Just A Woman (The Porter Trilogy Book 2) (3 page)

It’s been thirteen heart wrenching days since I spliced my soul into two pieces, taking one with me and leaving one with the man who completes me. (WOW! Talk about a flair for drama. Maybe I should be a writer. Future career, here I come).

No, but seriously, in all honesty, the last thirteen days have been utter agony. I feel like some magnet for betrayal. First, from a girl I thought was my friend and then ‘him’. I can’t call him by his name. I just refer to him as ‘him’. It hurts too much to think about him. My best friend likes to call him other names, and before I may have laughed, but right now, I can’t laugh. I don’t have the strength in me. And nothing really feels funny at the moment. I’ve never really experienced heartbreak before, and I’m not being dramatic when I say, it’s excruciating.

I don’t know if I’m ready to divulge the entire encounter of my life or exactly why I am the way that I am, but I will say this. Eight years ago, I was attacked, raped and left for dead, and my unborn baby, conceived of rape, was figuratively ripped from my womb by the same man that put him there. I spent eight years trying to patch the hole in my soul. It didn’t work. I was broken for a very long time. Sure, I laughed and seemed normal, but inside, I was a shell.

Until the day I had a job interview with ‘him’. I couldn’t stand him at first. He was an arrogant, pompous jackass, but I could never deny the electricity between us. Anytime he was near, my heart palpitated and my hands were clammy. After such a short time, he started stitching me back together. I fell hard for him. I fell hard and fast. That was probably my first mistake. I shouldn’t have let him in, but I did, and for a short time, my life felt whole. 

But then, I found out he had delivered the ultimate betrayal and he crushed my world. Thirteen days ago, the hole within me ripped wide open, raw and bloody, and threatened to tear me apart. Thirteen days ago, I died a little more inside. I never thought I would experience something worse than the shit I dealt with in the past, but I was so wrong. Getting your heart broken is worse than anything that can happen to your body. This damages your mind and your spirit and your emotional wellbeing.

Tomorrow would be two full weeks living in this hell, but tomorrow will be the last day I grieve. Tomorrow will be the last day I live in this hole of mine. I will dig myself out and find myself. I may need a goddamn ladder, but I refuse to fall. If not for me, then for my family. I can’t live in this hell anymore. I need to start feeling again, and I need to move on. It may be with only half a heart and without the ability to fall in love again, but it’s what I need to do, and, before anyone chimes in, I have no desire to fall in love again; I don’t care how young I am. This is not something I will ever bounce back from.

I may have found my soulmate, and loved him more than words, and he may have hurt me more, emotionally, than anyone ever had or ever could, but I refuse to let that define me. At least I had the privilege of giving out my heart and getting someone else’s in return.  I’m Charlie, I’m a fighter, and I am strong. I don’t know what will become of me and him, but I can’t focus on that. I’m focusing on me, and THAT Doc, is what I’m feeling! I’m sure you’ll want to talk about this when I see you in a few days. Be prepared, I’m ready to spill. (You’re right, this felt good!)

Alex

Well, it’s official. I’m an asshole. After what I’d just read, I couldn’t even stomach looking at myself in the mirror, and although I didn’t consider myself vain, I knew I brought some good looks to the table. She was in so much pain and it was all because of me, my past, and my stupid omission. All because I was a coward and couldn’t tell her what I knew. I dropped my head into my hands and tugged on my unruly dark hair. It hurt to think she couldn’t even call me by my name. A name she had said and screamed out in love and in absolute ecstasy. She had to refer to me as ‘him,’ but at the same time, no matter how much I was hurting, I was incredibly proud of her.

She had been through so much, even prior to meeting me, and yet here she was, dealing with the “Ultimate Betrayal” and still holding her head high with dignity and grace. She was completely right, she was a fighter and she was strong. A lot stronger than I was, or ever would be. I admired her so much and my heart thumped faster and stronger for her. It was strange to think about my heart as anything more than a beating organ, pumping blood throughout my body, but ever since Charlotte walked into my life, I thought about my life force with more clarity and much more fondness. It beat for her.

