“Goddamn it, Abby!” He punches the wall, cracking the plaster, and dust and debris rain down on the carpeted floor. “I fucking love you, but you can’t see past Anderson,” he yells, slamming his fist into the wall again. “And I was thinking of you,” he roars, hitting the wall again. A large crack forms in the plaster, splintering toward the ceiling. “Because I didn’t want to stay here and end up hurting you if you rejected me!”
Wow, that’s comforting.
Not.
The wall rattles this time when he hits it, over and over, without stopping.
“Oh my God! Charles.” Elizabeth Barron comes running along the hallway toward us, and Charlie curses under his breath. “Sweetheart.” She wraps her arms around him from the side in an awkward hug. “It’s okay, baby. Shush.” She lifts his arm from the wall, and tears roll down her cheeks as she inspects his torn knuckles. She looks over at me. “I don’t know what’s going on here, but he needs you.”
I snort out an incredulous laugh. “I don’t think it’smehe needs.” Charlie visibly stiffens.
“Whatever the argument is about doesn’t matter,” she says, her gaze bouncing between both of us. “You’re married now.” She levels me with a pleading look. “Your husband is in pain, and hedoesneed you.”
Hearing that word, when it references Charlie, is like having a vat of hot oil poured over my naked body. It makes me want to scream from the pit of my lungs and claw at my skin. But I ball it all up and shove it into the innermost corner of my psyche.
I want to tell Elizabeth that her precious son is a monster, and partly responsible for her soulmate’s death, but she’s hurting enough, so I’ll keep Charlie’s secret.
For now.
CHAPTER FOUR
“What do you think you’re doing?” I ask the next day when a burly guy with cropped reddish-blond hair climbs into the driver’s seat of the red Lexus SUV before I can plant my butt in there.
The garage is packed full of cars, and Elizabeth said to take whichever one I wanted. I make a mental note to ask Drew to help me sneak my Kawasaki from the house and hide it someplace close by.
“Mr. Barron was very exact in his rules, Mrs. Barron,” he says, instantly losing more brownie points. I want to lay into him. To tell him I’ll castrate him if he refers to me as Mrs. Barron again, but I’ve a part to play, and there can be no missteps this time.
“And what exactly were those?” I ask, propping one hand on my hip.
“That I’m to go with you whenever you leave the house and I’m to drive you.”
This is fucking priceless. I whip out my cell and dial Charlie’s number. He answers on the third ring. “I can’t really talk right now, darling,” he says, and I puke a little in my mouth.
“Where are you?” I ask, because he was gone when I woke this morning.
After cleaning his wounds, I left him in the bathroom to shower, while I returned to my room. He didn’t try to join me, and I’m glad to see he still has some modicum of sense left. Because I would’ve gone postal on his ass if he’d attempted to snuggle with me after spending the night screwing some other woman.
“I’m at the office.”
“It’s the day after Christmas. Surely, the office is closed?”
“It was, but I’ve had to call an emergency board meeting to decide how to run the business now my father is gone.” His voice displays no emotion this morning, and I doubt I’ll ever discover the truth behind his father’s demise.
“I need to go to the pharmacy to pick up a script Dr. Wilson called in for your mom, but some goon won’t let me drive myself.”
The man in the ill-fitting suit narrows his eyes ever so slightly in my direction.
“You haven’t driven since you passed your test, Abby.” I can almost hear him smiling down the line.
“It’s a fucking automatic! I think I can manage it. I did get a license after all.”
“Not happening,” he snaps. “You think I don’t know you intend to run to him the first chance you get?” he adds in a lower tone of voice.
He’ll need to grovel to get back into my good graces, and I intend to take full advantage of that, so this is fucking bullshit. “I marriedyou!And I told you I’ve made my decision. I love him, but he’s dead to me now.”
I offer up a silent prayer for forgiveness.
“I want to believe you, but…”
