Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 85876 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 429(@200wpm)___ 344(@250wpm)___ 286(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 85876 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 429(@200wpm)___ 344(@250wpm)___ 286(@300wpm)
Spinning in my heels, I rush out of the ballroom and scan for somewhere to pull myself together, thankfully finding a small alcove a little ways down the carpeted hall. With my hands shaking, I pull out my phone and dial Emma’s number. She’s the only one who knows what’s going on, the only one I can talk to right now.
“Hey, are you coming home already?”
“She’s here.”
“What?”
“She and her husband are here.” I shake my head. “I saw his name… and then hers… and they’re both here,” I ramble.
“Breathe, M. I don’t understand.” She sounds confused, and I squeeze my eyes closed.
“Naomie and Tucker.” I swallow. “Bowie had to know they would be here, right? He had to know that. I mean, it’s obvious now that he works with one of them. Or maybe he works with both of them. I don’t know.”
“M, you need to come home right now!” she shouts, sounding panicked.
“I can’t. You know I can’t.” I drop my eyes to my feet. “If I just take off, he’ll know something is up.” I spin around when I swear I feel someone watching me, and my phone slips from my grasp when I see Tucker standing just feet away.
Oh God
He steps toward me, and I back away from him, bumping into the wall behind me as he bends to pick my phone up off the ground between us.
“End the call,” he orders, holding my phone out toward me, and my pulse skitters.
With shaking hands, I put it to my ear. “Emma, I have to go.”
“Who is that? What’s going on?”
“Tucker’s here.”
“Oh, Jesus, M. I have to tell you something.”
“End the call,” Tucker repeats.
“I called him!” Emma shouts, and my heart drops into my stomach. “I… I tracked him down and told him about the affair, pretending I was you. I asked him for some time. I didn’t want him to find out some other way and for your plan to go to shit if he did.”
“Oh God,” I whisper, watching Tucker’s expression turn cold.
“I’m so sorry, M. I had no idea he would be there tonight.”
“I’ll call you back,” I whisper, but I don’t hang up the call. Instead, I take it away from my ear and hold it at my side. Just in case the anger I see in his gaze leaks out on me.
“You’re Bowie’s wife?” he asks, and all I can do is nod stupidly as I look into his eyes. I can’t believe this is happening. “What the fuck?”
“I… I didn’t call you. I mean, I should have called and told you, but… I just….” I rub my lips together when his stubble-covered jaw twitches. “When I found out, I… I wasn’t thinking about you or anyone but me and my son.” I wrap my arms around myself, and my chin wobbles as I fight back the urge to cry. God, I do not want to cry. Not right now. “I’m working on getting things sorted so that when I confront him, my son and I will be okay.”
“Yeah, whoever the fuck it was who called me said all that shit when they were pretending to be you.” He rips his fingers through his dark-blonde hair, and his gaze goes to the wall above my head.
“I’m sorry Emma did that,” I whisper, and his eyes swing back to mine.
“You’d rather me not know?”
“Of course not.” Guilt twists around my insides, and his hands ball into fists at his sides as he tracks the single tear I feel slide down my cheek.
“Get your shit sorted, so I can deal with my shit,” he bites out, then without another word, he turns around and storms off.
I watch him disappear around the corner, with my heart lodged in my throat and my mind spinning from what just happened.
“M!” Emma calls from the phone still in my grasp, and I lift it to my ear.
“I’m here.”
“Are you okay?”
“Yeah.” I wipe the wetness off my cheeks and step back out into the hall, looking both ways for the restroom.
“I’m so sorry. I … God, I should have told you that I called him.”
“You should have.” I head for the bathroom and stop just outside the door. “I’ll text you in a bit.”
“Are you mad?”
“So mad,” I whisper.
“Okay, but remember I love you.”
“I know, and I love you too.” And I do, but that doesn’t change the fact that I want to strangle her right now. She overstepped, and worse, she didn’t give me a heads-up, which in this situation is bad—really, really bad.
After a quick goodbye, I tuck my phone back into my clutch, then open the door to the restroom and walk past the few women in line to check my refection in the mirror above the sinks. Thankfully, my mascara is still in place, so I just touch up my lipstick, then leave the restroom.