I also knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that if I was to ever get her back and stop my own heart from shattering, I needed to move quickly. Not that I thought she would stop loving me, or I her, within a specific time frame, but I couldn’t let her move into the acceptance phase of loss, because then I would fucking lose her. She was strong enough to move on, but I wasn’t. Every minute of every day I loved this woman more, and I could never go back to the lonely life I had been living. The anger within me would eventually explode to epic proportions without her love healing me and putting me back together. I needed Charlotte. She was the only one who could fix me, and I needed to help fix her. We were two broken pieces of the same puzzle, begging to be put back together, and just like a puzzle, once the picture was complete; it was beautiful, even with the crevices clearly outlined.

I also knew that she still loved me. She called me her soul mate. If you had asked me two months ago about soul mates, I would have bitterly laughed at you and called you a fool, while simultaneously crawling into the bed of whatever willing woman was on the agenda for the night. Now, I didn’t feel that way, at all. Charlotte was my soul mate, and my heart knew it before my brain did. My body knew it as well, sparking to life anytime I felt her presence. She was my light. 

I stood up and paced the floor of my office in front of my desk, moving swiftly, hoping that the faster I moved, the more rapidly the ideas would formulate in my head. I needed to find a way to earn her trust back and bring her back into my life. I had to find a way to connect with her, to make her listen to me, to fall to my knees and beg her. I wasn’t one to beg, to anyone, but I would for her, I’d do anything for her.

I’d already been shot down by her ignoring my incessant calls and texts, and a face to face encounter at her house wasn’t working either with Danny and Jerry to protect her. I needed to find a way to isolate her in a public setting where she couldn’t keep a locked door between us, but with her living an hour and a half away, the likelihood of a chance encounter at Starbucks or the dry cleaners was an improbability. There was no reason for me to leave Los Angeles to travel two counties over for coffee that I could get two blocks from my apartment. 

I stopped pacing and walked over to the windows, letting the sun momentarily blind me. I wondered if I could see her apartment from here. I knew it was impossible. Southern California was famous for thick gray smog that hovered at almost all points throughout the day, but that didn’t stop me from gazing in the direction of the Inland Empire, searching for the other part of my soul. I sighed, as a rogue thought flitted through my subconscious,
I’ve got it bad
. With a rush of determination, I returned to my desk, picking up the printed blog post and plotting a way back into Charlotte’s life and back into her heart.

**********

A full week later and I was still lost as to how to approach Charlotte. After the initial blog post, I hadn’t heard anything about her and I was starting to drive myself crazy for any scrap of news again. Bracks had no new information from the team he had scouring the internet. No Facebook status, no logging into Netflix, and she hadn’t responded to any emails she had received. I felt like a stalker, but I couldn’t help it, and honestly I was starting to get angry. I wished I could blame my anger on her, and I guess, in some ways, I did blame her for her lack of communication, but in truth, I was to blame. I had hurt her deeply with my omission of truth, but all I wanted was a conversation with her. Just a small fix to calm me. Jesus, I sounded like a crack addict.

I sighed, willed my emotions to relax, and my anger to cool. This empty feeling was not something I was used to and I didn’t like it one bit. In fact, I hated it as much as I hated Robert. I needed to regain control of my life and my temper. Last night I had even considered fishing out my little black book and calling a willing female, but my heart flat out refused to listen to my brain, not that my cock would have complied anyway. The thought of any other female made my stomach churn. I only wanted Charlotte and the thought made me shiver. What if she never took me back? No, I refused to even let that be an option. 

The evening resulted in me spilling into my own hand in the shower like a virgin teenager. I had come, but it had felt hollow and worthless. It hadn’t even felt physically good, which was surprising since it had been over three weeks since my cock had seen any action. I hated that, without Charlotte, I couldn’t even use sex as a release. Something I had loved before was empty without her now. I really needed to convince her that I was a good person and worthy of her before I went crazy, or my balls exploded.

Shortly before lunch, Bracks came with news of Charlotte. I felt my chest expand and my eyes widen with hope, and with fear, when he walked into my office. He looked as if he had news to share, but wasn’t sure how I would take it. My heart constricted, thinking that maybe she had posted something about moving on, or finding someone new. I wouldn’t survive if she started dating again, so soon after me.

