensed my presence. Just seconds. They might as well have been ten hydrogen bombs going off. Ten seconds that lasted forever.
The woman’s back was toward me. She was half reclining, providing better access for my husband’s deep thrusts. Her body shook with his movements. She moaned, wrapping her legs around him. I couldn’t see his dick, thank God, or that…. that might have ended me forever! But I saw him moving inside her. That was enough.
Then his face lifted just a fraction of an inch as his eyes darted toward the door. Toward where I was standing. His eyes met mine, and in that second, our entire history flashed through my head. And all I could do was stand there, numb, finding it hard to believe I was actually witnessing that. No. Never. Not Sam.
But it was Sam.
I shut my brain down. No. Not now. I’ll face this later. So much later. I am too frantic now. I run across the parking garage after exiting the elevator. I scramble into my car and tear out of there. I arrive at our house and unlock the front entry, but stand there for a second. The silence makes me remember. Sam left his signature when he decorated it. He made sure after we moved in to have the floors redone and kitchen updated. He insisted we have it all color-coded and upscale, to match his prospective career, and the ideal and image he foresaw himself embracing.
I stand here now, realizing the only thing in Sam’s life that never lived up to what he foresaw, is me. I never could fit into what he wants. The power, prestige, and the image he wants to attain demanded perfection. He wants to belong to a class of people I don’t even like. He wants to be
someone
. Someone important, influential and sought after. He wants senators and judges and rich CEOs to call his friends and peers. He wants respect. The kind of respect that my adulation and love cannot provide for him.
He wants this home to reflect those ideals. I never really cared. I simply viewed it as a nice place to live. I don’t get his perfectionist ways, but I let him pursue them. I thought I was letting him be the man he needed to be. Turns out, that just kept my personality from being reflected in the house.
I must represent failure to Sam, since he could not turn me into his idea of perfection. His working class wife,
the cop
. I wear a uniform and don’t intend to ever change that. I don’t have a bunch of kids at home to take care of, or a prestigious career instead of having kids at home. He wants kids. That is part of being his ideal wife. He never fully admitted it, but I know that’s what Sam always envisioned having in his life.
I was never what he planned or dreamed of. I think I always knew that. I couldn’t fit into his life, so perhaps, we would have ended up here no matter what.
I feel cold now. All my tears have dried. I have no more words. My tongue feels thick in my mouth, and I cannot articulate anything, even if the need arises. I start moving through our house, but I don’t feel any attachment to it. I grab the baseball mitt displayed on the mantel. It was my grandpa’s. I grab some photos. I dig out my suitcase from the spare room closet and start filling it with my bland undergarments and clothes. Jeans. Sweats. T-shirts. Sweatshirts. A few blouses and stylish shirts and jackets. I also grab sneakers and flats and some coats. I can’t think of what I need. I quickly strip from my uniform and grab a pair of jeans to wear. I’m slipping a t-shirt over my head when I suddenly stop and stare around.
Where the fuck am I going?
I don’t know. But staying here is not an option. It feels too much like Sam. All of it feels like nothing but Sam to me now.
Seeing my parents isn’t an option either. Mom died a few years ago and Dad is in a nursing home. He doesn’t remember me anymore. He’s got dementia. I visit him every week, but if I didn’t? He wouldn’t even know. So I can’t run to him.
There are a few friends, but all of them know Sam. They are all
our
friends. Everyone knows Sam who knows me. There is no one else to go to.
There is no real family for me. Just Sam’s family. The Fords adopted me as their honorary daughter since the time I was five years old and first met them. That was when I first met Sam.
No. I clamp down on that thought. No reminiscing. No thinking about poor, little Sam, or poor, little me. No thinking about what I lost today. No thinking. Just moving on. Leaving. Running.
I sit on the bed and wrap my arms around my chest. I have to get out of here. Sam will come back and beg and plead and be sorry. Or he’ll tell me he’s in love with that woman, and didn’t know how to tell me. I don’t know which scenario is worse for me. But I do know I can’t handle either one. I can’t hear either excuse coming from Sam’s lips.
I stand up and grab my suitcase and purse. I haul it all to my car before roaring down the street.
Wait.
There is… family
. A distant family. I don’t even know them. But a girl came looking for me last year who fully believed she was my sister. I have no sisters. No brothers. I have no one left. Now that Sam’s out of the picture, I have no one. I have never felt so lonely or vulnerable in my life.
But there is a family, albeit, complete strangers to me, but we might be biologically related.
Christina Hendricks. That was her name. The girl was all of eighteen when she first found me. But I had to give it to her; it was a ballsy move, coming after me on her own, without her mom.
Sister.
I never allowed myself to wonder about that. Or even think about her again. She said there were two more. Meaning, I might have
three
sisters?
What could that possibly change for me? I don’t know. I just need somewhere to go. And maybe something to do. Something to think about that isn’t related to Sam. That doesn’t involve my husband and that woman screwing him on top of his desk.
No. I won’t think about that anymore.
I turn my car around and start across the Golden Gate Bridge North. I’m heading towards Seattle, Washington State. I have no idea where in Washington state though.
Ellensburg.
I think that was the name of the city Christina mentioned. Is that right? I hope so. I hope that was the name. Christina said it to me in a rush, when she invited me to come see her. That’s all I have to go on. A place and a last name. I hope to God something comes of it. I have no idea what I’m going to do. Should I go there? I don’t know. At least, it’s far away from here. And even further away from my heart, my wrecked life, and my lost love. It’s a good distance from Sam Ford.
I just know I can’t be here now. Maybe I can’t ever come back here again.
If you would like to keep reading stay tuned to my
website
for a release date of
Natalie.
Melissa (Daughters, #3)
I’m pretty sure I’m adopted, no matter how many times my parents claim otherwise. My sisters are smart, successful and athletic. Me? Not so much. I can’t concentrate; and I can’t perform well in school or on a job. I’m pretty sure I’m not even all that smart. I really don’t know exactly what is wrong with me, but something definitely is. Everything is unsettled inside my head while all my sisters seem to have everything all figured out.
I’m convinced I’m the black sheep of the family.
Seth Gifford, on the other hand, is quiet and bookish, the complete opposite of me. The son of my mom’s best friend, he is staying with us while attending college here. That means he lives with me. He’s well-liked by everyone except me. Trapped in close proximity, I start to see him in a new light and eventually begin to care about what he thinks of my crazy ways. Until then, however, no one’s opinion can influence me. Maybe, just maybe, I finally want to impress someone. But now I can only wonder how to make him see me. I’ve always suspected the tragedy of my life is: there really isn’t anything of value inside me.
Emily (Daughters, #4)
My mom’s life was riddled in pain that spilled over to my sisters and me. The pain of my mother’s life still affects me, despite all her attempts to conceal it. I love her. I admire her. I want to understand her. But mostly, I want justice for her. Even though she tells me she’s okay, and I need to let it go, I can’t.
Let it go? How can I let it go, knowing such horror and evil still exist in the world?
But what can I do? Having barely graduated college with a journalism major, I know how to tell other people’s stories, but the one I want to tell most of all is my mother’s. I have nothing to go on and even less information. The more I inquire about it, the less she’s willing to share. My parents would lock me in my room if they suspected what I want to do. But even that won’t stop me. Not if I can find a way. And then I meet Ramiro Vasquez, and learn some of his secrets, secrets that bind his family to mine. Sometimes, the past is not really dead. Sometimes, it can still destroy you and the ones you love most.
River’s End Series:
The Rydell River Ranch is a large horse training, boarding and breeding operation, owned and operated by four brothers who are left in charge of their century old legacy in the small, rural town of River’s End.
