Page 79 of Mine

She’s dead, I remind myself. She doesn’t care that I just had sex with her husband.

But her ghost does . . .

I shake away the thought and hightail it to a coffee shop across the street.

I’ve kept my eye on the clock like a maniac, careful to stay within my allotted time of ninety minutes. I only have twenty minutes remaining when I spot a fancy jewelry store on the corner. The devil awakens on my shoulder. Grinning, I push through the glass doors.

Cillian doesn’t join me. Instead, he waits outside, taking his millionth call of the day.

A beautiful salesclerk with long blond hair, aqua-blue eyes, and impossibly long legs greets me with a warm smile. She offers champagne, which I accept (obviously), and before I know it, Barbie is guiding me through each counter, describing in detail each glittering piece of jewelry. Each piece has a story. Each piece, priceless.

I want them all. Every single one.

I’m on my third glass of champagne when a loud trill vibrates through the air. It startles us—me and the salesclerk—and takes me a moment to realize it’s the cell phone in my pocket.

“Excuse me.”

I slide out the phone and click it on. But before I can lift it to my ear, I hear Astor’s voice bellowing from the other end. He is not happy.

“What the fuck are you doing?”

His scream is so aggressive that a rush of adrenaline shoots up my spine, both fear and embarrassment coloring my cheeks.

Barbie’s eyes widen. Humiliated, I turn away and step into the corner like a whipped dog.

“Answer me, goddamn it, what are you doing? You were supposed to be home eleven minutes ago!”

Home.

My gaze darts to Cillian, now chatting with a young woman outside.

Have I really been in this store for over an hour? How many times did Barbie refill my glass? More than three?

Shit.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper-hiss. “I’m—we’re still here, in town.”

“I know exactly where you are, and it’s not here where you should be.”

Great. He must have the cell-phone location tracker turned on.

“Why are you so mad?” I ask, baffled at the emotion and wondering if there is something else going on. Because who would be this mad at tardiness?

“Why am I—Sabine, if you’re not standing in my office in fifty-three minutes, I swear to God, I will?—”

“Okay, okay.” I disconnect the call and sprint out of the store.

Forty-Eight

Sabine

During the drive back to Stone Manor, my emotions are all over the place.

I feel anxiety that I’ll get “home” and my small bag of belongings will be on the stoop, next to a note that reads go away and never come back. I feel disappointment because I have, once again, royally screwed things up. And lastly, I feel anger because he has made me feel these emotions.

It’s a jarring realization of how crazy I am for this man, and how much emotional power he has over me. With him, I am both my most confident, bold self, and also my weakest, most insecure self. It’s a confusing—and maddening—combination.

By the time I storm into his office, I’ve settled on one emotion—anger—and so has he.

---