Page 429 of Hate Mates

I really have been dense.

Luckily, once he’s next to me, he remains quiet. I’m grateful as conversation is the last thing I can manage with my head feeling like it’s exploding.

In the reprieve, we ride in silence to old town. I spend the twenty minutes trying to craft the best way to ask Mirabel what happened without sounding like I’m accusing her of something. I fail.

Time is up as Lucian parks in front of the Victorian that houses my apartment. Never once in the past three years have I not loved coming home. With the black iron fence surrounding the property, thick wooden arches lining the front porch, and stained-glass windows, the small mansion has always been my refuge from the violent world encompassing my family.

I will miss living here.

Lucian scans the area of late nineteenth century homes with cobblestone streets and wide sidewalks. Nothing seems amiss, and he comes around for me.

He takes my hand again which isn’t as disgusting as the gesture used to be. At the front door, I turn to tell him good-bye but he stuns me by tapping on the keypad. “How did you know the code?”

“I know everything about you, love.”

Anger and pleasure battle within me. Which staggers me even more. Normally, I’m furious at him. Now with an actualconversation rather than a squabble, I finally understand him and his ways.

Even though he’s never been here before – at least I don’t think – he guides me up the magnificent wooden staircase to my door.

Mirabel’s back is to us while she works in the kitchen.

“Step softly. I’ve got a souffle in the oven.”

The floor creaks under Lucian’s stocky body, and my friend spins around aware I’m not the one walking across the living room to the kitchen.

Her eyes widen as she searches my face for understanding since she didn’t expect him to be here either.

He speaks first. “Why didn’t you give her my message at the hotel in New Orleans?”

So much for my desire to be subtle.

Even though they’re at least ten feet apart, she stumbles back bumping into the table dusted with flour and cocoa and her mouth opens and closes without emitting a single sound.

My heart aches. I recognize her guilty look.

She shakes her head. “I…I thought you…”

I step in front of him. This is between her and I, not her and him. “I want to believe you have a good reason but I just don’t understand. You knew how hurt I was.”

Randomly, she grabs a dish towel and turns to sweep the mess behind her. As if keeping busy protects her. “I forgot. It was a busy morning.”

Unfair for her to play games. “Just be honest. You owe me that.”

After a long minute, she drops the cloth and spins around, hugging herself. We wait her out because I need to know.

Finally, she looks up from the floor. “I was mad at you. Shana took off with that guy she met, and you left with Lucian. I ended up in New Orleans all alone when we were supposed to be havinga fun girls time. I knew you didn’t want to marry him anyway so I thought it didn’t matter.”

I swear Lucian growls behind me. “It does matter because you fucking hurt her by not telling her.”

He’s right. She did hurt me. I nod in agreement. “You had so many chances to make this right.”

Defensiveness makes her angry apparently because she lifts her head with a defiant chin. “Don’t give me that. It’s not my fault you have to marry someone you hate. I was trying to help you. You should be thanking me instead of blaming me!”

The disintegration of our friendship is something else I never expected tonight. “You still should have told me. I deserve to make my own decisions.”

“Tell your Dad that. Not me.”

She stalks away to her room, slamming the door. So much for her souffle.

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