Total pages in book: 98
Estimated words: 90778 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 454(@200wpm)___ 363(@250wpm)___ 303(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 90778 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 454(@200wpm)___ 363(@250wpm)___ 303(@300wpm)
Without hesitation, I slide my hand through his, linking our fingers. “We were just about to leave,” I say firmly, my voice steady despite the heat of anger bubbling inside me. I don’t look at Annabelle, focusing instead on Earl. My words are more for her benefit than his. Let her see where his loyalties lie.
But Annabelle doesn’t back down. “Oh, but before you go, I have a small request,” she says, her tone sweet, almost cloying. She tilts her head, a picture of practiced innocence. “Earl, do you think you could spare a moment? It’s important.”
I feel the muscles in his arm tense under my grip, but his face remains unreadable. “If it’s important, say it now,” he replies, his voice clipped. “We’re in a hurry.”
Annabelle’s smile doesn’t falter, but there’s a flicker of something in her eyes—hesitation, perhaps? “For Raven’s sake,” she says, glancing at me for the first time all evening, “it might be better if we talked privately.”
My patience snaps. “Then don’t bother saying it at all,” I shoot back, stepping forward. My grip on Earl’s hand tightens, and I glare at her. “We’re leaving.”
The words hang heavy in the air, and Earl turns to me, his brow furrowed. “Raven,” he says, his voice lower now, warning, “perhaps I should hear what Annabelle has to say.”
I freeze, astonished that he has responded to me in this way, in this tone, in front of her of all people. It’s like he has dumped a bucket of ice water over my head.
Annabelle’s expression shifts into delighted smugness, but I don’t give her the satisfaction of an argument.
“Fine,” I say as if it doesn’t bother me in the least that my husband would put her before me, his wife. I release his hand.
“See you in the car,” Earl says.
Wordlessly, I turn and walk away, my heels clicking sharply against the floor as I make my way toward the exit. The voices and laughter around me blur, my pulse pounding in my ears. Earl’s words replay in my mind, each one cutting deep. He stood there, defending her, taking her side, acting as though I was the unreasonable one.
By the time I reach the valet station, my anger has morphed into something colder, more resolute. The attendant brings the car around, and I climb into the backseat without a word, my hands clenched in my lap.
The car idles quietly at the valet station, the faint hum of the engine doing nothing to quell the storm raging inside me. My hands remain clenched in my lap as I steal a glance back toward the grand entrance of the venue. The golden light spilling out onto the steps seems to mock me, warm and inviting, a stark contrast to the cold knot twisting tighter in my chest.
I wait.
The minutes tick by, each one slower than the last. A couple emerges, laughing as they descend the staircase, their silhouettes elegant and carefree. Another group follows, their voices carrying faintly in the night air. But there’s no sign of him. No sign of Earl. My nails press into my palms as my mind drifts, unbidden, to the possibilities.
Is he still with her?
The thought surfaces, unwelcome and sharp, and I force myself to shake it off. I won’t let my imagination run wild. He’s probably just tying up loose ends, exchanging polite goodbyes. But then another thought creeps in—what if it’s more than that? What if she is telling him what I told her? Nah. That I know for sure she is not doing. But what if he’s holding her now, whispering the same low, intimate words he’d whispered to me not long ago?
My stomach churns, and I snap my gaze back to the valet in front of me. I don’t care, I tell myself. This isn’t jealousy. It’s annoyance. That’s all.
But the ache in my chest betrays me.
The clock on the dashboard glows brightly, each flickering number marking the passage of time. Ten seconds. Fifteen. Twenty. One minute. Five minutes. Seven minutes. By the time I catch sight of him, I’m teetering on the edge of leaving altogether.
Earl steps out of the building, his figure backlit by the golden glow of the foyer. He doesn’t rush, his movements are calm and measured, as though he doesn’t have a care in the world. My heart thuds heavily as I watch him scan the valet line, his eyes landing on his car. For a moment, I think he looks relieved, but it’s gone too quickly to be certain.
I turn my head sharply away and pretend to be absorbed in the view outside the car. I hear the sound of his approaching footsteps, but I don’t turn around. The door opens, and the seat dips slightly as he slides in beside me. He shuts the door quietly behind him. Still, I don’t turn.