My legs feel like jelly as I push myself upright.
I’m sorry, Daisy, but I can’t do this now.
43
LAVENDER
“Brin!”I hammer the side of my fist on the door again.Bang-bang-bang!“Brin, open this fucking door, or so help me, I’ll—”
The door swings open, and my brother stands in the entryway with a white towel wrapped around his waist. “Lavender? Fuck’s sake, what’s going on?”
“That’s what I want to know,” I grate out, not waiting for an invitation as I push my way past him.
“Come in, why don’t you,” he mutters, swinging the door closed.
I drop my purse on the console table and turn to face him, shoving my fists under my armpits because I really want to hit something, and he’s just a little too close. I feel uncontrolled. Wired. My head is filled with thoughts that keep banging against the walls of my brain without making any sense.
“Tell me what I don’t know,” I demand as my heart hammers and my stomach tenses.
“You’ll need to be a bit more specific,” he mutters, but when he turns, I can see he’s concerned. “I’m sure there’s loads of shit you know nothing about.”
“Including things about my husband?”
“I don’t… no. I’m not doing this.”
“Yes, you are.”
“If you want to know anything, ask him.”
“I will, but I want to hear from you first.”
His gaze flicks in the direction of the stairs. “Mind if I go put some clothes on?” he asks gruffly.
We’re on the eighteenth floor, so I guess he’s not escaping out the window.
“Fine. But hurry. I have shit to do.” Daisy’s still with Primrose. She knows something is up, but she didn’t ask too many questions.
“I see you’re in your usual charming mood,” he says as he stomps off.
But that’s just deflection. This right now? This isn’t my fault. But this mood feels familiar, like the Lavender of old.
I make my way into the living room and to the glass doors overlooking a terrace. Brin paid a fortune for this apartment a few years ago. It has stunning views of Westminster, to Big Ben, the Houses of Parliament, and beyond. The early evening sky is really lovely. Pale pinks, violets, and oranges—it seems almost ethereal, but it does nothing to calm the turmoil I feel inside.
My husband, the man who professes to love me, who married me for… what? Payback? The man who then kept me under his roof to live a lie. At least, that’s what I’ve pieced together. What his lawyer said. What my brain was intent on denying.
And then there’s Brin—does blood make his betrayal worse?
I hear his footsteps tripping lightly down the stairs before his tall form appears in the doorway, pulling a black T-shirt down over his waist.
“Want to tell me what this is all about, dragging me out of the shower?” Bluff and bluster. I see the worry in the pinch between his eyes.
“I want the truth. I want you to tell me the truth.”
His brows flicker like he doesn’t understand.
“I swear to God, if you don’t start being straight with me, I will start breaking things.”
“Jesus, Lavender. Haven’t you grown out of tantrums?”
