One Weekend with the Billionaire Chapter 46

*Julia*

The streets are crowded as the sedan winds its way slowly toward my apartment building. There are lots of cars everywhere as people hurry to make it to work on time. Once we are downtown, the sidewalks are full as well. People pass by quickly, briefcases or attaché cases in their hands, some of them on their phones, others looking straight ahead as they try to get to their destinations on time without interacting with any other human beings.

I understand the need to keep to myself. For the last two years, I have walked the streets near my apartment, on the way to the market or to run other errands, without truly looking at anyone unless I absolutely have to. I have told myself it is because I’m in a hurry, but that’s not really the case. The truth of the matter is I’ve been scared to get close to anyone. I’ve been afraid that, if I were to make friends with another woman, I’d be tempted to tell her the truth about my empty marriage. And there’s no way in the world I would ever consider making friends with a man. Jeff would be infuriated at the thought of me spending time with another man.

Unless, of course, it benefited him, like it has this weekend. I guess that was the catch, wasn’t it? That he was okay with me being with another man as long as it was helpful to him.

Mr. Springer sits next to me in the back seat, his eyes mostly fixed on the road ahead or out his window. The driver, whom I’ve learned is named Victor, is a sweet, older gentleman as well. Even though we are going nowhere fast, he seems perfectly content to take his time and let other cars over when they signal that they’d like to change lanes.

I am nervous for so many reasons, I couldn’t possibly list them all. What will Jeff say when he gets home? Surely, he’s left for work by now, hasn’t he? Will he hurt me? Will he demand that I tell him everything? What if he won’t even speak to me and demands a divorce?

Would that be so bad?

Beyond my nervousness, however, there is an overwhelming sadness. Not knowing when I might see Braxton again, or how the situation will be between us the next time I do see him, has me wondering if I’ve made the right decision. I know my parents will be disappointed and angry at me if I leave Jeff. I hate to make them feel that way. But… Jeff is not the man I thought he was. He’s not even the man I married. Maybe I should consider what Braxton said.

I let out a sigh and rub my temples. “It will be all right, Ms. Thompson,” Mr. Stringer says, reaching over and patting my arm.

I turn to him and smile, hoping that is true, but I don’t know how it can be. He has no idea what Jeff will say or do once we are behind closed doors. The closer we get to home, the more anxious I become.

When we make the final turn, and the sedan slows in front of my apartment building, I take a deep breath and wait for the driver to open the door for me. Then, he begins to unpack all of my bags from the trunk. Braxton has insisted on buying me expensive luggage to carry all of my new clothing and accessories home in. I tried to tell him that wasn’t necessary, that I could just carry it in bags or boxes, but he insisted and had the staff pack it all for me, including my favorite soaps and shampoos that he had in the bathroom, also especially purchased for me. I am guessing there are other items in there as well that I will discover when I unpack.

If I unpack.

What if I just run away? What if I go to a hotel or back home? I think to myself as I try to take one of the smaller bags and am waved away by the men who insist that they can handle all of it. They can. I just feel… odd not helping.

We walk up the stairs, and I catch the eyes of one of my neighbors who does a double take and then greets me. I say hello back. I know I look different. I’m wearing a nice black skirt and a white blouse with black embroidery on the sleeves and around the middle under my new black coat. I have on nice heels that aren’t too high or narrow but look lovely with this outfit. My hair looks different than usual since I’ve been using the expensive products Braxton had on hand.

Visions of Jeff coming home and dumping all of my nice things down the drain, of ruining my clothing, cutting it to bits or setting it on fire fill my mind. I’d hate to think of that, but I wouldn’t put it past him. I know he won’t want constant reminders of my weekend with Braxton everywhere.

I unlock my apartment, and Mr. Stringer and Victor take my things inside, carrying them into the bedroom. I am embarrassed at the state of my apartment as I glance around. The sink is overflowing with so many dishes, it looks as if I had left it that way for a week before my trip. The bed is unmade and there are clothes all over the floor in the bedroom, all of them Jeff’s, but still, it reflects badly on me.

“You can just leave them… here,” I tell the men, gesturing at an area by the bed. I plan on putting most of it directly into the closet, still in the bags. If I get any of my new things out, it will be when Jeff is not home. I am hopeful he will not notice them, even though I am certain that he will.

Victor nods his head at me and leaves the room. Mr. Stringer follows, and I usher them out, assuming both men will leave. While Victor continues out the kitchen door, Mr. Stringer stops in the kitchen. He gives me a soft smile and reaches into his pocket. “Here is a phone that you can use should you need to phone Mr. Merriweather for any reason. Here is a debit card in your name with enough money to make sure that you are able to get away should you need to, and here is enough cash to be sure that you can get a cab back to Mr. Merriweather’s house or anywhere else you may need to go.”

I didn’t count the money. I didn’t even want to take it, but I knew he wouldn’t leave unless I did so. “Thank you,” was all I could say. “Thank you for everything.”

Again, Mr. Stringer pats my arm. “Ms. Thompson, it has been a pleasure. It has been a delight to make your acquaintance. I wish you nothing but the best.”

“Thank you,” I say again, not sure what else I can say. Tears are stinging my eyes as he heads to the door. I follow him, closing and locking it behind him, and then I can’t control myself and the tears run down my cheeks.

I think I have made the wrong decision.