Total pages in book: 98
Estimated words: 90778 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 454(@200wpm)___ 363(@250wpm)___ 303(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 90778 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 454(@200wpm)___ 363(@250wpm)___ 303(@300wpm)
I know I should return to his side, but I can’t. Not yet. I need space to breathe. So I veer toward the buffet table instead, clutching my glass of champagne like a lifeline. The spread is extravagant, as expected, and I busy myself picking up a few bite-sized appetizers—miniature tarts with glossy fillings, delicate skewers of marinated shrimp, and tiny puff pastries that look almost too perfect to eat. I nibble on one absentmindedly, the flavors blending together on my tongue without making much of an impression.
My gaze drifts back to Earl, as it always does, no matter how hard I try to resist. He stands at the center of the room, impossibly handsome in his tailored tuxedo, the faintest smile curling at the edge of his lips as if he knows exactly how stunning he looks. There’s an air of respectability about him now, a sharp contrast to the scrappy teen I fell in love with. But he’s still Earl. My Earl.
The thought lodges in my chest like a thorn as I watch Annabelle make her way toward him again. At first, she’s surrounded by a group of admirers, her laughter ringing out like delicate chimes, but gradually, the crowd thins. And it’s just the two of them now. My stomach knots as Annabelle reaches out, her manicured hand brushing against his arm with an ease that sets my teeth on edge.
Earl doesn’t pull away.
I freeze, my glass hovering mid-air. From this distance, I can’t hear what they’re saying, but their body language tells me enough. Annabelle leans in, laughing softly, her fingers lingering on his sleeve. Earl’s expression remains guarded, but he allows it—her touch, her laughter, her proximity. And why wouldn’t he? He hates me and wants to punish me. What better way? The realization cuts deeper than I expect it to.
Annabelle leans closer, whispering something into his ear. And my heart literally stops. Is she telling him what I told her all those years ago? No, she wouldn’t. Knowing her she would keep that back and torture me with it for as long as she can. Earl’s brows furrow, and he shakes his head, his lips forming a brief, curt reply. But then, he glances up, and our eyes meet.
I can’t look away, though every instinct screams at me to. His gaze holds mine, sharp and unreadable, as though daring me to react. For a second, I think I catch the faintest flicker of amusement in his eyes. My grip on the champagne glass tightens. I feel exposed, as if he’s stripped me bare with that one look, laying all my bitterness and insecurities out for him to see.
And then, he does it. His arm curves around Annabelle’s waist, his movements deliberate, calculated. He leans down and murmurs something into her ear. Annabelle’s eyes widen briefly before she throws her head back in laughter, her voice carrying across the room. Heads turn in their direction, curious smiles blooming as if they’ve just witnessed a charming little piece of gossip they can spread tomorrow at lunch with the girls.
I can feel the stares shifting to me now, pity and judgment mingling in their glances. My heart pounds in my chest, each beat echoing like a drum. I force myself to take another sip of champagne, draining the glass in one long swallow. The bubbles do little to ease the burn rising in my throat.
I can’t do this. Not here, not now.
Without a word, I set the empty glass on the nearest tray and slip out of the room. The air grows colder as I run down the stairs and into the gardens. The chill bites at my exposed shoulders. But it’s quiet here. Peaceful.
I take deep breaths and wrap my arms around myself, staring out at the twinkling fairy lights strung across the hedges. My breath forms soft clouds in the air. I don’t want to cry. I can’t, but the lump in my throat forms all the same.
He’s punishing me once again, and truly, I am getting sick of it. It’s one thing to do it in the privacy of our townhome, but for him to so blatantly flirt with another woman in my vicinity and in the presence of the entire town burns in a way that makes it hard for me to breathe.
CHAPTER 34
EARL
The moment Raven storms out of the ballroom, hurt and anger etched into every inch of her expression, a ripple of satisfaction courses through me. Watching her simmer, watching her stew in frustration—it's a petty kind of victory, but a victory nonetheless. My gaze lingers on the door she disappeared through, but I force myself to stay rooted in place. Let her cool off. Or burn.
Either option suits me fine.
Annabelle is still beside me, laughing lightly at something one of the guests has said, but I barely hear her. Her presence, once mildly entertaining, has soured now that Raven is no longer watching. Even her laugh now grates on my nerves, each note a reminder that she doesn’t belong next to me or with me.