Page 35 of Such A Good Girl

The spatula clattered into the pan. Beverley rounded on me, a deep frown on her face. ‘Listen to me, you ungrateful whore. I told him not to marry you. I warned him you weren’t wife material. And he didn’t listen to me.’

My nostrils flared as I took a steadying breath, desperately wanting to smack her right in the face.

‘I can tell that you want to leave, petal, but you can’t.’

‘If I want to divorce him, you can’t stop me.’

‘And what will you do to support yourself? You’ve got no money. No job. Nothing.’

I slammed my coffee cup on the counter, brown liquid sloshing into a wide puddle beneath. ‘Why do you care? Youhateme.’

‘I do. You’re no good for him. You don’t understand how well you’ve got it. But I want grandchildren. One baby is all you need to give me.’

‘Don’t you mean to givehim?’ She was beyond the pale. ‘I can’t get pregnant when Jerry prefers video games to sex.’

‘It’s a wife’s job to figure it out. If your husband won’t sleep with you, you’re doing something wrong.’

I bit my lip, trying to hold in the rage. I couldn’t.

‘He’s not fucking perfect. I’ve tried everything. I can’t keep doing this.’ A twisted laugh came from my mouth and I knocked the coffee cup to the floor in a flare of madness.

‘Divorcing him will leave you penniless. Everything is in my name. Your house, the cars.Everything. Jerry trusts me.’

The world tilted. If what she said was true, there really was nothing to take forward to a new life.

‘I can give you money. Give me nine months and a grandchild, and I can give you enough to start fresh.’ Desperation made her voice rise.

‘You want me to have a baby and hand it over to you? You’ve got one overgrown man-baby already. You’re crazy.’

I stormed out of the room, my mind racing. Leaving was a surety. I only needed to figure out the how.

Staying in that cluster-fuck of a family was no longer an option. Wasting my life trying to appease a man who didn’t appreciate me…

Done.

I wasdone.

TWENTY-FOUR

BOBBY

Refreshing my site every ten minutes didn’t make her messages appear.

Driving past her house didn’t even give me a glimpse of her. I’d seen an older woman leaving, hugging Ashley’s husband as though it was the last time she’d see him, her body language screaming out her annoyance.

I needed to see Ashley.

The house was quiet when I approached it in the dead of night, a breeze blowing through the trees in the garden and chilling me.

There was no budge in the sliding door, and I pulled out my lock picking tools, working quickly to access my pet’s home.

It was risky. Stupid, even. But I needed to talk her.

Silence filled the house as I crept through its sleek interior. Would I find Ashley in her husband’s arms, making up for all the time he’d ignored her?

The thought filled me with anger. Anger that I had no right to feel.

I’d tracked her down. Stalked her to her home. Taken her.

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