A Constant Attraction (Attraction #2) by A. J. Walters Read Free Book Online

laughter lines are a dead give away, so I guess I have hit the nail on head with my observation.
     
    “She always has been, but I love her all the more for it. I needed someone like her back then or else I think I would have gone into a deep depression with how my life was at the time.”
     
    I can't fail to register how Isabel's noticeable smile from earlier fades and wavers off from what she was saying. Her eyes move from the beautiful scenery racing past us outside, to her hands that lay in her lap. I have come accustomed to her picking at her nails or fingers when something bothers her.
     
    “Izzy, you don't have to tell me anything you don't want to or are uncomfortable of speaking about. However I do want you to know that if you want to talk about it, well then I'm here. I'll listen and I certainly won't judge. How can I when you have heard what you have about me and have certainly not judged any part of it.”
     
    I see she is looking out of the passenger side window again and an air of silence has descended around us. I don't want to break it though, as I feel she needs that time to think to herself. And so for the meantime, I just place my hand on her thigh as an act of reassurance. It is a couple of minutes later, when I feel her take a hold of my fingers and squeeze, then her words cut through the air.
     
    “I was a weak and foolish woman back then. I guess I still can be foolish, but every ounce of strength that I once had was bled from me by the man I was once married to. When I say 'Bled from me', on one occasion I mean it quite literally. He was a very intelligent man and well read. That's what attracted me to him in the first place I suppose, but he used his intelligence as a weapon against me and towards the end he also used his fist.”
     
    I tense as I register the words Isabel is saying to me. Fucking hell! Did that bastard hit her? Did he beat her? Is that why she was so broken and afraid? When she told me at Ickworth, she couldn't find happiness with another man, this worthless piece of shit was the reason?
     
    The thoughts and questions whirl around. I cannot help but feel the anger rise and burn from within the pit of my stomach.
     
    The boys, holy shit, did he harm the boys as well? As much as I want to know the answers to these questions, I hold back so as not to put her off her train of thought. I hear her take a deep, slow breath and the touch of my thumb caressing her hand I hope, offers some kind of comfort for her.
     
    “It was his bitter words and harsh actions which outsiders didn't witness, that hurt me the most. The internal bruising became so painful, but I guess after time I learned to live with it. For a man that supposedly loved me for who I was, he made it perfectly known to me that I disgusted him. The words 'Fat bitch' and the denial of any physical attention or contact became an every day occurrence. He said that my body repulsed him. The stretch marks from having the children were scars that he never wanted to see or touch. He would remind me day after day, that no man would want or love a woman like me, so I was a very lucky to have him.”
     
    She pauses, but I don't know what to say or if in fact I should say anything. I relax a little as I hear her sigh heavily into the air.
     
    “I can't remember the last time he held me in his arms or told me that he loved me. One day blended in to another. Days such as my birthday and Mothers Day, where I hoped and dreamed I would be made to feel that extra bit special, never happened. He made no effort what so ever for me. We'd wake, go to work, come home, go to bed. The same routine, day in day out. At weekends when you'd have thought it would be family time, he'd sleep in until gone midday, after he had been up till God knows what time in the early hours, drinking and listening to booming rock music. In the beginning I would sleepily walk downstairs to ask him to turn it down, afraid he'd wake the children. Or sometimes ask