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Reparation(65)

By:Stylo Fantome


“No, that's not true. None of that is true. You ..., you just won't see it. You won't listen to him. You're happy here. Why can't you just let yourself be happy?” Sanders insisted, staring over her head. She gripped onto his lapels.

“Because I can't. I just can't. Sanders, I bought a plane ticket. I am going,” Tate informed him.

His face cracked then. He wouldn't look at her, kept staring at the wall as his perfect features folded into agony. He was so good at hiding his emotions, that it was shocking to see such a transformation. He closed his eyes, lifted a hand to the side of his head, pulled at a lock of hair. She wrapped her arms around him, pressed her face to his chest.

“He's going to be so upset. You're going to hurt him so badly. Please, please, don't go,” Sanders begged.

“Come with me,” she whispered, holding onto him as tightly as possible. He started to shake, his swaying getting a little chaotic.

“No. I can't. I do love him, I am happy here. Please, Tatum. Please, don't go. You forgave him. You promised. Please,” he was crying. She started crying as well.

“You want me to stay? You want me to be unhappy? To always be questioning myself, questioning him? I'll do it. For you, Sanders, I would do it,” she told him.

He slowly stopped swaying. Took a couple deep breaths. Then his arms came around her, hugged her tightly. Crushed her to his chest. She felt his face against her head, pressing into her hair.

“I'll take you. I'll take you anywhere you want to go,” he whispered. She nodded.

“Thank you.”

Sanders didn't look at her, just let go of her and walked out of the kitchen. Tate stood there, feeling like a small piece of her had died. She never wanted to hurt Sanders. Life wasn't fair. How come Jameson wasn't ever the one shaking and crying?

Sanders loaded her luggage up into the Bentley, then left the car parked across from the porch. She wasn't going to run away in the middle of the night, not again. She would say goodbye to the devil, see him face to face. If she didn't die of a heart attack, first.

Tate was collecting things out of the library when she heard the Jaguar pull up into the driveway, its tires spinning in the loose pebbles. She was holding onto the Cartier necklace, the one Jameson had secretly bought for her at Nick's auction. A sweet gesture, but just another way to buy her. Stupid man, he had gotten her for free, and he had never even realized it. She was looking over the pearls when the library door burst open with such force, she jumped as it banged off of a wall.

“Did you think I wouldn't find out!?” Jameson yelled at her.

“Excuse me?” she asked, a little shocked. Sure, she had seen him angry. He snapped at her on a regular basis, it was one of their things. But rarely did he yell. He stalked towards her and she skittered away, got penned in between him and the back of the couch.

“You used my credit card. What the fuck were you thinking?” he growled, looming over her.

Oops. I thought I'd have more time. Does he check his online statements every day!?

“I paid you back. I already deposited the cash into your bank account. I don't have a card, I had to -,” Tate started to explain.

“I don't give a fuck about the money!” he shouted, and she shrieked in surprise. “You could spend all my money, and I wouldn't give a fuck! All you have to do is ask! But you cannot use it to run away to him!”

“But I paid it back,” she stressed. Jameson moved to get closer to her and she slid to the side, heading towards the door. He grabbed her hand, his fingers tangling in the necklace she was still clinging to.

“That you used it without my knowledge, that you used it to get away from me, that you used it to fly to him ..., I don't even know where to start,” he hissed. She tried to pull away.

“It's not a big deal, Jameson,” she insisted. He yanked on her arm and she stumbled forward.

“Apparently it's a big fucking deal, if you feel like you have to lie to me! Sneaking around this house like a fucking shadow! I'm surprised you're even taking this!” he yelled, holding up her hand with the pearls in it. “Of course, you used me for my money. I suppose it's not a leap to assume you'd use my gifts. It is worth a lot of money, you could get far on it.”

“I wasn't going to take them!” Tate shouted back, offended that he thought she would use him like that – he was the one who equated everything with a price, not her.

“Sure fucking looks like it! But by all means, go ahead, you certainly earned them!” he snapped. Tate gasped.

“Fuck you, Kane!” she hissed, then she gripped the necklace between both hands and yanked. Pearls flew around the room.

“Lost out on a lot of money, baby girl. Your boyfriend certainly won't be able to pay for you the way I have,” Jameson said softly.