Sadie, proving how cool she really was, burst into laughter and shot her friend a “so there” look.
“Whatever.” Ursula rolled her eyes.
Sadie gave me an apologetic wave and nudged her friend toward the exit. We could hear her berating her under her breath the whole way to the door. Once outside, they stopped, and we heard their muffled yelling before Sadie marched off in anger.
“Wow.”
“Ursula Rankin was always a petty woman. I never understood why Sadie was friends with her,” Monroe opined.
“I think Sadie’s wondering that too.” Sloane gave a huff of disbelieving laughter.
“Why do women do that?” I asked. “It just lives up to the cliché that we’re all catty cows in competition with one another all the time. And it’s not true. Look at us! Look at Sadie! She’s the one who had a reason to potentially be jealous and she was super nice to me.”
Sloane, Aria, Sarah, and all the Adair women were as close as any group of women could be. They’d lay down their livesfor their friends and family and wanted only happiness for each other. Women like Ursula were few and far between, but they were enough to keep feeding the cliché.
“I don’t think it’s only women, if that makes you feel better,” Sloane said with a shrug. “I think men can be petty and jealous over things and people others have that they don’t.”
I nodded. “You’re right.”
But as the conversation turned to a different topic, I couldn’t help but feel that sinking sensation of fear and alarm settle deep in my gut. Because Ursula had, unfortunately, hit a nerve. I hadn’t thought it mattered that our marriage had started out fake as long as it was real now.
Yet, maybe it did matter.
Even if Jared and I had come together in another way and started dating … would he have ever really committed to me in such a permanent way as marriage? And if he wouldn’t have, what did that really mean for our future? We’d decided to give ourselves the eighteen months to decide if we wanted to stay married.
What if Jared couldn’t make it eighteen months after all?
What if … what if he grew bored of me by then?
The awful thought made my stomach churn, but I tried to block out my old insecurities. I focused instead on the wonderful things Jared had said to me, the way he looked at me. He’d never felt this way about anyone. He’d said so. And I had to believe that it was true, and that Jared knew his own mind.
I had to believe.
Otherwise, I was setting myself up for the biggest heartbreak I’d ever faced.
Twenty-Six
Jared
The clouds above my head turned heavy and dark so quickly the automatic headlights on my Defender suddenly illuminated the road. I glanced up out of the windshield and saw the heavy, mauve bellies of the clouds straining.
A raindrop hit my windshield, then another and another.
“Well, at least something went right today,” I murmured, relieved at the sight of rain.
It had been dry and sunny for days, and while I had invested in an irrigation boom to water the fields during the summer, it wasn’t the same as nature’s version. Everything was connected, so even if the soil was wet, it still wasn’t the same when the trees and leaves surrounding the fields were dry and crisp from too much sun. The countryside was thirsty, and it needed the rain.
I drove toward the house, already anticipating seeing Allegra after hours of not being with her. She’d been a bit quiet these last few days because of what happened to the chickens. I wasn’t going to push her to invest in more birds until she was ready. And I wasn’t going to mock or judge her for developing emotions for the wee creatures. The way she’d looked after them and lovedthem was one of the many reasons she’d made it so hard to resist her.
Allegra had spent the day with her friends in town, so I knew she was all right. But I still needed to see her for myself, and, truthfully, I didn’t like her being at the house on her own. The security company was coming tomorrow to fit the cameras and alarm system. Jim’s police officers had found my father and pulled him in for a proper questioning. The bastard had tried to call me afterward from a new number and then texted me to back off and let him get on with his life. I’d blocked him. Again. The officers told me that my father had an alibi. He was in London the night the chickens were poisoned, and he had proof.
That didn’t convince me that he wasn’t behind it. He could have paid some arsehole to do his dirty work. And my father grew up on the farm. He’d know the easily accessible items that could poison a chicken or any animal, for that matter.
For now, however, there was nothing more the police could do. The officers had told me to contact them personally if anything else happened.
Relief flooded me as I drove up to the house. I could imagine in the winter it would be lit up, a warm, beckoning glow in the darkness. For five years I’d returned every night in the winter to no lights. To no one.
I thought that hadn’t bothered me.
