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Elijah leans closer, whispering something into Esther’s ear, who grazes his arm with her manicured index finger.

“Are you all right?”

I blink at the hostess, struggling to form a coherent response.

They’re all the same, aren’t they?

“No, thank you.” I stumble backward. I need to get out of here.

In my haste to escape, I collide with a waitress carrying a tray of drinks. The glasses crash to the floor, ice cubes and liquid splattering everywhere. Shit.

“I’m sorry.” I whip my head around, catching a glimpse of Elijah and Esther, their heads snapping in our direction. They can’t see me like this.

I drop down to help the waitress pick up the broken glass. As I clean up the mess I’ve caused, I lean forward to get a view of Elijah and—

A sharp pain shoots through my finger, and I hiss, blood dripping down onto the floor. Great, I’ve cut myself on a shard of glass.

The waitress notices concern etched across her face. “It’s alright, Ms.! Let me take care of this.”

The hostess also kneels beside me. “Accidents happen. Please don’t worry.” She wraps a napkin around my palm.

With one last furtive glance at Elijah and Esther, who haven’t spotted me in my crouched position, I crawl out the door.

“Please wait.” They call after me, but I don’t care. As soon as I’m outside, I stand up and haul a taxi.

This is so embarrassing.

As I get into a cab, I get another napkin from my purse and press harder on the cut to stop the bleeding while tears prick at my eyes.

My phone buzzes. Probably Mary checking on me. Perfect.

I pull out my phone, expecting to see Mary’s name. Instead, the display reads an unknown number.

“You’re letting your husband wait an awful lot of time.”

What?

My fingers tremble as I type an angry response, wanting nothing more than to tell him off for leading me on and then exchanging me with Esther of all the women he could have chosen.

Ready to hit the send button, I pause. No matter how much I try to ignore it, a small part of me still hopes that somehow, despite what I saw, there is an explanation.

Am I ignoring the signs again?

My thumb still hovers over the send button. This isn’t worth it.

Number blocked.

Chapter 11

Done. Another wave of inspiration used up.

I draw the last lines on a piece of paper, finishing up the sketch of a lace bra idea I got after waking up.

Stretching my arms out with a yawn, I swing around in my chair.

I take in the surrounding space, my new bedroom. The three months leading up to my new life here with Lil and Mary went by in a flash.

And I finally came around to decorate my room with furniture in shades of cream and taupe. Heavy silk curtains frame the view outside the windows. Everything is crisp and clean, from the plush rug to the sleek desk, room divider and wardrobe.

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