Page 124

Is that why he wanted us to come out tonight?

For every new question that invades my mind, my grip on reality slips. I’m hanging precariously at the end of my rope when I find my voice again and aim my vitriol at the man beside me.

“Did you invite her?”

A hint of hurt enters his gaze at my icy tone before he shakes his head. “No, baby. I didn’t invite her. I would never take that choice away from you.”

He’s a liar.

That’s what my head wants me to believe. It’s a small miracle, but my heart knows better. The genuine confusion on his face tells me that, and so does the protective hand that goes to my knee, anchoring me because he knows I’m spiraling.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you. I’m in town for a conference and I felt compelled to say something when the waiter said your name earlier.” The woman falters. “I…really wanted to hear your voice.”

It shouldn’t be surprising that she’s selfish, putting her wants above all else. She left mewith Satan when I was a baby and couldn’t defend myself. She didn’t care then. Now she wants to hear my voice?

Vicious laughter bubbles in my throat, unchecked and unhinged. This isn’t funny. None of this shit is funny.

I thought I wanted to meet her. But not like this.

She doesn’t deserve to take up space on this day.

I shouldn’t be able to hear the blood rushing in my ears.

Shouldn’t be able to feel my molars grinding and locking my jaw.

Shouldn’t be able to feel ants dancing across my skin.

But I do.

I do and I don’t want to feel anything. See anything. Hear anything.

“I wish you hadn’t said anything.” My voice cracks while my mouth runs dry. Two signs that I should stop talking. But I can’t. “I was having such a good night. You should’ve just left me alone.”

“Delilah.” My name comes out choked, an unfamiliar pain clinging to every syllable.

Instead of leaning in to why that makes my heart ache, I turn to Adonis.

“I’m ready to go,” I whisper through trembling lips.

“Okay.”

I don’t tear my eyes away from him when he inclines his head in silent communication to our uninvited guest.

Next, he flags down the waiter with the hand not massaging my thigh under the table.

Moisture trickles down my cheeks the longer I stare at him. It doesn’t occur to me that I’m crying until Adonis thumbs the tears away.

A while later, a distant voice not belonging to Elodie breaks through to my muddled mind. It’s only then I whipmy eyes back in that direction to find our waiter occupying the space.

At last, a small semblance of relief washes over me.

“What can I get for you two?”

While my knee jumps under the table, Adonis gestures toward the cake.

“We need a box for this.”

Chapter 47