The gulf between us keeps getting wider, even as our elbows brush when we shift in our seats.
Mattie is silent on my other side, mirroring her brother as she shoots her mom sour looks. Her mom, meanwhile, keeps trying to tell me something with her eyes, and I can’t figure it out.
So many words unsaid. So many fears, and so much anger. Rage, from the man on one side of me and his sister on my other. Fearful intention from the woman across from me. And something that looks a lot like avarice from both Trips’ brother and father at the head of the table.
Nothing good.
No jokes, or teasing, or gentle touches. Delicious food, gorgeous decor, and nothing but unease. No heart. No bones. No soul. My future, unless I can find a way out of this.
Laid out like the pristine tablecloth in front of me.
I splash a bit of wine on it, just to see if it will stain.
Trips’ father chooses that moment to call to me from the head of the table, and the urge to keep watching the wine splotch is almost stronger than the need to be polite.
“Yes?” I ask, dragging my eyes from the spreading stain.
“I just wanted to see how you feel after your week of reprieve. I hope there was enough time for you two to prepare for your future as you should.” His gaze lands on me, heavy with warning.
The guys. He’s wondering if I broke up with them. I wouldn’t. I can’t. Even if I’m stuck here, I’m still a part of them. The same as they each are a part of me.
“Yes, sir,” Trips answers for me. I’m almost annoyed, but the ‘sir’ gives me pause. This isn’t my Trips. This is Archie Westerhouse. I’m not sure I like Archie Westerhouse much, but he knows this place better than I do, so I let it go.
His father smiles. “Good, good. In that case, I want you to know that I’ve taken the liberty of scheduling an appointment with the family doctor for you, Ms. McElroy. He’ll fix any impediments to our deal. I’ve also asked a wedding planner to visit later this week. Of course, I forgot to tell you two about the movers that will meet you tomorrow morning, but I’m sure there isn’t much in that rundown house that you’ll need to bring with you, anyway. Oh, and I’m sure your parents will be happy with the letter I’ve drafted, Ms. McElroy. The rate reduction should more than make up for the clients your mother lost this fall.”
A buzzing fills my ears as the man continues, but I’ve stopped comprehending anything he’s saying.
A doctor, to keep up my end of the deal.
Moving first thing tomorrow morning.
I flick my gaze to the tablecloth, only to find the red blot I’d flicked onto the white cloth has oozed along the edge of the wine goblet. As I watch, it slowly expands, a net of mock-blood stretched nearly all the way around the crystal.
Caught.
It’s caught.
I’m caught. Stuck. Trapped.
And for the first time, I realize there might not be an escape plan.
That this—a hollow mansion filled with nothing more than weighted glances and the illusion of choice—might be my forever.
My mind goes blank.
The amber glow of the lights inside the house has me sprinting through the door, the need to be home like a vise around my heart. I follow the smell of warm chocolate to the living room, where I dive onto the couch blindly, Walker catching me as Jansen scrambles so I don’t knee him in the face. As soon as I get a whiff of his maple syrup and pine scent, I fall apart.
I’d been doing so well.
But I can’t, I just can’t keep it together anymore.
Still, I know I should feel something besides a hole in my gut where worry and anger should churn. Something besides terror.
But that’s all I have, and that’s all I can react to.
“I just want to disappear,” I whisper.
I can’t even pay attention to the conversation that breaks out behind me, the volume raising the longer I cling to Walker, forcing myself on him so both my arms and legs are locking us together, my face burrowing into his neck.
