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The lounge is empty.
“Amelia, wait.”
I stop by the dining table, just as another sound comes from the kitchen.
“Amelia,” Jude breathes, blocking my path. He takes the tops of my arms, holding me in place, hunkering down to see me. “Before you—”
I wrench myself out of his grip and storm past him.
“Amelia,” he shouts, sounding panicked as he follows me. “Listen to me.”
I screech to a stop on the threshold of the kitchen when I find a woman at the oak island, a wineglass at her lips.
“Katherine,” I breathe, as she turns on her stool, crossing one leg over the other.
“Fuck.” Jude meets my back, taking my elbow. I shrug him off, noting Katherine’s shoes. Red stilettos.
“I thought ...” My head spins. “I thought you were in the bar with Rob.”
“Oh,” she says, her voice sickeningly low. Smug. Her red lips stretch wide. “Is he having drinks with his plaything?”
Plaything.
“Oh my God.” I step back, meeting Jude’s chest.
“Amelia, I—”
“Do not tell me to listen to you,” I warn, the pain in my chest unbearable, but my anger is keeping me from folding to the floor in despair.
“Please, listen to me,” Jude pleads, trying to turn me to face him.
“I said don’t!” I push him away. I don’t want him anywhere near me. The island is set for two to eat. Two plates half-eaten. Two wineglasses. There’s a pan on the stove, some spices in jars by a chopping board. He’s cooked for her? My eyes find Katherine. “Are you still sleeping with him?” I ask.
“Amelia.” Jude appears in front of me again, bending to get my eyes.
I look at him with a cool, fixed expression. “I’m not talking to you,” I say, equally as cool as I move aside, getting Katherine back in my sights. “Are you still sleeping with him?”
She slowly places her glass down and looks at Jude next to me. And for the first time, I ask myself why he hasn’t refuted it, whether I asked him or not. “Well?”
“No,” Jude answers. It’s too little too late.
“No?” I ask. “Then what’s this?” I motion to the island, where they’ve been enjoying dinner.
“Tell her, Jude.” Katherine sounds almost bored, sipping her wine casually.
“Tell me what?”
Jude’s jaw pulses as he fires Katherine a death glare. “Shut up, Katherine.”
“Tell me what?” I yell, feeling my control slipping.
“You were a bet, sweetheart,” she coos.
“Katherine!”
“We saw you out with friends. You’re welcome, by the way.”
“For fuck’s sake,” Jude curses, physically lifting me from my feet to get me away from the poisonous tongue of his lover. His lover. His married lover, whose husband is downstairs playing footsie with his plaything. What the hell kind of nightmare am I in? My brain spasms, and what she’s just said drops in my brain like a bomb. They saw me out with friends.