The Good Girl by Jordan Silver

Author:Jordan Silver [Silver, Jordan]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: UNKNOWN
Published: 2016-10-17T21:00:00+00:00

Chapter 7

***

That was our beautiful beginning and from then ‘til now I never questioned that he found something more in me than in all the others. It was never anything he said, that had never changed. He was still as tight lipped as he ever was.

But it was in the small things. Like the way he touched me out of the blue sometimes, as if he couldn’t help himself. Or the way he’d pull me into his office under the pretense of dictating something only to take me up against the wall or across his desk.

He’d never spent the night, not even that first time, and the one time I’d fallen asleep from sheer exhaustion after spending the whole night coupled with him, I’d awakened to find him gone, the place next to me cold.

Now he was gone, and so was she. It could only mean one thing. They were off somewhere together. Was he making love to her now? Would she be the one to finally melt that cold heart of his? Be the next Jonas Harp?

The pain was too much to bear and I almost buckled under it. As usual I didn’t know what to do. I’d never suffered heartache of his magnitude. Yes I’ve suffered loss before, but nothing had ever hurt like this.

I roamed the house like a trapped animal sick of my own thoughts. For the first time since falling in love with him, I felt real defiance. I’d never even entertained the idea of disobeying him, not once, but now my anger was such that I didn’t care. He was gone anyway so whatever we had before, was null and void.

I grabbed my purse and threw on an old pair of jeans and a halter top that I hadn’t worn in forever, and headed back out the door.

I drove to a little bistro not far from the house. I could do with a glass of wine now, but with the baby I daren’t risk it. Instead, I ordered a French onion soup starter and a greasy cheese burger and fries.

For some reason my anger seems to have fueled my hunger, either that or the child in my womb was demanding to be fed. The baby! What am I going to do about the baby? I no longer cared to tell her no good sperm donor about her existence; he could rot for all I care.

I tore the bread in the basket they’d placed on the table to shreds imagining I was tearing into Jonas Harp’s hide. I sat there in contemplation trying to come up with the best plan of action.

Should I pack my bags and leave without seeing him again? Should I for once take the initiative and make the first move? It’s what any self respecting woman would do. But as mad as I was, the thought of never seeing him again cut to the core. And what if I was wrong?

No, no I’m not. I’m sure I’m right. It had all the earmarks of his MO.

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