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Winnie drops her mask altogether. I make a move to catch it, but I see it’s attached to her wrist by a loop. “You’re Angela…” She points at Angel before turning fiery eyes on me. “You knew this whole time?”
I catch her pointed finger in my fist. “Whatever you’re about to say, I’d advise you to stop right now and rethink it.”
Her chest rises and falls fast, but she presses her lips together in a tight line.
Angel’s cheeks flush, and she leans into my shoulder. “Would you get me a drink, please?”
I hesitate, looking from her to my aunt. “Of course. White wine?”
She shakes her head. “Ginger ale would be fine.”
I’m puzzled by her choice, but I’m sure it has more to do with my prejudiced aunt’s stereotypes than anything. “Winnie, would you like a drink?”
My aunt is not smiling. “Vodka rocks.”
“You got it.” Lifting her hand, I kiss Angel’s knuckles. It feels like she’s trying to get rid of me, but before I head for the nearest drink station, I look at my aunt. “Don’t ruin this.”
“I can’t even begin to guess what you mean.”
“You know what I mean.” I lower my brow. “Angel is important to me.”
“Deacon, I have no intention of ruining anything.”
“Good.” I linger with my hand on Angel’s back, but her eyes are downcast. Exhaling a breath, I give her a little pat. “I’ll be right back.”
I want to trust Angel knows what she’s doing, but I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t concerned. Avoiding any familiar faces, I make my way quickly to the beverage station, keeping my eyes on the women.
28
Angel
Deacon moves swiftly through the crowd, glancing back every few moments. He’s stunning in a tuxedo with his dark hair swept back, his blue eyes glowing with love, lined with concern.
Rather than dancing around the elephant in the room, I decide to get this over with fast. Rip off the band-aid.
“I know you’re angry.” I remove the mask from my face, meeting Winnie’s narrowed gaze.
“You lied to me.”
“I did no such thing.”
“You were at my house, day after day, and you never said a word.” Her voice is cold, and I can’t tell if she’s angry or hurt.
“You never asked.” I’m doing my best to be non-confrontational.
I want her to say whatever she has to say, and I want Deacon to be right—I want us to be friends. We’re going to be family.
“That’s so like your kind. So smug.” Her arms cross. “You took my money today and never said a word about seeing my nephew or me tonight.”
“My kind…” I exhale shaking my head. “I accepted payment for my artistic service. My personal life is not your business.”
She sniffs, lifting her chin. “And is that his?”
Her eyes drop to my waist, and my chest tightens. “Yes.”
“Now it makes sense. Deacon is the most eligible bachelor in the city. He could be with any woman here tonight. Of course, he’s doing the right thing.”
“He doesn’t know about it yet.” I resent the implication I’m using my pregnancy to trap him.
