Total pages in book: 134
Estimated words: 129676 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 648(@200wpm)___ 519(@250wpm)___ 432(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 129676 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 648(@200wpm)___ 519(@250wpm)___ 432(@300wpm)
Tate’s gaze dragged along my mother’s ashen face. Anger sizzled in my veins. Couldn’t he at least fake concern? I was his wife. The least he could do was pretend to give a crap.
Tate jerked his chin once. “I’ll see what I can do.”
“I haven’t asked for your help,” I bit out. “Trust me, I know you wouldn’t mind relieving her of her existence.”
I immediately regretted my words. Did I just out my husband as a murderer?
“I mean…because you’re a first-rate arsehole,” I mumbled.
Not a muscle in Tate’s face moved. “Clearly.”
“Okay, I know this is bad timing but…” Dylan picked up her bag, checking her wristwatch. “I have to go study.” She walked over to give me a hug. “Call me if you need anything.”
“Thank you.”
“I need to pick Serafina and Gravity up from preschool.” Cal embraced me quickly, suddenly eager to leave too. “Please let me know if there are any updates. Row will drop by again with food for you and the staff.”
“That’s so generous of you both, Cal.”
“Enzo.” My husband turned to my bodyguard. “Get out.”
“Can’t. I’m on the job.” Enzo shrugged.
“You’ll have no job if you don’t obey me,” Tate clarified. “I am perfectly capable of protecting my wife.”
“She’s not the one in need of protection. You, on the other hand, look like you’re about to get ripped a new one.”
Tate gave him a stare that’d make Satan shrivel under a rock.
“Whatever. I still need to catch up on episode four hundred and twelve on my totally-not-porn manga story.” Enzo shrugged, fishing for the phone in his pocket. “I’m wearing green to your funeral, by the way.”
“That’s my least favorite color.”
“I know.” He left the room.
Just the three of us remained in the room: Tate, my mother, and me. I refluffed her pillow for the hundredth time. Tate’s gaze seared the back of my neck.
“You didn’t tell me your mother was comatose.”
“You didn’t ask.” I picked up my coffee. Anger bubbled up in my stomach like bile. “In fact, you’ve never once asked about my mother since we got married.”
“Not because I don’t care.”
“Oh no?” I turned to look at him skeptically.
“No.” His eyes bore into mine.
“Then why?”
“Because I was too fucking terrified what the answer meant for us. I’ve shared my deepest, darkest secrets with you,” Tate said slowly. “And you didn’t even tell me how dire your mother’s condition is?”
For the first time since I’d known him, he looked genuinely hurt. Not irritated. Not inconvenienced. Hurt. It gave me a glimpse of Tate as a child. Gray, glittering eyes that refused to blink from fear of shedding a tear. And lips pressed together from fear a scream would escape.
“What do you want me to say, Tate?” I sighed. “I told you I was falling in love with you, and in return, you wagged your finger at me, gave me the silent treatment, and then fucked me in the ass.”
Tate glanced at my mother, elevating an eyebrow.
I rolled my eyes. “She can’t hear us.”
“I can,” he countered. “And what you just said was total bullshit.”
“Excuse me?”
“You ran away.” Tate pointed at me. “As usual. And I chased, also as usual. I have spent the better half of this decade following you like a lovesick puppy. Yes, you told me you were falling for me, but those are just words.”
“Just words?” I spluttered, eyes nearly bugging out of their sockets.
“Just words.” His nostrils flared, a thick vein pulsating in his temple. “I chased you. I sheltered you. I moved fucking oceans and continents to get your mother a spot in the experimental program. I visited her. Often. I read to her, because I knew it was important to you.”
The memory of Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland assaulted my mind. He was telling the truth.
“I killed for you.” His lips twisted around the confession. “And I’d do it all over again without a second thought. Killing. Dying. Stealing. Torturing. There is not a red line in this world I wouldn’t cross for you.”
The confessions were ripped from his mouth and thrown at my feet like a sacrifice at an altar.
“You are so fixated with love as a concept.” He shook his head. “You have completely forgotten what it looks like.”
“If you love me,” I said quietly, “stop the war with Callaghan. Put me first.”
“Just because you said those fucking words doesn’t mean I care any less than you do. By the way.” He ignored my words, rummaging through his front pocket, producing something small and shiny. He tossed it to me. I caught it between my palms, uncurling my fingers.
I stopped breathing altogether. Something lodged inside my throat, and I was pretty sure it was my heart.
“But how…why…”
“I found this shell the week I finished off Moore.”
A perfect Scaphella junonia shell bracelet was in my palm The same one I thought I’d lost. Only shinier, prettier, the bracelet now studded with tiny, glittery pink diamonds.