I let out a nervous giggle, scratching the back of my head. “I mean, I don’t know, I was just standing right here, you know?”
What are you doing?If I could kick my own ass, I would.
I don’t want her here. And I know what’s coming.
“Well. We should be quick, shouldn’t we?” she winks, heading into the family room with her large bag.
Wewillbe quick, but only withoneof the tasks she’s thinking about.
Rounding the kitchen island, I watch as she scatters the photos across the counter before pulling out one more. She smiles, looking up at me from under her lashes.
“Consider this a gift,” she smiles coyly, placing it face down and sliding it toward me.
Do not, under any circumstances, look at that,I think.
I place my hand over it with an awkward smile. “Oh, wow, that’s, well, Elsa, that’s a really nice gift. I couldn’t have wanted anything more,” I grit out, eyeing the hallway behind her.
Her big blue eyes getscarygiant as she pouts. “You didn’t even look at it.”
I squeeze my eyes shut like I’ve been stabbed in the ribs.
“Look at what?” Comes a voice from the hallway.
Fuck.Fuck.
My eyes whip open just in time to see Elsa turn, her pale skin immediately turning red.
Amara floats into view. She’s changed, now wearing a pair of short, gray pajama shorts and a large band t-shirt tucked into the waistband.
Elsa turns to me slowly as Amara’s eyes bore into mine.
I chuckle, knowing how much danger I’m in right now. “Well,” I start, sucking in my bottom lip. “Elsa was just here to show me some designs she’s been working on for this place. She’s my interior designer.”
Elsa turns back to Amara, a stiff smile plastered on her lips. “And you are?” she asks sweetly.
Amara looks at me wickedly. “His wife,” she smiles, tilting her head to the side. “I’m so glad you can help my husband with this. He, well, he has some—” she looks around the room, wincing. “Issues. Hehas many issues.”
Elsa slowly starts gathering all the photos, dragging them back into her bag. “It’s actually quite late,” she says nervously, finding a second to shoot a scowl my way.
Hoisting her bag back on her shoulder, Elsa sends us one last awkward smile before making a beeline toward the door. Once there, she turns back to me. “You can keep that photo. It seems like you want it.” She says it with a laugh that makes my skin crawl, and within seconds, she’s out the door.
Truthfully, I forgot what was even under my hand.
“What photo?” Amara asks curiously, her bare feet padding over to me.
“Well,” I start, but it’s too late.
Amara knocks my hand away and picks up the photo underneath.
Her face twists with annoyance, before her lips twist up in a playful smirk. “Nice pussy,” she giggles, dropping it back down on my counter with an eyeroll.
“That’s not?—”
“Yes, it is!” she calls out, taking her place in front of my windows.
“It’s not what you think,” I plead, unsure of how to explain this in a way that doesn’t make this entire situation ten thousand times worse.
“No, it’s exactly what I think it is.” Her voice is calm as she looks out over the inner harbor. Steely, but calm. It’s terrifying. “But what you did before this whole situation is none of my business.”
