Page 4 of Sins of Bliss

Sadness.

Irritation.

As desperately as I want to give them the cold shoulder, manners and upbringing force me to excuse myself. “Ladies, I’m sorry. I’m not feeling well. Please excuse me.”

My heart hammers in my chest as I walk away, ignoring the curious glances as I weave past the round tables.

I wish Raina was here with me, but she woke up sick and had to cancel. She would have calmed me down—she’s become exceptionally good at grounding me when the world feels like it’s caving in.

Reaching to open the door, my eyes catch on the glittering diamond situated on my left ring finger, and the nausea I felt earlier when I put it on hits me all over again. I take a deep breath and push through the door, letting it close behind me with a loud thud as I rush down the staircase.

The Townsend’s two-story brownstone is familiar, having grown up with both their son and daughter, so I continue ondown the second staircase until I reach their main floor. My back presses against the wall, and I work to steady myself, taking controlled breaths as I place my hand on my chest, giving myself a mental pep talk that everything is okay.

But everything'snotokay. I miss him. Every day, it feels like he’s slipping further and further away.

The depth of my love hasn’t diminished, but the hope of there someday being an us again gets smaller and smaller.

Tears prick my eyes as I think about him, my back still pressed against the wall.

I’m right outside the kitchen and can hear the clattering of dishes and cookware, and the laughter of those inside. The scent of rosemary and butter wafts from the room—lunch must be close to being served.

Footsteps near, and I hear soft feminine voices speaking while they work. One is murmuring something I can hardly decipher, but then her voice raises enough for me to hear.

“Wait, which Lucchetti?” the other woman asks. The sound of a spoon hitting the side of a cup almost drowns out her voice.

I know I shouldn’t eavesdrop, but hearing Sly’s last name has me frozen in place.

“The runaway one!”

Sly.

I take a step to the side so that I’m closer to the edge of the wall and able to hear them better.

“He was shot? How do you know?”

My eyes widen, my hand flying to my mouth to stifle a whimper.

“My friend Misha is their housekeeper and called me right after she heard. Apparently, they got a call from the hospital this morning that he was admitted with a gunshot wound to the chest. Misha was the one who answered the phone. Shewatched Mrs. Lucchetti fall to her knees and sob. Said it was heartbreaking.”

“But he’s alive?” the woman presses.

I’m holding my breath, tears streaming silently down my cheeks as I lean in toward the open threshold, hanging on every word and praying to God that Sly is alive.

“Yeah. He’s alive, but from what it sounds like, he’s in pretty bad shape.”

I can’t listen anymore.

My stomach roils aggressively, practically forcing me to double over. Bile rises in my throat, and I don't think, I just move, running out of the house and onto the sidewalk, where I try to breathe.

Tears blur my vision as I pull my phone from the clutch I've held under my arm and text my driver, telling him to pick me up as soon as possible.

I begin to pace on the sidewalk as I pull up my phone's web browser and search for plane tickets for flights out of LaGuardia. The soonest flight to Ridgewood leaves in just under three hours, and I don’t hesitate to input my credit card information and purchase a seat.

Ten minutes later, Ross, my driver, pulls alongside the curb. I don’t wait for him to get out before I throw open the door and climb inside.

Through the reflection of the rearview mirror, I see him quirk his brow at my quick entrance.

“Where to, Miss Paladino?” Ross asks tentatively, obviously gauging my mood.

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