Page 173 of Endgame
While they talk, I start wondering.
Stafford clearly isn’t upset about what Everett’s done. About his friend forcing this marriage on me. He smiles at my husband.
He understands him. I can tell.
He must know how much pain Everett’s been through. He must agree that Everett is entitled to such ruthless revenge. Or he didn’t like the idea, but Everett told him we’re on good terms now.
If it’s the first option, then whatever happened to Everett must’ve been devastating. More than I could ever imagine.
Lead lines the bottom of my stomach. Guilt threatens to swallow me whole.
Everett senses it, placing his hand on the small of my back. Same as before.
Except now I’m far less floaty. I’m being weighed down. Pain and confusion slice through me.
I need…
I need…
“Hey, you.” A finger taps my shoulder. I turn to the source of the voice.
Ivy.
Her sapphire-blue eyes look down at me curiously. They’re highlighted by her pearl-colored dress and her platinum-blonde hair. The color is so bright that she must’ve been in the salon today or yesterday at the latest.
Everett’s hand finds my waist in record speed, hauling me to him. “Leave her.”
“Ooh, possessive, that one.” She winks, the gesture patronizing. “Don’t worry. I want to grab a drink with your new wife, that’s it. Promise I won’t bite.”
Of course she won’t. I’d claw her eyes out if she tried. Two stints in prison and a dozen nights in jail, then living with Everett have made a fighter out of me.
“Leave. Her,” Everett repeats.
Unlike him, I don’t want her to leave.
For the first time ever, I’m allowed to really talk to these people.
Someone actually takes an interest in me, and she might give me the key to help Everett with his revenge. He’d be so proud of me when I return with information. Any information about this group would be helpful, right?
“I’m okay.” I cover Everett’s hand, rubbing his much larger one with my palm. “I’ll be right back. Promise.”
Clouds gather in his eyes. His silence stretches, thick and ominous. The entire room holds its breath, waiting for him to speak.
Needing his approval doesn’t embarrass me. On the contrary.
He’s my shield. A wall standing firm between me and the world. The gatekeeper of my safety, deciding who’s allowed in our little circle of two.
He’s keeping me safe.
That, on top of the pain and guilt that have plagued me, brings tears to my eyes. I interlace our fingers together, squeezing his. Silently reassuring him.
“Drinks. That’s it.” His shoulders tense, eyebrows dropping low. “I don’t want you leaving my sight. Not even for a second, understood?”
As if on cue, servers return to circulate hors d’oeuvres and champagne on silver platters. People murmur to each other.
Ivy’s “aww” is as cynical and antagonizing as everything about her.
Everett whips his head to her, glowering. “Shut up.”