“Bracks, what is it?” I deadpanned, needing to know before my heart exploded in my chest.

“It’s Charlotte,” he said, clutching a piece of paper in his hands. “She had a job interview today.”

I sat back in my chair and let out my held breath. Okay, that wasn’t terrible news. She would obviously need a job to keep paying for life. That wasn’t a big deal, although I would have loved to be able to take care of her forever. She was too strong for that though, too independent, even if we ever did make it as a couple.  But when I looked back up into Brack’s eyes, I knew there was more. I narrowed my eyes at him, waiting for him to spit out the other portion of what he came to say.

“The interview was with Mansfield Management,” he stated, waiting for my response, brave enough to stand up to me, even though he knew I was going to blow my top at this bit of information.

“What the fuck?” I screamed, spinning around in my chair, away from Bracks.

Why in the hell would she be interviewing at Mansfield Management? Was it with Rachel, or someone else in the company? No, it had to have been too much of a coincidence for it not to be Rachel. I rocked back around and forward in my seat and punched the intercom button.

“Mr. Porter?” Brigitte asked shyly.

“Get me Rachel Mansfield on the phone, NOW!” I shouted, before clicking off the intercom. My anger was rising in insurmountable leaps and bounds. I needed to calm myself if I were to have this conversation. Rachel didn’t tolerate my temper in the past and she wouldn’t now. I closed my eyes, took a few deep breaths, and counted to ten. When I opened my eyes, I felt a little better, my ire rescinding enough for the upcoming conversation.

A few seconds later my phone rang, and, none too patiently, I answered.

“Rachel!” I grounded out, trying desperately to control my rage.

“Alex, what’s the matter? You rarely call me at work.” She sounded like she knew exactly why I was calling her, which made me angrier.

I tamped down the boiling in my blood. “Why did Charlotte have an interview with M.M., Rachel?” I asked through gritted teeth. If I wanted a straight answer, I needed to calm myself down. She wouldn’t respond to threats or yelling.

“First and foremost, Alex, I do not appreciate the hostility in your voice,” she said, her voice laced with warning. One that I would be smart to heed.

I took a few calming breaths again and addressed her as sincerely as I was able. “I apologize, Rachel. I didn’t mean to get so angry, but please, I need to know why.”

She sighed before finally responding, “I need a PA like her, Alex. She’s very smart and highly capable. When Karen retired last month, I started looking for a replacement. Her resume came up in my search engine so I reached out. It took a full week before she would even contact me back.” She sighed again, “Can we talk about this face to face? Let’s get lunch.”

“Sure, where?” I asked, needing more of Charlotte conversation.

“The deli’s fine, I’ll meet you there in fifteen minutes, Alex.”

“Ok.” I said, nerves racking my body.

**********

Fifteen minutes later, I sat outside on the patio, in the corner, waiting for Rachel to arrive. The sun was out and it was a beautiful summer day, but I couldn’t even fucking enjoy it. It felt as if all the color in the world had disappeared and the only thing I was left with was black, gray, and emerald green. It was almost like a terrible version of The Wizard of Oz, and somehow I was the Scarecrow, The Tin Man, and that stupid Lion all rolled up into one. 

I watched as Rachel rounded the corner from the parking lot. Rachel was thin and, despite her age, very attractive. With her short brown hair and curvy hips, she walked with her head held high, confident and in charge. Today she wore a black pencil skirt to her knees, black stockings and heels, and a sheer lavender silk sleeveless shirt. Rachel never wore much makeup, just the bare minimum, and it gave her a very natural beauty that many men couldn’t deny. She radiated sexiness and authority, and men stared at her as she passed to make her way to me. She was a magnet, and people were attracted to her body and her mind.

When she arrived, I stood to greet her and she kissed my cheek, grabbing onto my forearm. I motioned for her to sit and pulled out her chair. She deposited her purse into the seat next to her and I pushed the chair in for her. I returned to my seat and watched her pick up the pinot grigio I had ordered for her and bring it to her lips.