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“Oh, you realized he’s not home?” she asked, her voice dipped in venom. “It’s interesting to see the things you notice if you can be bothered to be here.”
He shot her a quick glance, and undid the top two shirt buttons. “Forget I asked.”
“No,” she shouted, slamming down the glass so hard the translucent, gold liquid sloshed out, landing in a small puddle on the counter. “You don’t get to tell me what to do, on the rare occasions when Miss Bambi lets you off leash.”
“Jeez, woman,” he said, running his hands through his hair. “And you’re wondering why the hell I don’t want to come home anymore?” She stared at him, defiantly, inviting him to continue if he dared. “This is not a home; this is pure hell! I’d rather spend my evenings with my murderous clients, waiting for their bail to be posted. Yeah… I’d rather spend time in jail than here with you,” he added, his voice back to his normal pitch reserved for the courtroom. Cold, factual, uncompromising, every word a stab into her heart.
Without another word, Natalie crossed the large oriental rug to the chair where Edward had abandoned his jacket and briefcase. She unlocked the latches with a loud pop, opening the briefcase and rummaging through it.
“Hey,” Edward shouted. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”
Frantic, she searched under the stack of papers and inside the pocket, but didn’t find the condoms she knew he used to have with him. “Where are they, Edward?” she asked, turning to face him when she sensed he was near.
He looked at her with a strange expression in his eyes. It was surprise, disgust, but also pity. No trace of the love that used to be… nothing. “They’re gone, Natalie. I don’t use them anymore.”
A million things wanted to be spoken, choking her. Rage demanded she asked whether Bambi—or whatever her name was this time—was using an IUD now. Logic wanted her to probe and find where else he would stash his condoms, out of her reach, so she couldn’t keep track of how many he used.
The hurt wife who’d been cheated on and still loved him won the battle.
“I don’t believe you,” she eventually said, leaning against the wall for support. Her knees felt weak, shaky.
“What do you want from me, Natalie?” he calmly asked again, stopping in front of her with his hands on his hips. “No matter what I say, I make you mad. If you want me gone, just say the word.”
The thought of spending endless days wandering alone through the cottage, drink in hand, made the bile rise in her throat. Tears threatened to break open the floodgates, turning her voice brittle. “I want my son back. And I want you to stay.”
Edward sighed and turned away, staring out the window for a moment. It was getting dark outside. “You pushed him away,” he said factually. “You need to stop with the shouting matches. He’s just a kid. Our fights are too much for him to take.”
Of course, it was all on her. Typical Edward… damn narcissists, it was never their fault, even when it was.
“You cheated on me,” she said, the words hissed with undertones of rage. “And he still blames me. This isn’t fair.”
He drew closer to her, reaching out with both hands to touch her shoulders. “Life isn’t fair, Nat. Never was, never will be.” Feeling his hands through the thin fabric of her blouse sent a wave of irritation through her bloodstream. She wasn’t ready for closeness yet. Not when every time she closed her eyes, she saw him fucking that skinny bimbo hard and fast, just the way he liked it.
She pulled away and looked at him intently. “Make him come home or I’ll report him as a missing person. I’ll get the cops involved if you can’t handle your own son.”
Slack-jawed, Edward stared at her for a long moment. She turned on her heel and walked away. As she reached the stairs, she heard an object crashing into the bar’s glass shelves, bringing everything down in a thunderous explosion of shards.
She didn’t look back.
It must’ve been Edward’s glass, thrown at the wall in a fit of rage. He had very poor impulse control, just like Richard.
TWENTY-NINE
MACKENZIE
The setting sun’s colors were starting to lay colors on Wildfire Ridge, threatening darkness the moment it would disappear behind the hills. Nightfall was quick in mountain regions.
Elliot drove to Mackenzie Trenton’s place fast, making her queasy, but she didn’t lift her eyes from the pages of Jenna’s diary.
April 20
My name is whore.
Tramp. Slut. Floozy. Harlot.
That’s what they call me, wherever I go. Whatever I do.
Not to my face, because that would take courage, and they’re nothing but cowards. I know that, but it still hurts. I thought they were my friends.
