Page 23 of Absolution (Favorite Malady Trilogy #3)

ABIGAIL

One week later

M y teeth worry at my lower lip. “Do you think this was a mistake? Should I have waited for everything to settle down a bit before opening?”

Dane steps in front of me, his bulky body blocking the anxiety-inducing view of the small crowd outside. Through the glass frontage of my gallery, I can see at least three dozen people gathered on the sidewalk.

Two long fingers curl beneath my chin, lifting my gaze to his. “The caterers are almost finished setting up,” he informs me calmly. “But I can send them away if you want me to. I can go out there and tell people that the event is postponed. Whatever you need from me, say the word.”

I search his deep green eyes for signs of worry, but I’m the only one feeling anxious.

“What if they’re all here because of the article?” I ask, strained. “I want tonight to be about my art, not about my trauma.”

I’d anticipated some local interest in my story when I leaked the recording of my mother’s confession to a journalist, but for the last two days, I’ve been dodging calls from national news networks requesting interviews.

My mother’s shocking callousness coupled with my uncle’s heinous abuse seems to have hit a nerve with people online, and the original article is going viral.

Add in the rotten entitlement and privilege of a dying American dynasty, and the scandal is attracting more attention than I was prepared to deal with.

“The why doesn’t matter,” Dane insists. “Maybe they’re curious because of the article, but they will see your brilliance, and your art will become the focal point. And if anyone wants to ask you an inappropriate question, I’ll be right by your side all night to make sure they don’t dare.”

I swallow hard. “I don’t want the success of my gallery opening to be because of him .”

Dane’s eyes flash. “Your success belongs to you , Abigail, not your uncle. Those people are here because of your bravery.”

I take a deep breath, finding calm in his staunch support. Then I nod. “I can do this. But I have one thing I need to do before we unlock the door.”

I take his hand in mine and lead him toward the center of the gallery, where I have a large painting covered with a cloth.

He cocks his head at me. “Don’t you want to wait to unveil this one? You can build some anticipation for the end of the night.”

“No. This one is for you.”

I tug the cloth free, revealing the scene I captured for him. For us.

Lighting forks over white capped waves, and the horizon darkens in blue gradients to a rich navy shade at the horizon.

Red rose petals float in the foreground, whipped up by the incoming tempest. The hint of a gossamer veil flits at the right edge of the canvas, and the elegant curve of a violin peeks above the frame at the bottom left corner.

His jaw goes slack for a long moment, then tightens with unmistakable hunger. His fingers clamp around mine, dragging me closer to his side. He’s staring at my art as though it’s the most fascinating thing he’s ever seen, and I drink in the perfection of his covetous stare.

“It’s not for sale,” I tell him. “But I wanted to show everyone how much I love you.”

My love for him is fiercely beautiful, as powerful and awe-inspiring as the storm. Maybe a little terrifying in its intensity. Definitely dangerous.

But Dane will always shield me from harm. The only danger he poses is to anyone who might try to separate us.

I’ll do anything to keep and defend him too, even if I’m not as strong as he is physically.

My love for him has made me a little more vicious, but I’m becoming more comfortable with my newfound ferocity. I’m powerful in my own right. I don’t have to wear false smiles or bend over backwards to please others.

My happiness is genuine, even if that means it’s a little sharper than the fake cheer I used to present to the rest of the world.

Dane finally tears his gaze from the painting so that his eyes meet mine. His handsome features split in a wild, silly grin, and he brushes his thumb over my unicorn badge in an offhand display of affection.

He’s helped me find my strength, but I’ve softened something in him.

Well, only for me. I don’t think my fierce, psychopathic husband will ever be soft for anyone else.

The knowledge only makes me that much more enamored with him.

“We should probably let everyone in,” I breathe, even though all I want is to linger in this moment with him.

He drops a quick kiss on my lips. “We’ll celebrate your success properly later.”

It’s a dark, sensual promise, and my pulse quickens.

“Don’t do that to me right now!” I protest with a giggle. “I don’t want to be a flustered mess when I’m greeting people.”

His grin sharpens, unrepentant. “I like when you’re flustered for me. But I’ll make you a mess when we’re alone at home.”

“Dane!” I scold, but I loop my arm through his.

He escorts me through the gallery, toward the glass door and the waiting crowd.

He just chuckles, a slightly cruel promise.

I hold my head high, and his low laugh morphs into a satisfied hum. “There’s my queen,” he praises. “I’m so proud of you.”

