Page 96 of Fiery Romance

“Let me ask it a different way. Did your grandmother fill your head with lies—”

His eyes whip up. “No.”

“Abe, don’t cover for her. See, this is exactly why I didn’t want you around Genevieve. She’s taking things too far.” My jaw clenches.At the very least, she should have some decency and keep the kids out of it.

“You never understand anything!” My son explodes.

I’m so shocked that I don’t even blink.

“It’s always about what you think and what you want! You hate Nan for no reason and you hate me too. You hate everything that reminds you of mom.”

My eyebrows tighten in the middle of my forehead. It feels like I’m being sucker-punched. “What the hell are you talking about?”

Tears fill his eyes. His chest heaves as he fights to keep the emotion at bay, but it’s playing so close to the surface that he’s powerless.

“Abe—”

He whirls around and storms up the stairs. I hear his door slam shut a moment later.

A restless feeling builds in my chest. I don’t know how to let it out. How to escape it. This isn’t something that working out will release. It’s too prickly. Too thorny. It’s got my heart pulsing and bleeding.

I rub my forehead and squeeze my eyes shut. If I didn’t have two minors at home, I’d probably get in my car and drive at speeds that would get me arrested.

But I’m stuck.

Call Island. Talk to her. Just a minute. Just a second of her voice and you’ll feel better.

The whisper is loud, but I reject it. I can’t keep relying on Island every time I need to breathe. And it’s so late that she must definitely be asleep by now.

Swiping my palm over my face, I retreat to the living room, pull out the photo albums and page through them.

Is there any truth to Abe’s accusations?

I trace a finger over the lines of Anya’s face. A strong face. Beautiful. Striking eyes that a man could drown in.

I’m letting her down.

The pain is crushing.

My phone buzzes.

Absently, I reach for it, assuming it’s someone from the company.

It’s Island.

Surprise makes my body stiff. Anticipation and guilt tug equally at me.

Anya’s right here, eyes piercing me through the transparent flaps of the photo album. She’s seeing the relief spread on my face. She’s seeing the eagerness to talk to another woman.

I know it isn’t rational to think that she’s still here, that she’d be disappointed in me for moving on. Darrel told me as much.

So why does it still feel like cheating?

I close the book and answer the call in a business-like tone, “Miss Hayes.”

“Hey, sorry. I thought you’d be asleep by now, but I didn’t know what to do.”

“What’s wrong?” I scramble to my feet, ready to knock on the neighbor’s door and ask them to keep an eye on my kids while I rush out.

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