“Let’s not get into it. That’s his business. I shouldn’t have said anything.” He bent down to open another box, but I wasn’t interested in unpacking anymore.
“My mother was not having an affair with your father,” I repeated.
“Well, you tell me, then, why my dad confessed to fucking her the night she killed herself? My mom told me everything, Evie. Sorry yours didn’t.”
“Your father raped her.” The words spilled from my mouth. I had no evidence of this, but in my heart, I knew there was no way my mother would have willingly slept with Thornton. She was smart, career-driven, and kind. She was not a home-wrecker.
My anger had gotten the best of me and was spilling out. He froze for a beat, then stood up straight.
“Rape is a strong word to throw around. You say it too loudly, and you won’t last very long here.”
“Is that a threat?” I tightened my grip on the book.
He put his hands up and started toward the door, his back now facing me. “I think we’re done here. My mom warned me dating you was a bad idea, but I ignored her because you’re really hot. We can have different opinions on things, Evie, but fact is fact. Your mother wasn’t raped. She was a slu—”
Before he could finish his sentence, I hurled the book at him. It spun in the air twice before the corner hit the back of his head with a loud thump. The eleven-hundred-page hardcover fell to the ground, and a moment later, so did he.
I stared at the limp body in disbelief before creeping toward him.
What had I done?
I went around to examine his head. His eyes were closed, but he seemed to be breathing.
Fuck.
This wasn’t part of the plan. I lifted his hand, but it fell limp. Shit, shit, shit. I looked around my bedroom. How did I get him downstairs? He was heavy. Rolling him onto his back, I grabbed him by the ankles and began to drag him. Where to, I wasn’t sure. Then, the doorbell rang.
I swore and grabbed my phone to pull up the doorbell camera. My stomach sank. I stared at the screen, then back at the unconscious body I was dragging through my house, then back at the screen.
Sebastian was here with pizza.
Chapter 11
Sebastian
The Producer
Iwaited at the door, my leg bouncing with nerves. It was bold of me to show up like this, but I hoped bringing food and drinks would soften Evie up enough to let me spend the evening with her. I glanced back at the short moving van in her driveway, telling me she was here.
I shifted my weight from side to side, the hot pizza no longer stinging my hands as it cooled. I huffed, feeling awkward. Maybe she was in the backyard or something. I pushed the doorbell again, and suddenly the door flew open and Evie stood before me, breathing heavily.
“Hey! Sorry, I didn’t hear the doorbell. I’ve been unpacking. What’s up?”
I eyed her suspiciously as she wiped a bead of sweat from her brow.
I held up the pizza and six-pack. “I just wanted to say congrats on getting the role. I thought we could have dinner, talk about it.”
And, you know, the other stuff. Like me eating your pussy in front of a room full of people.
Something about her demeanor wasn’t right. Her smile didn’t meet her eyes.
“Oh, sure. Um…okay, yeah.” She seemed unsure about letting me in, but eventually moved to the side to welcome me in.
I went in and reflexively took my shoes off, as I’d always done when we were kids.
“It’s like stepping through time,” I admired. “It even smells the same.”
“Yeah, I found a stash of the candles she loved. Vanilla cupcake. I lit a few and stuck them all over,” she said, closing the door.
