Page 95 of Keep Me

I stare at her in confusion. “Are you all right?”

But she doesn’t answer me. Instead, she tugs my mouth down to hers and bites my bottom lip between her teeth. Latching herarms around my neck, she kisses me as if she’s trying to distract me…or herself.

Her body clings to mine, and I feel her legs spreading like she wants me to lift her so she can wrap them around me. But I have the sense I’m being misled, and I’m even more confused than I was before.

What is Sylvie not telling me?

Keeping my mouth against hers, she breathes between us. “I do want to go away with you, Killian,” she whispers. “I just—”

The sound of tires on gravel down the driveway stops her words before they leave her mouth. We both turn to watch a car driving slowly toward the house. It’s a black sedan, expensive and private, with dark tinted windows.

“Who the hell is that?” I mutter.

“I have no idea…” Sylvie responds wearily.

We each tug our rain jackets over our heads and walk hand in hand toward the house, but I feel the hesitation in my wife’s touch. Even if she doesn’t know who is at the house, I get the feeling she has a specific fear of who it might be.

By the time we reach the front door of the house, whoever it was has already been welcomed inside. Sylvie glances up at me nervously before I guide her toward the door.

“It’ll be okay,” I whisper comfortingly.

Then I pull open the front door just as Sylvie peeks around me and tears down the hood of her jacket.

Standing in the large entryway of my house is a couple I don’t recognize. The woman is slender with a downturned mouth and long red hair, a few shades darker than Sylvie’s. The man has dark curly hair and a receding hairline, leaving the top of his head bald.

Sylvie’s hand squeezes mine as if she’s suddenly afraid. I glance at her as she gapes in shock at the two people standing before us. I’m just about to scream at someone to tell me what’s going on when she finally opens her mouth to speak.

“Mom…Dad…what are you guys doing here?”

Chapter Thirty-One

“She doesn’t look very excited to see us, Tor,” the man says with a hint of sarcastic humor and a nasally voice. I stare daggers at the two people standing in my home, referring to my wife as if they were the sun, just waiting for her to orbit around them.

“Of course she is,” the woman replies, giving Sylvie a smug, teasing expression. “She’s just surprised.”

“What are you guys doing here?” Sylvie repeats as if to herself.

The woman looks at the man and then back at us. “Well… you said you’d be in Scotland, so here we are.” Then, her eyes trail upward to my face. “You must be the man our daughter ran off to marry.”

“He exists,” the man jokes as they both laugh together. Sylvie and I stay silent.

The woman looks around as if assessing my home. “Truly remarkable design,” she says, pointing to the accents and fixtures.

The man quickly jumps in. “And this rug, Torrence. Did you see this rug?”

“It must be hand knotted,” Sylvie’s mother replies, staring down at the floor.

The two of them go on about the rug as my gaze slides overto Sylvie. She’s staring at them with an expression on her face I’ve never seen before. Lips parted, eyes moist, nostrils flaring. She’s on the verge of tears while being frozen in place.

My heart splinters with rage, but I swallow it down. These are her parents. They might be a bit unconventional, but they are still her family, so I’ll use every ounce of strength inside me to watch my tone and bite my tongue.

When I spot Martha reentering the foyer to help greet our guests, I decide it would be best to invite them in and at least try to act civilized.

I raise a hand to guide them toward the parlor. “Please, come in. Martha will make us some tea, and we…” I stammer, unpracticed in my manners. “We can get to know each other.”

Sylvie’s hand clasps onto my arm, her nails digging into the skin. When she turns toward me, I read the expression of hesitation on her face.Please, no, it says.

I pull her against me and press my lips to her forehead. “It’ll be fine,” I whisper.

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