Total pages in book: 69
Estimated words: 63716 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 319(@200wpm)___ 255(@250wpm)___ 212(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 63716 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 319(@200wpm)___ 255(@250wpm)___ 212(@300wpm)
Darla turned her hand palm up to meet mine and squeezed back. “Nothing’s wrong, darling. It’s just–well, something wrong has been done, and I think I need to right it.” She pressed her lips together, then managed a weak smile. “You see, I know what my husband put you up to with Julian Lewis. I didn’t like it, but he’s not a man to be dissuaded once his mind is made up.”
The understatement was so extreme that I could have laughed, but it was all so strange. Had she really brought me up here just to tell me she thought that Fletcher had done something wrong? If that was all it was, why did she keep glancing around at every slight creak and crack? “No, he isn’t,” I agreed instead. “But I’m a big girl, Darla. I could have told him no.”
It was hard to say whether I was talking about Fletcher or Julian. I suppose in the end, they were one and the same. My mouth took on a bitter twist that I couldn’t shape into a smile, no matter how hard I tried. “I’m not sure there’s any way to right the wrong, though. And I was just as much in the wrong, if you think about it.”
Darla squeezed my hand again, more urgently this time. “I don’t mean Fletcher’s plan or your part in it, Willow. I mean what happened when Fletcher found out that you were giving him bad information.”
I froze. I’d never known for sure that Fletcher had realized the extent of my treachery. Improbable as it seemed, I had figured that he hadn’t. I didn’t know how he’d missed it, exactly. I’d chalked it up to some sort of blind arrogance. He was so used to seeing me as the little castoff who desperately wanted his affection and attention that he hadn’t noticed I’d grown up. That I’d changed. And if he had known, why would he have let her invite me to his birthday party tonight?
The memory of Fletcher spotting me earlier played itself in my head. The strange look crossing his face, his mouth pausing mid-word. He hadn’t known. She’d invited me without telling him. But why?
“What do you mean what happened when Fletcher found out?” I asked, narrowing my eyes at Darla. What game was she playing now, inviting me here when she knew I’d be unwelcome?
“He lied to you, Willow.” Darla looked furtively around again and lowered her already soft voice. “He realized that you were sleeping with Julian and weren’t on his side anymore, and he wanted to hurt you. He wanted to hurt both of you.”
“I saw the picture of him and his fiancé at dinner with his family,” I said stoically. “The truth hurt worse than any lie he could have told.”
“Oh, but that’s the thing, darling. He doesn’t have a fiancé. He isn’t engaged.”
A log cracked in the fireplace. Sparks snapped free and shot up the chimney. Darla and I both jumped. Her nerves settled as she spotted the source of the noise. Mine didn’t. They remained jumping underneath my skin. I turned to stare at Darla’s again, unable to believe what she’d just said. It was too good to be true. This had to be a dream. “What do you mean he isn’t engaged?” I asked, dazed. “I saw the picture. The ring.”
“Shelly Monroe is engaged, but not to Julian.”
I shook my head, disbelievingly. “No, they have a history.”
“She’s engaged to Dana. The press got the story confused because for a while, Julian was the front. His father is…” Darla raised her shoulders and let them fall back. “I hear he’s gotten more open minded in the last couple of years.”
I wasn’t listening anymore though. The information sinking in slowly, and I was left reeling. Julian wasn’t engaged. He hadn’t been cheating. Not with me, nor on me. For a moment, the burden that I’d carried around on my shoulders slipped off and I felt wonderfully light and free. I’d go to him right now. I’d tell him everything.
But then the weight slipped right back into place. Just because Julian had been absolved didn’t mean I had.
“It doesn’t matter,” I said dully. “He still hates me.”
Darla’s face was an open book of understanding and sympathy. “Give him a chance to forgive you. And what have you done, really?”
“I lied to him.”
Darla lifted a slim, elegant shoulder and let it drop. She made a dismissive noise. “Every woman lies. It’s our right. Every man does, too, and it is not his right.”
I was surprised that I still had the ability to laugh, but I did. “I don’t know about that double standard, Darla.”
“Think about it,” she pressed. “You lied, yes. But then what did you do to hurt him? Nothing. You sent Fletcher on wild goose chases and did your job. The one Julian hired you for, not your father.”