And I actually get to have some fun.
I don’t hear the whispers anymore.
So maybe this has finally passed.
Maybe, this is it. Maybe, I can really come home again.
“Drew Bennett?” A pretty thirty-something blonde approaches. The way she’s dressed reminds me of the city. And her face is familiar…
Oh shit.Every one of my muscles seizes. I’m frozen in place.
“Remember me? You had an affair with my husband.”
26
DREW
I can’t breathe. Panic rips through me. I’m stuck in place. How did she find me?
The words scrape at the back of my throat, but no sound comes out. Every nerve in my body is screaming,move,but my feet won’t obey.
How—how does she even know I’m here? Did someone tell her? Did she see the article about the festival? Oh god—what if she saw the photos?
My pulse is so loud that I can barely hear the crowd swarming around us. Everything narrows—her face, that perfect lipstick smile that looks nothing like forgiveness.
Does she know everything? Or is she here to find out?
My brain spins through useless details: the color of her coat, the shape of her nails, the way her perfume cuts through the scent of roasted pork and mulled cider.
My stomach sours, all the food and the drinks threaten to come back up to paint the snow around us.
My instinct is to run—but there’s nowhere to go that won’t draw attention.
Of all the people to show up today. Of all the damn places.
“And now you’re parading around withthree menat your side like you’ve got no shame. You sure moved on fast.” Her voice is sharp, but her posture is defensive instead of threatening.
I snap back into the present, the cold air battling the heat in my face and biting at the tears stuck in the corners of my eyes.
My mouth hangs open, unable to form words. People are staring.
Then, a hand takes mine, fingers twining together. Daisy. Her grip is steady, grounding.
My sister has fire in her eyes, her posture protective and defensive. Ready to stand up for me like I’ve never seen her do before. “What, exactly, do you expect her to do? Sit around pining for a cheating asshole? Don’t come here attacking Drew just because your husband can’t keep his vows. Take that up with him.”
Nick’s wife, Jennifer Tanner, bristles.
Her anger falters into something more wounded.
Her gaze meets mine again, and the look she shoots me is more tired than venomous.
She swallows hard, her throat working.
“He said you knew…that you—” Her voice breaks, and she shakes her head. “But maybe I shouldn’t have believed him. He’s done this before.”
That makes my stomach pitch.
The fucking lying asshole. I shouldn’t expect anything less from him though.
