“Has Huxley seen these?” He has excellent taste in his house décor and clothes. Assuming he didn’t pay for professional help with them, he might be able to articulate what needs to change.
“Yes. Which is why I’m sharing them with you to get your sign-off on one of them. The date is set for three weeks from now.”
“That soon?” He hasn’t said a word about it. Not only that, he’s going to be out of country for a few weeks. Did he intentionally do this to ensure he had as little involvement as possible?
“He thought it’d be best if the ceremony took place before you started showing.”
“I see.” But I really don’t. Is he trying to be considerate, or does he consider the wedding ceremony a chore to be done with as soon as possible? If he hadn’t responded the way he did to my message, I’d probably be thinking the former, but now it’s impossible to be certain. “Is he going to be able to be part of the planning at all? I heard that he’s going to London.”
“I doubt it. He’s going to be extremely busy, even with me there.”
“You’re going, too?”
“Of course. I accompany him on business trips. It’s my job to make sure every aspect of his life runs smoothly.” A hint of smug satisfaction and superiority. I can almost hear the unspokenUnlike you. “There’s no need of his I can’t meet.”
A hint of something sexual simmers underneath her words. The idea of him in London with Madison makes my heart jump into my throat, my gut burn. The trip is work related, but she’s gorgeous and they’ll be spending weeks together at a hotel. He’s about to be shackled to a woman he doesn’t want—and a baby he can’t be bothered with. What are the odds that he’s going to be faithful?
I’m not merely jealous. I don’t trust him, either. The courtesy and respect we promised each other during the ride back home yesterday seem so flimsy, they might as well not be there at all. His reactions to the appointment and the upcoming ceremony show me his true intentions.
I take a breath and modulate my tone. “Did he say anything about the third choice?”
“Do you like that one?” She sounds a little surprised.
“I’m not sure…”
“If it helps, the theme of the wedding is Amazing Grace.”
“Amazing Grace?”What does that mean?Do people have themes for their wedding these days? A commitment to love and a better future together isn’t enough…?
“Yes.” She clears her throat. “If Huxley didn’t put it into so many words, it’s a double entendre—for you and the future of your marriage.”
He isn’t even hiding how he really feels. I hate the hint of pity in Madison’s voice, especially because there’s also a tinge of schadenfreude. She enjoys putting me down with impunity because her boss doesn’t show me respect. But what have I done to earnherenmity? I’m already too emotionally overwrought to have a productive conversation. There’s also part of me that’s slightly apprehensive—what if Huxley sides with her? I’ll look even more ridiculous. “That’s what Huxley wants?”
“Yes.”
“Fine. Then the third one should do. The black should be onyx, absolutely no other shade.”
“I’ll make a note.”
I hang up without another word, grab my purse and leave for lunch. The two painful interactions have killed my appetite, but my baby shouldn’t starve just because Huxley andMadisonare jerks. It’s irritating I forgot to pack a lunch, though; eating out isn’t cheap, but so many things have happened in the last twelve hours that it slipped my mind.
Tolyan watches me gather my things. “Want me to come with you?” His eyes flick to my cheek.
“No. But thank you anyway.” I walk out and step into the crowded elevator.A sandwich. But not anything with tuna or broccoli, like Huxley said,I decide pettily. Ham and turkey with a slice of Swiss and two strips of crispy bacon should do nicely.
When the elevator reaches the lobby, I’m first out of the car. I head to the main entrance, my steps brisk. A rough hand grabs my arm.
“Hey, bitch! You ignoring me?”
I glare up at Mick. What’s he doing here? He’s always too worried about his public image to make a scene. “Of course. Why do you think I blocked you?”
His face turns bright red. “You ungrateful cunt. I’m pressing charges.”
“For what?”
“For assaulting my father!” he hisses, shaking me by the arm.
“You thinkIsmashed Nelson’s face? Don’t you see what he did to me?” I tilt my face so Mick can make note of my injuries.
