Total pages in book: 166
Estimated words: 169305 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 847(@200wpm)___ 677(@250wpm)___ 564(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 169305 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 847(@200wpm)___ 677(@250wpm)___ 564(@300wpm)
But again, I couldn’t let Constance win. “I’d love to take a look.”
With a sigh, Eileen clasped a stack of glossy brochures tabbed with Post-it notes, sifting through three of them until she flipped to the right pages.
She fanned the options before me. Classic A-line dresses with extensive tulle and enough lace to open a French bordel.
Zach would absolutely hate them.
He enjoyed contemporary, artsy things. Grecian silk. Pleated cuts. Maybe something diamond-embellished.
It frightened me that I knew his likes and dislikes so well.
I swallowed down a desperate scream, shrugging as I tapped one of the pictures. They all looked the same to me, anyway. “This one is gorgeous.”
Eileen brightened. “This one is my favorite.”
For a moment, I pitied her.
For suffering the same phobia as Zach. For entering a loveless marriage. For having no one to help navigate her fears.
At least Zach would leave our arrangement cured.
I swore to it.
Constance searched my face for any trace of emotion—sadness, disappointment, jealousy—but found none.
Little did she know, she’d stumbled upon a veteran when it came to emotional abuse, courtesy of Vera’s twenty-three-year bootcamp.
“Very well, Miss Ballantine.” She nodded to the door. “Please, leave.”
“If you need anything else…” I jerked a thumb toward the hallway. “I’ll be in the living room, watching a movie.”
I deliberately antagonized Constance, resenting her for controlling Zach, knowing she didn’t have the balls to cry to him.
She glowered. “Hadn’t realized this was your day off.”
“It isn’t.” I drew a hand to my chest. “My, my. How unsavory of me.”
Humming, I strolled out, taking measured steps to my room, not letting the first tear fall until I was absolutely positive it couldn’t be heard.
Zach never arrived home.
I produced my phone, checked the time (ten-thirty—the fuck?), and stopped myself from texting him for the sole reason that he didn’t owe me anything.
In fact, I’d chanted this to myself on the regular since Constance and Eileen left three hours ago.
He is not your boyfriend.
Not your husband.
Not yours. Period.
Soon, he’ll promise his forevers to someone else in a fluffy dress on a field of pollen.
You are temporary and insignificant. A feather in the wind.
I paced my room, a lioness in a rusty cage.
The irony wasn’t lost on me. While Dallas’ now-husband had imprisoned her in a golden cage as she fought tooth and nail to break free, I’d slipped into my own gilded prison voluntarily and didn’t want to leave.
It would be easier if the glitz and glamor attracted me. I could find that elsewhere.
No, I craved the soft smiles we shared across the room, the fleeting touches, and his addictive words of comfort, each of them carved onto my skin like a tattoo.
I curled my fingers over my windowsill, staring at the gleaming pool. The clear water twinkled back at me under the moon.
What you need is a dip.
Cool off those raging hormones and red-hot jealousy.
I slipped into a tiny yellow two-piece from Dallas (“since I now look like bologna stuffed into a rubber band in it”), grabbed a towel, and made my way downstairs despite the freezing weather.
Steam rolled from the pool’s surface in thick white clouds. I dove in headfirst, slicing through the surface to the bottom and doing an entire lap before I resurfaced on the other end.
I sucked in a greedy breath and tilted my head skyward. Stars danced across my vision, melting into one another, whirling in a puddle of tears.
Stop with the weird pity party. Those are reserved for your birthday. Just swim.
I did. Until my muscles strained and burned. Until I thought my limbs would fall off and float away. Lap after painful lap. Until finally, my mind cleared.
When I finished, I hopped onto an in-pool lounger, closing my eyes, not bothering to dry off. The unforgiving wind licked my body. My nipples hardened to the point of numb.
A pool of water dripped from my hair to the deck. I shaped my lips around a line of a song I listened to every night in my bunk bed in Seoul.
The ribs aren’t a cage. They’re the walls to your home.
I drew a shaky breath, pushing aside the melancholy.
You’re living on borrowed time, Fae.
I refused to give Constance the pleasure of ruining this for me.
But what if she’s right? a tiny voice in my conscience asked. What if you’re hurting him?
The seed sprouted in my mind, planting roots in my chest.
And what of yourself? This man will inflict carnage on your heart. A victory against your evil stepmother isn’t worth that.
Just the idea of Eileen in one of those poofy wedding dresses churned acid in my stomach.
How would I cope when the time came to part ways with my personal demon?
“Octi.” His soothing voice draped over me like a cashmere blanket.
Every muscle in my body tightened, but I kept my eyes closed. His steady footsteps neared, clapping against the heavy granite deck.