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The woman tuts, as the designer stands up to inspect my piece.
He makes comments about composition. Texture. The juxtaposition of style and subject.
My poor heart sinks.
To hear someone talk so positively about my work, completely unguarded… That’s something special.
But right now, it just feels like a whole new brand of torture.
King slowly lowers himself into his seat.
His head turns in my direction, and I brace myself. But he doesn’t meet my eyes, he just slides my plate closer to me and says, “Eat your food.”
I don’t want to. I really don’t want to. But I also don’t want to be told twice. So, while the rest of the room discusses art, I clear my plate. Only barely stifling a groan when the servers come back and replace the entrée plates with small dishes of peach cobbler, topped with ice cream. It’s one of my favorite desserts, and I swear, if tonight ruins one more thing for me, I’m going to just start screaming.
“Coffee?” a server asks.
“Oh god no.” I reply, before I can think better of it. “Sorry,” I grimace, when I realize everyone has stopped to look at me. “I’d be up all night.”
It’s mostly true. But it’s more the fact that I don’t want to be awake for this day a single second longer than I have to.
The final course passes with King and I eating in silence while Aspen talks about some upcoming charity event with her guests. It seems weird, Aspen being charitable, but I suppose people with this much money need hobbies.
When the chatter ofwe should probably head homestarts, I could weep with joy.
Rising at the same time as King, I do my best to act like a happy new wife, promising to come to whatever event it is they’re talking about.
With his palm against my spine, we follow the group to the front door. And I think we’re finally ready to escape. I think that we’re about to get out, without any more drama. Without Aspen knowing the dark history behind her anniversary gift. But, as I’m about to step through the threshold, King grips the material of my shirt stopping me.
“I’ll be just one moment.”
I spin around, away from the door I want to sprint through. “King. Don’t.”
But he doesn’t listen, he just strides back through the house.
“What have you done?” Aspen hisses, scaring the shit out of me.
“Christ!” I take a step backwards, clutching my hands to my chest. I thought she was still outside saying goodbye to people. “I haven’t done anything!”
Maybe now is when I should screamI never fucked your husband. But somehow, I don’t think she’ll believe me. No matter what I say. No matter what the truth is.
Aspen continues to glare at me, until her attention snaps to King, who’s striding back down the hall toward us, with my painting tucked under his arm.
“What the hell are you…” Aspen starts, before turning wide eyes on me. “SJO.” She breathes out the initials I sign all my paintings with, proving that she liked it enough to memorize the signature. “You put your fucking art in my home.”
The anger in her tone is laced with hurt. And I want to apologize. Or cry. Or do anything. But I don’t. I just stand there.
“Savannah didn’t do shit,” King growls. “But this is mine now.”
Stomping past his sister, King grabs my arm and drags me away from the woman who looks like she’d love to turn me into a corpse.
CHAPTER30
King
I keepmy teeth clenched together, driving at a sedate pace out of my sister’s neighborhood.
That fucking painting.
