Michael kept his arms wrapped tightly aroundVanessa until he heard the click of the door close.
“You okay?”
“My ex-husband just walked in on me naked with my new lover. What do you think?”
He regarded her carefully and nodded, releasing her from his grip. “Go upstairs and get dressed. Seems like we’re having this conversation a lot sooner than we expected. We’ll be in the kitchen when you’re ready.”
She closed her eyes as if she needed to gather her strength before she found the will to disengage her body from his.
She didn’t look at him, just scurried around picking up her clothing strewn all over the floor, and rushed off so quickly, he was surprised he didn’t see the accent pieces on his tabletops and walls flying behind her in her tailwind.
With no time to linger, he found his underwear, pants, and shirt, putting them on quickly and walking to the door. He snatched it open, more than a little annoyed that his time with Vanessa was interrupted, but utterly angry that Karl had found her exposed like that.
He should’ve protected Vanessa better. That he’d been so wrapped up in making love to her he’d let his guard down meant a great deal of the angry heat building inside of him was directed at himself.
“Cindy, we’re obviously interrupting. Let’s just leave.”
“What’s the matter, Karl?” Michael stood in the opened doorway with his arms folded. “Don’t you want to explain to my sister how you know Vanessa?”
Even though the darkness muted his features, Michael could see the lines of the man’s face harden.
“You did this?” His voice was a low whisper meant to threaten. Karl’s attempt at intimidation fell flat. In fact, Michael saw it more like an invitation, since Michael would relish the opportunity to drag this asshole across his front porch and lawn.
Michael answered, “You’re damn right I did.”
Cindy looked back and forth between them with unanswered questions in her eyes. Her obvious concern about the rising tension between her brother and the man she planned to marry aged her in ways that tugged at Michael’s heart. His need to spare her feelings notwithstanding, Michael had to do what was best for her. Marrying a con artist like Karl would do more than hurt her feelings. It would ruin her. Michael couldn’t allow that.
He stood back, ushering the two in. “The kitchen” was all he said before leading them to their destination.
The kitchen door hadn’t swung closed behind them before Karl turned around, pointing his finger in Michael’s direction.
“You had no right!”
“She’s my sister. I had every right.”
Cindy stood in the middle of them with her hands pushing outward to keep an imaginary wall between the two of them.
“Michael, what’s going on? Who is that woman? Karl”—she turned to her fiancé—“how do you know her?”
“Go ahead,” Michael goaded Karl. “Answer her question.”
Michael could see the angry red flush crawling up Karl’s neck and he reveled in the fact that he knew Karl was pissed because he’d caught him.
“What is it, Karl? Are you trying to come up with a believable lie to explain the truth of who’s currently in my guest room?”
“Karl, Michael!” Cindy yelled, drawing both their attention to her. “Who is this woman?”
Before Michael could open his mouth, he heard the creak of the bottom step that led into his kitchen.
“I’m Vanessa Jared.” She walked carefully until she was standing next to Michael. “I’m formerly Vanessa Scott.” He could see the worry on her face as she looked up into his eyes for permission, or maybe encouragement. She was silently asking,Are you sure you want me to do this?When he nodded, she took a breath and faced Cindy. “I’m Karl’s ex-wife.”
Vanessa watched understanding creep its way into the furrowed brow of the young woman standing in front of her. She was calculating everything Vanessa had said and gathering the resulting meaning. Not just what the literal words meant, but how her world, her relationship was ultimately impacted by Vanessa’s words too.
It was heartbreaking to watch understanding bloom in her eyes. The shock wearing off and giving way to anger. Although Vanessa could see her rage building, coloring the fair complexion of her face and neck with a ruddy blush, she didn’t know Cindy well enough to tell who her anger was directed at. Was it Karl, Michael, or Vanessa? If she had to hazard a guess, she’d probably say it was a bit of all three.
“Michael, is this some kind of joke?”
Michael went to speak, but Vanessa intervened. This kind of hurt was going to ruin their relationship, and something about thatseemed wrong to her. So in that instance, she silently volunteered to be the sacrificial lamb.
