Page 15 of Angels & Whiskey

“Are you pregnant yet?”

She knew that Rich and I had been trying for two years. What no one knew, especially Rich, was that I was still taking birth control pills. While some people think that children might save a marriage, there was no way I was going to bring a child into the world for Rich to potential abuse.

“No. I need to tell you—”

The barista called my name, announcing my latte was ready. “Hold that thought.” I grabbed my coffee and sat back at the table across from Brandi.

“Tell me what?” she asked, taking a sip of her coffee, her brown peering over the lid as she tilted the paper cup back.

“I’m still taking my birth control pills,” I whispered.

“What? Why?” she asked, raising her voice in surprise.

“Shh. I have my reasons.”

“I don’t understand. Don’t you want kids? Haven’t you been trying?”

I took a sip of my warm, vanilla goodness before replying. “There’s more to it than that.”

“I don’t understand.”

“I know.” I sighed. I looked over at the menu that hung behind the cashier, not really seeing it as I thought of what to say next. I wanted to tell her about Rich—who he really was, but I was scared. I’d been living my life in denial for too long.

“Explain yourself,” she teased.

I looked back at her. This was my best friend. Best friends help each other out and if she knew, she could help me figure out a plan to finally leave him. “Remember that J. Lo movie,Enough?”

She raised her brows in confusion. “Um … yes?”

“Do you remember why she had enough?”

“Her husband beat her.”

“Right …”

“What? Richbeatsyou?” she asked in a whispered yell.

I hushed her again. “Shh. Not exactly.”

“Jesus Christ, A. Spit it out.”

“Never mind. Forget it.” I shouldn’t have brought it up.

“If Rich hits you, you need to tell me.”

I could feel the lump in my throat start to form. I was tired of being yelled at. I was tired of having bruises on my body that I had to hide. I was tired of living on eggshells. I pulled my sleeve down from my shoulder, exposing one of the bruises.

Her eyes widened. “Hedoeshit you,” she whispered.

“He grabs me,” I corrected—as if that were any better.

“How long?”

“I can’t go into details here. People are around.”

“Fuck the people, Autumn. You’re my best friend. How long?” Her voice had escalated to just below a yell.

“Almost since we’ve been married.”