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My words are kind, but my tone is like icy shards shooting from a cannon, preparing to do maximum damage.
Mary waves her manicured hand between their bodies, dismissing the thanks. “It was nothin’.” She bats her eyes up at Isaac. “I just hope you like it. It is award-winnin’, after all.”
I scoff.
Isaac shoots me a withering glare.
I barely suppress a foot stomp.
Mary ignores everything, spins in place, and guides her own damn self through our home as though she has a right to. “Let’s get that pie in the oven, or it won’t keep.”
The only thing missing from her demand is a haughty snap over her shoulder but like the good God-fearing woman I am, I smile. Isaac shakes his head at me and turns to follow her. The second I see his back, I drop the mask, flipping them both off with the hand not poking holes in the pie crust.
Fuck fearing God.
The only thing anyone should fear is my foot up Mary’s power-walking ass.
I stare up at my bedroom ceiling, my hands braced on my stomach. I try to focus on the way my hands rise and fall with every breath, but I can’t.
All I can think about is the disappointment in Isaac’s eyes last night as I abruptly shoved my chair back and declared I needed to go to bed. The way his jaw had ticked and his hand had tightened around his fork. The way Mary’s eyes had shimmered, like she was happy to get rid of me.
And she probably was.
Inwardly, I groan and throw my arm over my eyes. Isaac didn’t come to my room to reprimand me after she left. He hadn’t even checked on me while I was cleaning the kitchen, or after he locked up the house before bed. He always at least pokes his head in to say goodnight, but not last night.
Instead, I’d stepped out of my room at ten, fully anticipating finding him sitting at the kitchen table, waiting for me to emerge so he could scold me. A weird pang of disappointment shot through my belly at the sight of the cold, dark kitchen. At the empty chair at the head of the table.
Was it weird I wanted him to say something? That a part of me craved his scolding. His discipline.
Dinner with Mary had been exactly as awful as I’d thought it would be. She hadn’t shut up about herself, or the way she was changing lives in church.
It had been damn near impossible to keep my eye roll in check at that.
Apart from listening to people’s problems, she doesn’t do all that much. Don’t get it twisted—she loves listening to their problems. If you want to know what’s happening in town, all you have to do is ask Mary. She’s like a walking, talking gossip encyclopedia of Divinity Falls, hence her new column in the town paper: Ask Mary. Another thing she prattled on about last night.
I snort at the thought. Oli will have a field day when she finds out.
A soft knock pulls me from my thoughts, and I shoot up in bed. My fingers tangle in my yellow comforter, my heart slamming against my rib cage, already knowing who’s at my door.
“Eve?” Isaac murmurs, his voice thick with something unfamiliar.
“Yes?” I call back, gripping the blanket even tighter as my brain all but blanks out.
His fingers drum across the wood separating us, and a heavy weight falls on my shoulders.
“May I come in?” he asks before clearing his throat. “We need to talk.”
Swallowing thickly, I toss my legs over the edge of the bed and push to my feet. The old wooden floor creaks beneath my weight. My hands instinctively smooth down the flowy blue and white summer dress I threw on after my shower. It has a low neckline, and the hem hits mid-thigh.
It’s one of the dresses I reserve for when Isaac’s not home, but it’s so hot today, and my mind has been in the clouds since I woke up.
Dammit. I should have worn something more appropriate. I knew this was coming.
I knew this was coming.
Fuck.
What does that say about me?
