Page 6 of Caging Liberty

Am I?

I gaze at the entrance again. “So move there.”

“I hope to,” Robert says, pulling my attention back to him. “One day. I’m hoping you can make me a rich enough man so I can afford it.”

He takes the opportunity to change the subject and dives into telling me about the line of surf boards—of all things—he wants to produce but needs the initial startup costs for. I don’t know why he would bother bringing this to me. Surf boards are not the kind of thing I invest my time or resources in, but I hear him out anyway.

Sawyer stands with his eyes glazed as we talk, and I watch his gaze occasionally travel toward the door, just as mine does. I’m not the only one Lib has piqued the interest of.

I half-listen to Robert for a good thirty minutes before I shake his hand and agree to do business with him, although I’m unsure why. Well, I am, but it’s pathetic, and I don’t want to admit to myself that I’m this invested in seeing Lib again.

I shouldn’t even entertain the idea.

As I leave, I find Lib’s eyes among a crowd. She glares and subtly lifts her middle finger at her side. I zero in on it and get the urge to punch Sawyer in the face.

I glance at Sawyer beside me and see him staring at her as well, and I wonder if it’s him she’s looking at. She doesn’t realize it, but she’s fucking up horribly right now, only making herself more appealing to him. And to me.

She may not have a price today, but she will.

They always do.

2

Liberty

Five years later

saltyshells123: You should leave him.

I stare at the words scrolled across my laptop screen and bite my lip. Three dots pop up as saltyshells types, and I move my fingers to the keyboard, intent on saying something so he won’t continue.

He’s never outright told me to leave my husband before. Over the past year, my chat buddy and I have exchanged countless messages, talking nearly every day, and I’ve been able to tell myself through it all that it’s been innocent. Maybe a little flirting, a few suggestive statements, but far from anything that could be considered cheating. We found each other on a chat site when we were lonely and needed someone to talk to, and the relationship we’ve built has been platonic. The only reason I didn’t tell my husband was because he wouldn’t understand, and it would be wrong to unnecessarily worry him.

Now that illusion is at risk of being shattered.

I quickly type out a reply before he can finish whatever it is he’s about to say.

manhattanpeasant: You know that isn’t appropriate…

The bubbles disappear, and I let out a sigh of relief. It’s short-lived, though. A message pops up moments later.

saltyshells123: He doesn’t make you happy.

I chew on my lip and sit up straighter on the couch. My heart rate picks up as I stare intently at the screen.

saltyshells123: I could.

I take a deep breath and slowly type out a reply.

manhattanpeasant: You’re married. So am I.

saltyshells123: I know, I’m sorry. It’s just … It feels like the only time I’m happy is when I’m talking to you. I would never want to hurt my wife. It’s just a lot sometimes.

I sigh and slowly stab the keys.

manhattanpeasant: I know it is.

And I do know. I don’t know saltyshells’s name—that’s something we’ve agreed to keep private since our first exchange—but I do know just about everything else. His wife was in a horrible car accident two years ago that left her paralyzed and unresponsive. She can understand what he says, and he thinks she knows what’s happening a lot of the time, but she can’t say or do anything in return. He works from home and doesn’t make enough to pay a full-time nurse, so he’s her primary caregiver. As sorry as I am for her, I feel sad for him too.