Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 86322 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 432(@200wpm)___ 345(@250wpm)___ 288(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 86322 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 432(@200wpm)___ 345(@250wpm)___ 288(@300wpm)
“Nothing.” I shook my head and relaxed my features, diverting my attention. I picked up a crushed blue velvet pillow that reminded me of a photo I saw of her couch in her old apartment and wondered if she’d like this around our home. Even hearing the words in my head—our home—sent my thoughts fumbling before coming up with an excuse to be staring so intently. “I just never expected you to go out of your way for my godparents.”
“Why not?”
“Because…” I put the pillow down and considered my answer.
The reality was that I compared every woman to Daria, and she would never have gone out of her way for my family. That kind of caring was something I had always hoped my wife would do when I’d imagined my marriage.
But I couldn’t admit—even to myself—any connection between Aspen and the woman I dreamed of marrying when I was younger.
“Because it wasn’t part of our agreement,” I claimed instead, my words harsher than I intended. “All you needed to do was pretend to be my wife. Not make the rest of my family fall in love with you.”
Her head jerked back as if my words landed a physical blow, with features pulled into a frown. But then…she did that magical thing I’d witnessed time and again—her face smoothed into cool indifference. The problem was that now I saw past her false control and knew that a myriad of emotions from hurt to anger brewed beneath—and knew it was my fault.
“I thought you said that this was a real marriage, and I was a real wife.” I opened my mouth, but she cut me off. “And it’s not like I’m trying to make them fall in love with me. I’m just being a decent human. And, just because you’re so averse to loving someone doesn’t mean everyone else is,” she snapped, successfully calling me out for my shit before walking away.
I sighed, knowing I should follow her. It was just that watching her interact with my family increased the heat simmering under my skin, a heat I kept trying to ignore. On top of that, witnessing how much they cared added a whole new layer of guilt. I hadn’t expected them to accept her and become so close.
As if lying to them hadn’t weighed on me enough, the thought of their reaction when Aspen left in five years banded around my chest, constricting the air to my lungs.
“Lucian?” a familiar voice called, flooding me with the usual rush of anger that coiled around my muscles, pulling them tight.
I drew a deep breath and borrowed a page from Aspen’s book, sliding on a mask of cool indifference. There was no way in hell I was letting her see how much that voice still affected me.
Because it didn’t.
I gave my head a sharp mental shake and reminded myself how much better my life was now than when I’d been a naïve romantic. I turned, taking in the same face from almost fifteen years ago. A little older, but still smoothly polished like the perfect trophy she always wanted to be.
Except…
My gaze dropped to find her swollen stomach.
The sight slammed into me, a brutal hit to the solar plexus that threatened to crack my carefully controlled expression.
Almost.
Scanning back up, I made my tone as cold as her blue eyes. “Daria.”
“Oh, my god,” she practically squealed. “What are the chances of us running into each other here? I hadn’t even planned to come, but then my friend Sarah told me about this sale, and I figured, why not?”
“Wow. Fascinating,” I said, struggling to piece together the bitch who threatened to ruin me and the bubbly Stepford wife smiling as if we were old friends. Then again, I shouldn’t have been surprised. She’d always been delusional and self-centered. It explained why she still occasionally tried to talk to Grace at charity events they both attended. It explained why she stood there rambling on and on without considering that I’d imagined her being hit by a car at least ten times by now.
“And then, John…ugh.” She laughed, unaware of how that name increased my ire. “He picked out a crib that was just so over the top. But you remember how he is—always going above and beyond. Especially for our little one.”
John. My best friend from college. The man Daria had an affair with for most of our marriage. Apparently, the man who managed to stick it out despite her being a soul-sucking bitch.
I hummed a noncommittal sound and tried to smile, but knew it looked more like a grimace.
“So, what about you? What brings you here? You’re not exactly the go shopping for apartment décor over the weekend kind of guy,” she rambled without giving room to respond before continuing. “Did Grace send you? Of course, it was Grace. It had to be because it couldn’t be anyone else. I know you too well to ever think you’d have gotten married again.”