Page 3 of Dream Chaser

Donna clutched the golden chain around her neck, blinking several times in a row. Preston’s lips thinned.

“Nova,” my mother hissed.

A lecture awaited me. As if I gave a damn.

***

At five sharp, the front door behind my mother and Donna closed. I blew out a shaky exhale, rubbing my eyes as I leaned against the table in the foyer.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Preston said from the arched doorway. “Can’t you act like a decent wife for once?”

“Shut up.” I headed for the stairs, but he seized my wrist and yanked me back. Not hard enough to hurt, but hard enough to startle me. My pulse sped. “Let me go.”

Scowling, he dropped his hand. “See? You always make me lose it. I needed today to be perfect.”

Perfect for whom? What was the point in celebrating a marriage that didn’t check the most important boxes?

Love was absent. So was respect.

Another bolt of pain stabbed through my lower back—punishment for too much time on my feet. “I’m going to lie down,” I said, wincing.

“That’ll have to wait.” Preston ran a hand over his nape. “David and Henry are coming over with their wives.”

I stiffened. “You’re kidding, right?” I wasn’t in the mood to entertain his friends, least of all today.

He hitched a shoulder. “I wanted to show them the patio furniture I bought. Today’s a great occasion. Just don’t offer them that dry chicken. Get a charcuterie board ready with some other things instead.”

I hugged myself, shaking. “I spent all morning in the kitchen, and my back hurts. How can you just invite people over without telling me?”

He threw his hands up. “Your back? You’re not eighty. You know I need their support. Can you just make an effort for once?”

Stinging filled my eyes. David’s family owned a construction company. Henry worked for our local newspaper. They were important for Preston’s campaign, and he was using our anniversary to score points.

I choked back a sob and headed for the kitchen to get everything ready.

***

An hour later, Preston hummed a cheerful tune, scrolling through his phone while he lounged on our bed. I stood next to the closet, debating what to wear when I only wanted my pajamas. Wine had stained my dress; Preston and our mothers took care of ruining my mood.

I sifted through the selection of boring dresses that hid my body instead of showing it off. There, between a hideous gray coat Mom gave me and a brown dress gifted by Donna, hung my short, light blue dress that made my eyes pop and accentuated my curves.

I bought it when I turned nineteen. Years later, it still fit.

Putting it on was like slipping into another person’s skin—I suddenly felt more confident, more beautiful, freer, like when I studied in Emerport and only came home for the weekends.

When I planned to become a professional photographer.

When no dream was too big to chase.

“You’re not wearing that, are you?” Preston scanned me with his pale gray eyes as if he were the principal of my former high school who loathed short skirts, makeup, and girls who dared to wear either. My dresses hadn’t been an issue when we’d dated, but he hated when I looked pretty now.

“I am wearing this.”

The doorbell trilled. Preston went to answer it, shaking his head.

I closed my eyes. Inhaled. Exhaled.

David and his wife Kate had gone to the same school I had, only they’d been two years ahead, like Preston. I got along with Henry’s wife, Rosa. They weren’t my friends, but they weren’t the worst people Preston could have invited. At least he hadn’t invited the town’s sleazy politicians who’d worked for his father when he was mayor.