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“Work. I’m going toworkbecause it’s a Wednesday morning. People tend to go to work at this time,” she responds, looking over her glasses, taking in our outfits. I’m pretty sure my makeup is smudged, and my hair looks like a rat’s nest. Moreen sighs loudly before shaking her head.
“Get in. I’ll take you home because I can’t stand the second-hand embarrassment of people catching the sight of you two.” I nod my head before walking towards her car. A ride sounds great about now because my stomach isn’t doing that well and my head isn’t either.
“I’m about two minutes from my home. So, I’m going to walk,” Topper says, waving his hand before turning to the left.
“Goodbye, Topper,” I say before crawling into Moreen’s luxurious car. The interior is a crème white leather. The second my butt hits the comfy seat, I begin to feel pulses of pain and exhaustion shooting up my feet. It’s a miracle I made it this far in the heels I’m wearing. I turn my head to look at Moreen, who still has a glare of disgust mixed with disbelief on her face.
“Thanks for the ride,” I say.
“You’re welcome. Just don’t vomit all over my car.” She turns to face the front before getting back onto the road. For a second, I want to tell her where I live, but then I remember Chester is friends with Moreen, and we do live on the same street.
“So, how was your night out?” she asks. Her voice is lower than mine, but it suits her perfectly. A true alpha female. Shoulders pushed back, a stare that makes you want to curl into yourself, and confidence. So much confidence. It makes me proud to know this woman, even though she hasn’t been that nice to me.
“Amazing.” I smile, dropping my head against the window before closing my eyes.
“You don’t look that amazing, though.” She doesn’t use a joking tone; no, Moreen means it and doesn’t shy away from a harsh fact.
“Thanks. Right now, I would have appreciated a white lie more than the truth. I feel like shit, and apparently, I look like it too.”
“White lies are terrible, Evangeline. The truth is what you really want and sometimes need.”
“Maybe, but still, I wanted you to tell me how beautiful I look, even when it’s a lie, and I probably look like a troll.” She chuckles softly, but it feels dishonest. I open my eyes, and I take in her face. There’s tension and tiredness around her eyes and lips that are not lifted in a smile.
“How are you, Moreen?”
“Great,” she mumbles, but I sense that she’s lying. I know when a woman hides behind empty answers. I do it all the time. There’s more going on, and it reminds me of our last conversation, the one where she mentioned the need to escape life once in a while.
“Are you really?” I whisper. Out of the corner of my eye, I see her look my way. Her face drops and pain moves over her face before she turns her attention back to the road. I don’t think she would have made that expression if I hadn't given her the illusion that I wasn’t looking.
“Just having some problems at home,” she says softly, but in the silent car, it sounds like she’s sharing her deepest, darkest secret.
“With Sebastian?”
“Yes.” It doesn’t come as a surprise anymore. I’m just sad that for once the rumours Topper told me are true.
“Do you love him?”
“Sebastian? No. Never,” she answers truthfully, and I already feel my heart warming up to the woman with the strong act.
“So, you didn’t get married because you loved each other?”
“No. I married him because I lost someone dear to my heart, and it was Sebastian who had everything to offer. But I didn’t know I had signed my life away to the devil until a few months later.” Her answer resonates with me.
In my case, it’s Frederic pressuring me to marry someone I don’t know, but here, it sounds as if Moreen decided on her own. It still makes my heart shrink, though, because she must have been nothing short of desperate to actually marry Sebastian, her husband she never loved.
I only hope she’s the one making her decisions and not someone else. But every time I’ve met this fierce woman, she looks absolutely miserable. And this is the difference between Moreen and me: she doesn’t need to hide how bitter she is. How miserable her life is. She shows every negative emotion while I hide behind a layer of expensive clothes and practiced smiles.
But I do feel connected to her because our situations are similar, but Moreen is married already, and I have time left before I’ll be a wife as well.
“I hope it gets better soon.”
“I hope so too,” she whispers, even though she sounds as if she’s already given up.
A minute later, she drives onto my street, and I sigh from relief because I desperately need my bed. Moreen stops in front of my house. I reach for my door handle, but before I push it open, she speaks.
“Get married because you're in love, Evangeline. Don’t let anyone decide for you, and even if it looks like every road leads to a dead end, there are always ways out of that maze. They might not be obvious now, but they are there.” I stare her way, hearing her speak from the heart. She doesn’t know what is going on in my life, but I memorise her every word, wishing that I could see a light in my dark tunnel.
“Thanks again for the ride,” I say, before closing the door and ending the amazing night I had. A night of celebrating freedom by dancing until my feet started to ache, until my jaw started to hurt from laughing with Topper and my voice became hoarse from singing too loud. A last hurrah, and it was a memorable one.
