“But I’m sure you must be very busy too,” she says to Dane. “I hear your practice is doing very well. I might have to come in for a treatment.” Her judgmental gaze rakes over my face again. “We could go in together, Abby. A mother/daughter day. I’m sure Dr. Dane could remove that freckle in no time.”
“Abigail is perfect just as she is.”
I stare at Dane. His voice has gone ice cold, and he’s looking at my mother like she’s a fruit fly he’s found in his drink: insignificant but disgusting.
My mother takes a step back, and a beat of terrible silence passes before her high-pitched giggle grates down my spine.
“Aren’t you the charmer?” she gushes. “Hold on to this one, Abby. You don’t know when another man will come along who feels the same way.”
“There won’t be any other men in her life.” Dane says it like a matter of cold, hard fact. “Excuse us.”
His hand settles at the small of my back, and he steers me away from the awful scene. I lean into him, unashamed that I’m seeking his support in the wake of the painfully polite altercation.
Abigail is perfect just as she is.
The memory of his fervent declaration warms my heart, chasing away some of the chill that frosts my skin despite the warm day.
“I’m taking you home,” he says, a decree rather than a question.
“I don’t want to run away from them,” I protest, even though I’m longing to do just that.
“You’re not,” he replies firmly. “I’m taking you away from them. Because if we have to breathe the same air as those people for another minute, I can’t be held responsible for my actions. I’d rather not make a scene at my colleague’s wedding.”
“Oh,” I breathe.
His fierce mood is shocking but deeply gratifying.
My steps quicken as we exit the garden. I’m eager to get away from this place. It’s everything that I want to leave firmly in my past.
I’m ready for my future, and I want to share it with Dane.
26
ABIGAIL
We’re safely back in Dane’s bed when I start shaking. It’s a small tremor in my hands at first, but then cold sweeps through my entire body. I wrap my arms tightly around my aching chest as a violent shiver wracks my frame.
“I’m sorry,” I say through chattering teeth. “I don’t know what’s going on with me.”
He tucks us both under the duvet and pulls me close. His square jaw is anvil-hard, but his hands are gentle as he rubs at my goosebumps.
“You’re in shock,” he says in his calm, bedside manner voice.
“What? No, I’m fine.”
I shudder, and he cups my chilled cheek. His eyes search mine for the lie, but I’m being honest. I don’t understand what’s happening to my body.
He strokes his long fingers through my hair in a soothing motion. “You clearly have trauma when it comes to your family. Seeing them put you in survival mode. But you’re safe now, and your brain is struggling to process that.”
“I didn’t realize you’re a psychologist.” It’s a weak attempt at a joke, and he doesn’t laugh.
“What did they do to you, Abigail?”
I press my lips together, holding in the awful truths that want to spill out of me. My instinct is to bottle everything up, to force it down and ignore it until the ache in my chest subsides.
But I’m with Dane now. I can lean on him. He’ll catch me if I fall.
“It’s…a lot,” I say softly. “I don’t know if I’m ready to think about all of it.”
