Page 110 of The Alpha's Cursed Queen

“Are you sulking?” Her eyes go wide in an incredulous look.

“Why do you care?” I shoot back at her.

“I don’t,” she says sharply, and I flinch.

“Good. Then go back inside. Go network. You’re good at it.” I take out a third cigarette, and this time, when her hand darts forward, I hold it just out of her reach. “I don’t think so. Why are you even out here, Alice? Go back inside. All your admirers are in there.”

Her eyes narrow into tiny slits. “Is that what this is about? You’re jealous?”

“Jealous?” I light the cigarette and take a puff before holding it out of her reach once more in case she tries to snatch it again. “I don’t have the right to be jealous, remember?”

“Correct. You don’t,” Alice says, her voice hard. “So, stop smoking out here like some sort of thug.”

“I don’t know what part of town you live in, but smoking isn’t limited to thugs, Alice.”

“It’s an ugly habit.” She looks annoyed. “I don’t want you smoking around Mira.”

The mention of my daughter makes me scowl. “I’m not an idiot. I’m not going to smoke in front of her.”

“You shouldn’t smoke at all, period.”

Annoyed and heartsick, I drop the cigarette at my feet and stomp it out. “Happy? Now, go inside. I want to be left alone for a while.”

I turn away and begin walking. To my annoyance and surprise, she trails after me.

“Where are you going?”

“What are you, my keeper?”

“I’m worried about you!” she explodes. “You’re not acting like yourself.”

I turn to stare at her. “And how would you know what I’m like? You haven’t seen me in seven years. Maybe I’m an alcoholic with a nicotine problem. Ever consider that?”

Alice isn’t easily deterred. “No, I didn’t consider that,” she snaps at me. “But I do know that you’re out here sulking like a child.”

“Why do you care, Alice? Let me sulk like a child or like an adult. It doesn’t matter to you. I don’t matter to you.” When she stiffens, I say in a kinder tone, unable to stop the wearinesslacing it, “Go away, Alice. My problems are my problems. I’ll deal with them. It doesn’t matter how. Don’t worry about me.”

When I walk off this time, she doesn’t follow me.

The event is taking place near a small park with a few food stalls. It’s relatively quiet at this time of night, and I head over to one of the benches and sit down. I take out a cigarette, but before I can light it, I recall Alice’s face.

Growling, I snap it in half and toss it along with my lighter into the trashcan nearby. “She’s not even here, and she’s still bothering me. How am I supposed to move on when she lives in my head, rent-free?”

But that’s just the problem isn’t it? I don’t want to move on.

I stare at the woods, wishing I could shift and go for a run. I want to shed my human skin. I want to be free for a while, free from all responsibilities and heartaches. Even though I have Jimmy, there are times when I feel so alone in this world that I think the silence will kill me.

I tilt my head back and gaze at the night sky instead. I missed so many of my daughter’s milestones. When she took her first step, when she crawled for the first time, when she said her first word. I never got to hold her as an infant. I never saw her leave for her first day of kindergarten. I missed so much, and I want to blame Alice for it, but I can’t.

I close my eyes. I’ll have to head back eventually, but I don’t want to. I don’t want to see Alice surrounded by other men. I don’t want to see her smile at other men since I know I’m the last person she would ever smile at.

I smell the food before I hear Alice’s voice. I open my eyes as she sits beside me, holding two hot dogs.

“Here.” She shoves one of them into my hand. “Eat.”

I have no choice but to take it. “What are you doing here?”

“Trying to help you deal with whatever problems you have.”

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