Page 50 of Violent Little Thing

Congrats, Baby

DELILAH

G littering sparklers on top of the round cake illuminate the script writing in the center: Congrats, baby .

After making it through dinner with nothing but a smile on my face, the first sting of happy tears taunts my nose.

Adonis claimed he stopped tracking my phone weeks ago, but apparently that didn’t extend to the laptop I used on his WiFi.

“ It was for a good cause ,” he said sheepishly when he helped me out of the car and congratulated me earlier.

The boyish charm sparkling in his eyes had been enough to distract me all through dinner. That and his continuous touch. His hands haven’t strayed from me all night and I haven’t wanted them to.

Right now, his long fingers circle my wrist while he stamps kisses over my pulse point. I adore the mindless graze of his lips over my heated skin while his eyes roam from my face to the restaurant around us then back again.

And I won’t get started on how my thoughts turn to mush when I see the gentle smile on his face as he pulls away.

Adonis might have taken me for selfish reasons, but nothing compares to the way he shows up for me. He’s the first man I’ve ever believed would hurt himself before he hurt me.

I’m safe.

I’m protected.

I’m loved.

For once in my life, I can say all those things without a shred of doubt in my mind.

Tonight proves it but so has every day leading up to tonight.

Picking up the cake knife, I slant my head to scope out the best place to cut without messing up the message in the middle.

Adonis lets me go and sets a cake plate in front of me.

But I never get to carve out my slice because a soft voice pulls our attention to the edge of the table.

“Hi, I’m so sorry to interrupt but I couldn’t leave without saying something.”

My hand freezes above the dessert at the same time Adonis goes rigid beside me.

Something about his tense posture pulls my focus from the woman staring at us and back to him.

And I regret it.

Because the unyielding set of his jaw and conveniently neutral look in his eyes set off the worst type of alarm bells.

Is she a woman he was seeing before ?

I didn’t get a good look at her, but I saw enough to know she’s attractive.

Brown-skinned. Medium height. Soft angles on a pretty face.

My only concern right now is Adonis and why his eyes narrow like he’s in enemy territory.

Definitely another woman.

It never crossed my mind that there would be women outside of Chiara I’d have to deal with.

Fuck . This is what I get for hyping up a man. Even if it was in my head.

Indigo taught me better than this.

Angling my body away from his, I stare at the woman, waiting for her or Adonis to speak again.

I tell myself I’m prepared for whatever comes next, but I’m a fucking liar.

The woman looks timid, fidgeting with the strap of her bag before she says, “Delilah, you look so beautiful.”

Why does she know my name?

I try to convey the question with my eyes when I burn a hole in the side of Adonis’ face, but he won’t look away from the woman.

It’s clear that he knows exactly who she is. And she knows who I am.

“Who are you?” My voice is so hard the woman’s smile slips.

“Delilah, I’m Elodie. I’ve been trying to reach you for weeks and I?—”

“Elodie?”

My mom? The woman who birthed me is standing in front of me looking nervous right now?

No .

All the steak I had for dinner starts a slow crawl up my esophagus.

It burns and I have to clamp my hand over my mouth to stop the retching sound.

When nausea makes my eyes water, the woman staring at me blurs.

This is a joke. It has to be.

What is she doing in Wildwood?

What are the odds of us being at the same restaurant?

Why did she walk up to us?

Did Adonis invite her?

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 me with 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 whip my 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.”