I’m not going to lie. Stepping onto that London-bound plane and heading to a different country with him as my only support and family had been terrifying. I waited during the eight-hour flight, during the arrival in Heathrow Airport, and the ride on the Tube to our new Camden Town one-bedroom apartment—no, flat—for doubts to besiege me. To assault me with about eleven different variations ofwhat the hell?Among them,What the hell are you thinking giving up everything for a man?And,What the hell are you doing depending on a man to provide for you?And my personal favorite,What the hell? No dick is worth becoming some man’s plaything.
And yes, they did attack. With a fierceness usually reserved for kicking super villain ass.
But for the first time, I didn’t give in to them. Because all I had to do was look at the man beside me. Jude. With him, I could never be less than who I am and want to be. And that isn’t my mother or the lonely, scared woman I’d been fast becoming. Before him.
Before loving him.
And loving him has brought me across the Pond, to a city packed with color and history that I fall in love with more and more each day. It’s given me an apartment in the heart of Camden Town, a vibrant, alive, teeming neighborhood that I could explore for months and never discover all its delights and surprises. It’s given me a temporary job as a receptionist in the same tattoo shop my man works at while I wait for the semester to begin.
It’s given me joy.
I don’t know what awaits us when we eventually return home to Chicago. I’m hoping a true family. Dan and I talk at least once a week, and though initially, the conversations were more stilted, they’re becoming easier and more relaxed. Knox and Eden have reconciled with Katherine, and there’s true healing taking place in that relationship. Thank God. Mom is still…Mom. Though she had the cutting-edge surgery, and doctors are very optimistic about her recovery and health, emotionally, she’s still in the same. I’ve just had to accept that and her.
And I’m learning to.
“What are you waiting on?” he asks, reaching around me to tap on the keyboard of the laptop perched on my thighs. I slap his hand away before he makes contact. “Cypress, damn.” He groans, then presses a kiss to my shoulder. “I’m dying over here. Bring it up already.”
“Fine. God, you’re worse than a kid,” I mutter, teasing him. Grinning, but with nerves twisting in my belly like a nest of writhing snakes, I click on the link included in the email from Grace M. Rowland, the employment law attorney my real estate lawyer referred me to. Or Grace the Mace, as Jude calls her—behind her back. Because that woman isscary. And like I asked for, the best.
Sitting in Dan and Katherine’s driveway all those months ago, I made the decision to stop being a victim. To no longer allow my past and my experiences determine my future. Or more accurately, imprison my future. I stopped running and decided to face Universal Health Group and my former supervisor, Darrin Locket.
I can say his name now.
Even in my head. I never could before.
But now it holds no control over me—neither the man or the company. I freed myself of him by freeing myself of my story. And with Grace by my side, we went public.
I took back my power.
And my life.
Seconds after tapping on the link, the browser opens toThe New York Timeswebsite.
“Sexual Harassment and Retaliation. Intimidation in the Workplace.”
And under it…a picture of me. Because though a journalist wrote it, this story is mine. It tells of my education, my work history, and then how it came to an end. It tells of walking into an environment every day that is supposed to feel safe but is actually where you’re most vulnerable. It tells of a company’s systematic efforts to demean and deface your reputation and tear down your confidence and pride. It tells of giving in to the pressure and mental torture. And then it tells of standing up for yourself and claiming your strength and power.
It tells of refusing to be silenced.
Grace had advised and urged me to sue Universal Health Group. At first, I said no. I didn’t want their tainted money that, if things ended in a settlement, undoubtedly would’ve included an NDA. No, I wantedthis.
My voice.
But then, I thought about all I could do with that money. Not for myself, but for the women who have suffered he humiliation and degradation that I have. I imagined the assistance and support the money could provide, and I told Grace to go for it—and not to settle. After seeing her smile once I gave her the go-ahead, I almost felt sorry for UHG. Almost.
Okay, no I didn’t.
Jude and I read the long article in silence, and as I scroll to the end, he sweeps a hand over my hair, tangling his fingers in the strands and tugging my head back. I meet his emerald, warrior-angel gaze—mywarrior angel who has had my back through this entire ordeal—and the love gleaming in his eyes is a balm to the butterflies, hellraptors, knotting my stomach.
“You did good, sweetheart,” he whispers. “I’m so proud of you.”
I smile against his mouth, accepting the soft, gentle kiss he places there.
“I’m scared,” I admit against that same mouth. Only with him can I admit that. I’m not a fool; I know there will be backlash, from UHG to trolls on Twitter. And I accepted that going in. But the knowledge doesn’t stem the fear.
“They can’t touch you legally. Grace made sure of that,” he says, rubbing a thumb down my cheek. “And thanks to you, other women are coming forward and finding the courage to fight. So fuck everybody else. You spoke up for yourself and all those women who didn’t and couldn’t. Who gives a damn what ignorant asses say? You’re brave. You’re strong. You’reyou.”
From him, the “You’re you” sounded as if it were the best compliment he could ever give. And my love for him that I sometimes think will smother me, grows impossibly bigger, deeper. Becomesmore.
