Total pages in book: 176
Estimated words: 167940 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 840(@200wpm)___ 672(@250wpm)___ 560(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 167940 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 840(@200wpm)___ 672(@250wpm)___ 560(@300wpm)
“Still, that stuff you signed.” On my behalf. The words hang awkwardly in the air between us.
“I know, I shouldn’t have. But I guess that just means it’s not legally binding as far as you’re concerned.”
“What?”
“The need for secrecy.” She waves her hand as though that line of questioning doesn’t matter. “The point is, I thought, after the things you said, you’d be the last person to leave on his arm. I said that to Tessie, too.”
With a scrap of information, her words become faster in delivery, the knot in my stomach tightening. It’s almost as though I know where she’s going with this, but how can I? But what my body seems to discern is that this conversation will come to no good. Yet I don’t move from my seat, and I don’t tell her to shut up.
“I told her I’d invited you without telling you exactly what Ardeo is. I also told her you probably wouldn’t have the cash to bid.”
“Bid?”
“Yeah. For him. I mean, no offence.”
No offence? More like no idea. What is she talking about?
“But then she said he’d cancelled the auction that night, so we were wondering—”
I hold up my hand like a stop sign, and she immediately halts. Bringing it back to my lap, I try to ignore the tremble in my bloodless fingers and how the knot in my stomach is making me feel nauseous. But the hardest thing to ignore is the sense of foreboding that suggest what I’m about to say next will change everything.
“Say that again, please Beth. The bit about money.”
“Carson Hayes.” Again, she looks over her shoulder as though afraid she’ll be overheard. “You mean you didn’t know?”
31
Carson
What is it? What’s happened?
I burst in through the front door, the words balanced on the tip of my tongue. I don’t know what I’d expected. Maybe noise. Mayhem. God forbid, Lulu crying after some accident.
I need you to come to the apartment. Urgently.
That’s what her text had read. So here I am, dashing through an apartment that’s as quiet as a mausoleum.
“Fee? Fee, where are you?”
As I stride past the kitchen, the sounds of something shattering overlays the sound of my harsh breathing. I find her in her bedroom with a suitcase open on the bed, a duffel bag next to it, and Fee in the middle of the floor wrapping her hand in a scarf.
I’m on my knees next to her in an instant, her hand cradled in mine. “That’s a lot of blood,” I say, unravelling the scarf. A framed picture of her parents lies on the rug, shards of glass sticking out from it. “What’s wrong?” I’m not talking about the smashed glass. I’m asking about the bags. Is someone ill? Does she need to get home? “Angel, tell me what happened.”
“You ruined everything.”
My gaze drifts to the smashed frame even though I know that’s not what she’s talking about. But maybe I’m still fooling myself as I bring my fingers to her chin, tilting her gaze to mine. What I see there makes my stomach twist with anxiety. With guilt. I should say something, deny whatever it is she thinks she knows, but my thoughts scatter like marbles rolling around the floor because I know what that look means. I’ve seen betrayal. Suffered it. The clarity of the situation is suddenly blinding. I’m a fucking idiot for thinking I could hide this from her.
Did I refuse to tell her to save her the pain or me?
My second thought? Whoever fucked me over, I’ll fucking murder them.
“You ruined it,” she repeats, tears tipping over her eyelids. Her hands push at my shoulders as she scrambles to stand, her body heaving with silent sobs as she leaves me on the floor. She turns her back to me as she begins shoving T-shirts and underwear into the ruck, the duffel bag. A wave of nausea washes over me as I drag myself up and follow her. What the fuck do I say? I have no defence. My body works on pure need and instinct as I press myself against her, my lips at her temple as I bring my hands over hers, stilling them.
“Don’t,” she whispers, snatching them back, stumbling away from me. “I don’t want you to touch me.”
A fist squeezes around my heart, turning it to dust. She knows. She knows, and there isn’t a damned thing I can do about it. Except maybe tell her the truth. All of it.
“I need you to listen to me, Fee. I know you’re angry—”
“I’m not angry!” she yells, whipping around to sear me with a glare that would make Medusa proud. “I’m hurting. You hurt, hurt—” Her words falter, draining away. Her neck moves as she swallows, her expression hardening in the blink of an eye. “I just don’t know which hurts more. That you lied to me or that you could think so little of yourself.”