I am not a child.
I have built a life. I teach. I create. I love. And I will not let Shane Archer reduce me to a footnote in his life just to appease a woman who hates me.
Wiping my tears with the back of my hand, I straighten my spine until it aches. I take a breath, push down the sob threatening to choke me, and grab the doorknob.
I push the door open.
The movement catches their attention instantly. Shane is leaning against the mantel, a drink in his hand, looking miserable. Emily is perched on the arm of the sofa, looking smug.
When Shane sees me, the color drains from his face so fast he looks like he’s seen a ghost. His mouth opens, but no sound comes out. The horror in his eyes confirms it: He knows I heard.
Emily’s smirk falters, replaced by a flicker of annoyance, but I don’t so much as glance at her. My sights are set on Shane.He’sthe one that betrayed me.
The room is suffocatingly silent.
“Don’t worry, Shane.” My voice is quiet, but it’s steady. It doesn’t shake. “The ‘child’ is leaving so the adults can enjoy their dinner.”
Shane flinches as if I’ve slapped him. “Dove—”
“You’re an asshole, you know that? I am twenty-four, not sixteen. Just because you’re oh so much wiser and six years older, doesn’t give you the right to talk shit about me behind my back. I’d expect that from Emily, that’s on brand. But you? You’re my best friend’s brother. Even if you don’t have feelings for me, I would have hoped you’d treat me with more respect.”
I don’t wait for his defense. I don’t wait for his lie. I turn on my heel, the skirt of my pastel dress swirling around my legs and walk away.
“Dove, wait!” Shane’s voice cracks. I hear him push off the mantel, his heavy footsteps hitting the floor.
“Let her go,” Emily hisses.
I don’t look back. I walk down the hallway, past the kitchen where Cordia is humming, past the dining room with its mocking centerpiece.
I open the heavy front door and step out.
The April night is sharp and cold, a comforting contrast to the stifling heat of the house. I inhale deeply, letting the chill fill mylungs, scrubbing away the scent of expensive lilies and betrayal. I walk to the edge of the porch, my hands trembling now that the adrenaline is fading.
Behind me, the front door flies open.
“Dove!”
It’s not Shane.
I turn to see Cordia rushing out, wiping her hands on a dish towel. She looks frantic. She must have seen me pass the kitchen doorway, or maybe she just sensed the disturbance.
“Where are you going?” she demands, hurrying down the steps to catch my arm. “Dinner is about to be served. I glazed the lamb.”
“I can’t stay,” I say, my voice finally cracking. The tears I held back are threatening to spill over now. “I can’t be in there.”
Cordia searches my face. She sees the wetness in my eyes, the tension in my jaw. Her expression shifts from confusion to a dark, protective fury.
“What did Emily do?” she demands, her voice low.
“It doesn’t matter,” I whisper. “I just need to go.”
“Did Shane say something?” She looks back at the house, her eyes narrowing. “If he said something to you, I will go back inside and burn the roast myself.”
“He said enough,” I admit. “And so did Emily.”
Cordia studies me before making a quick decision. She throws the dish towel onto the porch swing.
“Okay,” she says.
