Total pages in book: 123
Estimated words: 117176 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 586(@200wpm)___ 469(@250wpm)___ 391(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 117176 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 586(@200wpm)___ 469(@250wpm)___ 391(@300wpm)
Her door was slightly ajar and when hushed voices came to my attention, I leaned forward, peeking inside.
The first thing I saw was Julianna sitting on the bed, her back to me.
With a man, standing over her. A man I didn’t recognize.
His expression morphed into something akin to misery. There was just something in the way he looked at her, or just how comfortable Julianna seemed to be in his presence. They looked like old friends or more – someone important to each other – it was written all over their body language. How familiar they were in each other’s presence.
My hand tightened around the doorknob when he gave her a bittersweet smile.
“Did you know? That Grace was pregnant with your baby?” Julianna whispered.
He shook his head sharply. “She didn’t tell me but I knew.”
My brain stuttered for a moment until it dawned on me. What Julianna had said. What they were whispering about.
My body tensed as my blood grew cold.
No. This couldn’t be right.
I stumbled away from the door, but their voices still followed me, like a mad storm lashing through the air and cutting through me with such violence.
Grace was pregnant?
My chest tightened and the ache intensified.
Fuck.
Goddamn it.
The truth of my love tasted like ash in my mouth. I couldn’t breathe. All this time, I had thought my love story was some tragic tale. But my love was anything but pure – it had been stained.
Not by Julianna or the blood she spilled that night.
It had been tarnished by Gracelynn herself.
My pride had shattered at my feet. My love had been nothing but ugly. My story wasn’t tragic. It was a reckless first love and I had been cut, bone-deep by my own stupidity.
What a fucking fool I had been.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Julianna
Your mouth tastes of cigar and sorrow,
I like the way my name sounds on your lips.
But your smile will fade come morrow.
It is wintry and I am lonely,
Please come back.
Your mouth tastes of cigar and sorrow,
I like the way you hold me,
Even when I know it is all a ruse – a bleeding arrow.
For you still envisage her when you bed me.
Your mouth tastes of cigar and sorrow,
I like the way you touch me,
So coldly, like the dead wings of a sparrow,
And I have begun to crave your warmth.
Your mouth tastes of cigar and sorrow,
I do not like the way you left me without a second glance,
After your soft caress had been so thorough.
Please come back.
- A
I settled on the bed, my body tingling with frayed nerves. I had never imagined seeing Simon again, not after… everything.
He paced around the room, taking a quick look into my adjoined bathroom and library and then out of the window. Simon had always been vigilant and it seemed like he hadn’t changed a bit. Old habits die hard, I presumed.
“What are you doing here?” I asked, my voice shaking.
Simon, with his curly hair slicked back and glassy green eyes, smiled at me. “I wanted to see how you were doing.”
I gestured around the room, a humorless laugh leaving my lips. “As you can see, I’m doing quite well. I’m married and very much in love with my husband.”
His eyes narrowed on me. “What a pretty liar you are.”
We both stared at each other for a second before I cracked a smile. “How are you doing, Simon?”
“Surviving,” he deadpanned. “You?”
“Surviving,” I repeated softly.
I watched him run a hand over his face, almost tiredly. “I thought this would be easy but I never considered that looking at you would stir up old memories.”
“Old memories are hard to let go, especially when they are good memories,” I said, the words practically coming out choked.
His gaze brushed over me, from head to toe. Lingering for a second too long on my black hair and then my masquerade mask. “Sometimes good memories can turn out to be bitter.”
I swallowed, fighting down the ball of tears in my throat. “Life would be boring without some bitterness every now and then.”
I watched as he walked toward the window, leaning against the sill. He was trying to act composed, but I could see how tensed he was. Like he was getting ready to jump out of the window at any moment. Like he didn’t want to be here, but he was forced to. “When did you become so…perceptive?” he grumbled.
“When I realized that I was a murderer – unknowingly.”
Simon inhaled sharply and his eyes darted away from me, his expression growing tight. “Fuck, Julianna. It’s like you want us to hate you.”
I lifted a shoulder, half-shrugging. “That would make it a lot easier than sympathy.”
His lips thinned. “And this is why you’re still lying to your husband?”
I could feel my hackles rising as he openly judged me. Simon knew a lot about my secrets and he shouldn’t have been here. This was a bad idea. “My lies are none of your concern.”