“Yeah. Thanks. I know, but not the details. Did you know she was engaged?”
“I did.” His chin lifts with defiance, but I see through it. Hear the hoarse note in his tone. “It was just a heat of the moment thing. She told me it was an open relationship, but it didn’t quite look that way when he walked in on us.”
“Nice.” God, I feel ill just looking at him.
“No, it was very far from nice. It was fucking horrible. I felt like such a prick, but she was the one who lied, not me.”
“You didn’t lie to him, at least.” Anger leaps up inside me, hot like a flame. I tamp it down, not ready to give in just yet. “Why here? I thought my husband was someone to be afraid of. A bad man,” I say, my mouth turning down.
“You knew?”
“I’m not an idiot, though you seem to think so. Was it just another thing you thought you’d just keep from me?”
“Grow up, Lav. Most people with money are up to no good. I wasn’t sure if you knew. And no, I know you’re not stupid.”
“So what happened? When Raif walked in on you.” I want to know, and I want to run away. Why is it we like to hurt ourselves?
“It wasn’t a pleasant experience, let me put it that way.”
“Caught with your pants down,” I mutter.
“Celine admitted she lied. To me. To him. I dunno, maybe that helped my cause.”
“But not mine,” I retort. “You screwed her, so he screwed me over.” He needed to get married to help Daisy, but maybe he thought he was in love, unlike Brin who fucked with his plans. Literally. Not that my brother realizes any of this.
Maybe that’s why Celine didn’t get her golden handshake. I don’t care about that, but I hate that I was second choice.Second to the woman with endless legs and golden hair down to her waist.My God, I felt so smug in that pink café.
The first Mrs. Deveraux,I think with an unhappy huff.
Did he love her? Did she break his heart?
He said no, but God, I fucking hope so.
I hope he knows pain for what he’s done to me.
He can’t love me, no matter what he says.
“Well, this is just great, isn’t it? My life, the second chapter. Another fuckup,” I say almost to myself.
“He loves you. I see it.”
“You know nothing. But there’s no use crying over spilt milk, right?”
I don’t wait for Brin’s platitudes as, with a heave, I pull on the TV. Watch it tip. Fall. Hear it crack.
See it. Hear it. Feel nothing.
“Ah, fuck!” Brin throws up his hands once more, but it looks like he knew it was coming.
But I’m not done. Not even when I stomp on it.
44
LAVENDER
Another cab ride,a London evening unseen from the window. My fingers tremble as I pull out my phone and text Primrose.
ME: All good?
