Page 3 of Tangled Kisses
I click my tongue, surveying the wreckage. “Seems they’re both overpriced and overvalued shit. Don’t you agree?”
The entire showroom falls silent, save for Vander’s footsteps as he rushes over to survey the damage.
He grabs my elbow, his grip firm. “Reese, sweetheart, what’s gotten into you?” His palm brushes against my forehead as if checking for a fever. “Are you sick? This isn’t like you.”
The picture of concern. The doting fiancé.
To the huddled masses, I look hysterical. And normally, I would care—because appearances matter. Just ask Vander and his high-dollar family.
You never expose lies and scandals in public. You cover them with bribes and empty promises.
But I’m done pretending.
I know the truth.
Because while his smile is soft for our audience, his grip on my elbow tightens with every second, and his whisper carries a dagger of warning. “You’re making a scene. Everyone is staring. What is wrong with you?”
It’s his first and only warning.
Cut the shit now or pay the consequences later.
I jab my finger into his chest. “You are what is wrong with me. You and all your fuck buddies here in housewares. What I don’t understand is why you’d shit where you eat?”
“Excuse me?”
“Is everyone hard of hearing around here?” My voice rises with every syllable. “You heard me. Why take me shopping for our wedding at the same store where you’ve fucked half the staff?”
The fury dances in his charcoal-gray eyes, like a fire about to explode into an inferno.
Despite his overtly kind public façade, I’ve embarrassed him, which means I’m in big trouble. Huge. And Vander doesn’t forgive humiliation. Not in private, not in public. Especially not from me.
Hell, this might even earn us a blip on Page Six.
Wouldn’t that be delightful?
“You’re obviously confused. I know you’re exhausted.” He grips my hand, squeezing my fingers like a vise. “Time to get you home so you can rest.”
Perfect. To them, he’s the patient man handling his overwrought bride-to-be. To me, he’s tightening the noose.
I wrench myself free and dust my hands together as if knocking off crumbs. “Don’t worry. I’m going.” I pat his chest, earning the faintest growl under his breath. “You stay. Have fun with your little redhead.”
His smile freezes, his jaw tense as he leans in close. “Stop it,darling.” The three words grate through clenched teeth, sharp enough to cut.
“Don’t be mad.” My voice drips strychnine disguised as sugar. “I’ve always known. I’m just tired of pretending I don’t.”
I glance at the salesgirl, motioning toward the shards of dishes surrounding her.
“Vander will gladly cover the damages. Perhaps give you a little something extra for your trouble. Won’t you,darling?”
I sling my purse over my shoulder and walk out without looking back.
Where’sa green light when you need one?
A green light forces my hand, daring me to follow through on the hasty decision I made only minutes earlier.
A red light gives me time to linger, ruminate, second-guess. And trust me, my brain is a washing machine of turbulent thoughts, spinning on an endless cycle.
I grip the steering wheel, staring at the steady red glow. A quick glance in the rearview confirms I’m the only car in line. The only one waiting to escape.