I flush with pleasure, but before I can reply, he unlocks the door.

The next hour flies by in a haze of compliments and Champagne toasts. The entire night seems surreal: a dream I never dared to indulge before meeting Dane.

A few people mention the article, but they keep it to brief, respectful comments of solidarity and support. Dane’s warning glower ensures that no one discusses my trauma in detail.

A commotion at the door, pierces my happy bubble. I recognize my mother’s haughty voice, slurring slightly from indulging in too much wine.

“You can’t stop me from seeing Abby,” she insists. “I am her mother.”

She says it like that gives her the authority to do anything she wants to me, as though she holds power over me by some sort of divine right.

“I’ll handle this,” Dane promises, voice dropping to that flat, cold register that makes my spine tingle in primal warning.

I push past him. “No. I will.”

As I near the door, I note that one of the catering staff is blocking my mother’s entrance. He’s considerably bulkier than the other servers, and I realize that Dane probably hired him as discreet security. The man is acting as a bouncer, physically preventing my mom from stepping into the gallery.

“What are you doing here, Mama?” I ask, my own voice cold and carefully controlled.

Her cheeks are red, and I’m not sure if she’s flushed from alcohol or rage. Probably both.

“You won’t answer my calls,” she seethes. “How else was I supposed to talk to my daughter?”

“I haven’t answered because I blocked your number,” I reply coolly. “I don’t want any further contact from you.”

“You little bitch!” she seethes, going almost purple. Her ice blue eyes flash in her fury-darkened face, even though her features are eerily frozen. “How dare you speak to me that way? We’re family.”

“Not anymore.” I straighten my shoulders. “We are related by blood, and I can’t change that. But you are not my family. You gave up that right when you failed me as a mother.”

“You have ruined us!” she shrieks. “You ruined the family name.”

My fists furl at my sides. “ The family name . That’s all you’ve ever cared about. But I didn’t ruin anything. Uncle Jeffrey did that. You did that when you didn’t protect me from him.”

“You betrayed your blood,” she thunders. “Blood is everything.”

I narrow my eyes at her. “That’s bullshit, and I’m not buying into it anymore. I’ve chosen my family, and you are not part of it.”

Her eyes blaze as they fix on Dane, who stands behind me. He’s allowing me to deal with this confrontation while still supporting me with his menacing presence.

“You’ve done this.” She hurls the accusation at him. “You turned my daughter against me.”

“You alienated me all on your own,” I say coldly.

“I cut you off two years before Dane came into my life, remember? You might’ve pretended that we weren’t estranged for the sake of appearances, but I chose to live without your toxicity.

I chose to be completely alone rather than suffering through a relationship with you. ”

I lace my fingers through Dane’s. I’m not alone anymore. And I never will be again.

“You’re making a scene,” I inform my mother. She’s been too incensed and inebriated to notice that several phones are pointed in her direction, recording her narcissistic outburst.

Her gaze darts around the room, noting dozens of eyes fixed squarely on her with clear disapproval.

Her shoulders dip, and her eyes shine.

For a moment, my heart gives a painful beat, and some of my righteous rage ebbs.

Despite everything she’s done to me, she was a victim too. That doesn’t change the fact that she failed me in the worst way. It doesn’t change the lifetime of abuse.

But I have to acknowledge that her cruelty and narcissism comes from a place of pain.

“You should leave now, Mama,” I say, tone gentler.

“Go where?” she asks raggedly. “No one will take my calls. I’ve lost all my friends. I have no one left. They’ve turned their backs on me, Abby. You’re my daughter, my flesh and blood. You can’t abandon me too.”

“I’m sorry for what you’ve been through,” I say truthfully. “But I can’t have you in my life. I choose me. You have properties all over the country. You can leave South Carolina and start fresh somewhere else.”

“This is my home!” she almost wails. “I can’t leave Elysium.”

“That’s your choice,” I reply evenly. “What you do now is not my responsibility.”

“Leave,” Dane commands. “This conversation is over. Never contact my wife again.”

Mama casts a panicked gaze around the room, as though searching for an ally.

No one steps forward to defend her.

Her reputation is in tatters, and she will not find welcome in Charleston society ever again. Especially not after this public outburst.

I search my heart and find that I don’t feel a shred of vindictive pleasure at her utter devastation. All I feel for her is compassion and more than a little pity.

Dane’s arm loops around my waist, and I lean into him as my mother turns and flees.

I’m with my family now, and the woman disappearing into the humid night will never bother me again.