Her words hit deep, and I pull her even closer to me because this is what I want as well.
“I married Carolyn because she was attractive,” I explain, my lips brushing her forehead. "She made me believe she'd be the best mother for Freya, and she pretended to be warm and caring in the early days. But once we got married, she changed—she became cold and manipulative, and everything just went downhill from there.”
The words come easier now. “Then she started causing trouble between Mom and me, and pointing out never endingfaults in Freya, like she resented her own stepdaughter. I was on the verge of divorcing her when you showed up."
She looks up at me with those beautiful, big eyes, and I realize I could never say no to her.
“And with you, it’s been everything I have ever hoped for. I am in love with you, Juliet, and if you really want to become a part of our family officially, then it would be my greatest honor.”
She smiles through tears, nodding with joy, and then she pulls me down for a kiss. It's slow and deep, and I revel in it. We will be a family again.
A real family.
Chapter Fifty-Eight
JULIET
Tears blur my vision as I look up at Blake. Those gray eyes are soft with love and worry.
“Thank you," I whisper against his mouth, my body trembling, not just from shock but from how much I need him, how he's become my everything in this lie that has suddenly and amazingly turned real.
He takes my hand, his fingers lacing with mine, warm and steady, and squeezes gently as he helps me to my feet, my legs still shaky from the ordeal.
“Let's get out of here,” he says, pausing to carefully pick up the gun and tuck it away in his pocket, his other hand never releasing mine. He leads me out to the Bentley, the gravel crunching under my heels. The car door opens with a soft click, and he helps me inside.
We drive back together, his hand resting on my thigh the entire way, his thumb tracing slow circles over the fabric in a way that's both sensual and comforting. Lights from passing cars streak by, and the East River appears dark to our left as we head toward the estate. I rest my head on his shoulder. As theshock and adrenaline wear off, tears start slipping quietly down my cheeks, and emotions swirl inside. Relief that she's gone, but guilt over the cover-up, and love for him, making it all somehow bearable. There is an awkwardness now in the silence between us, and it leaves me wondering if this changes everything.
When we arrive home, the estate stands dark and quiet, the party long over. Tents remain on the lawn like ghosts under the moon, the ocean's crash faint in the distance. Exhaustion crashes over me like a wave. My body feels heavy as I step out, and my legs wobble slightly. Blake's arm wraps around my waist to support me. He opens the front door, and we enter the silent foyer. Dora and Carson are long gone to bed.
“Are you alright?" he asks, pausing in the hall, his hand on my cheek, thumb brushing softly. Concern shows in his eyes for me, love making his touch linger a moment longer.
I nod, but it's a lie, because the weight pressing down on me is hard. “I just need a bit of time on my own. Maybe have a shower.”
“I’m going to the hospital now, but I’ll be back before sunrise, okay?”
“Okay,” I say softly.
I head upstairs alone, my heels echoing on the steps. The bedroom door shuts behind me with a click. The room is cool and bathed in moonlight. The chair where Blake fucked me is like a reminder of life from earlier in the day. Everything looks the same, and yet nothing will be the same again.
I take the gown off slowly, the fabric sliding down my skin and pooling at my feet. Goosebumps scatter on my skin in the chill air as I walk to the bathroom. I turn on the shower and step into the cascading hot water. The citrus scent of body wash fills the space as I lather up, but then the breakdown hits, sudden and hard. Tears mix with the water, and I give in. Huge sobs shake my body as I crumple to the floor.
All my emotions pour out. It feels as if the sobs will never stop.
The steam makes it hard to breathe. I sit under the spray and allow the water to pound on my back, hoping it washes it all away.
Afterward, when I’m all cried out, I towel off, the cotton plush, but offering no real comfort. Slipping into a silk robe, I call Emma, my voice hoarse as the phone rings. The bedroom is quiet except for the ocean sounds through the window, moonlight slanting across the floor. It’s so late, but she answers quickly, her voice sleepy but filled with anxiety.
"Jules? How’s it going?” She asks. “I’ve been texting you, and I’ve been scared. What’s happening?’
I tell her everything—the farmhouse, the gun, the knife, Blake saving me, the clean-up guy.
Instantly, and with no reason to stay away now since the truth is out, she says she will come over.
I let her in, and her arms wrap around me instantly, hugging me tight in the foyer. Her coat's still on, smelling of the city—of the subway and coffee, and it all feels so familiar and safe.
”I'm here," she says, pausing to look at me, her eyes searching mine as she takes in my puffy face.
We head to the kitchen, where she makes tea—chamomile. Steam curls up as she hands me the mug, and I take contentment in the ceramic’s warmth in my hands. She sits close, listening as I talk it all out, while her hand remains on mine, comforting like always.
