Page 116 of Fresh Canvas
Beep.
An exasperated sound growled from my throat. The third call went to voicemail again.
“Stupid phone. Anyways, I wonder if they forged the condition report so no one would notice any changes once they swapped it out. Like they were taking extra precautions this time, unlike Attersee’s condition report with the yellowing lily.And I still don’t know who is behind all this, but don’t think it’s KendraorBlythe. I guess on Monday we can get together… I mean, if you are still…”
My throat tightened. “I’m sorry, okay? Just know—I never wanted to hurt you. If you don’t want to talk, it’s… Well, I get it. Good night, Amantha.”
I hung up.
I didn’t know if she would ever listen to the recordings.
Or ever pick up a call from me again.
After all, who would want to answer a call from the devil?
thirty-three
AMANTHA
On Saturday morning, Mom’s sounds from the kitchen woke me from a deep sleep. My eyes felt like they had been rubbed with sand.
I had dreamt up that nightmare of a wedding again last night, and it was exhausting. I never could shake the sensation of Ryan’s kisses, or the look of Val’s cruel smile as he taunted me that I wasn’t Stella. That I never would be.
Each time I’d had the nightmare, it had the nasty habit of staying with me all day. Like staring at black dots on a white paper for too long, I saw ghostly replications everywhere I looked: a stained glass window, a flash of Anthony’s lavender tie, and candlelit silk.
Rolling over, I debated avoiding reality altogether and falling back to sleep. While the idea tempted me, there were too many loose ends from last night. I should text Blythe, possibly even Kendra, to apologize for vanishing during the event. And Kate might be worried too.
The thought of the Cormac Padraig summoned another wave of exhaustion. Should I alert the authorities? The evidence I found wasn’t exactly the smoking gun I had hoped for, but itwassomething. The foul play was undeniable. But what did the evidence even prove?
My rant by the fountain came rushing back. Without the red haze of fury, last night looked slightly different now. Val’s chestnut irises had seemed genuinely worried about me. Or was acting just another one of his hidden talents?
The whole situation still felt off, but for the first time, I wasn’t sure my assumptions about Val had been correct.
I rolled onto my stomach, shoving my face into a pillow. This was too much, too early.
I couldn’t turn Val in now. Val had broken my heart, but did he deserve to be implicated in a crime he may not have committed? I couldn’t do that to an innocent man, no matter how badly I wanted to avenge myself.
Within the fluffy mound of my pillow, my eyes stung at the notion he could have possibly just beenVal.Not a criminal, but a man I still loved—despite my best efforts not to. An innocent man listening to the accusations spilling from my itching throat.
If only I had a time machine.
Last night, I hadn’t only unleashed on Val. No, those words had been meant for Ryan too. And regardless of what he had done, Val didn’t deserve to be held accountable for the actions of my cheating ex.
I groaned into a sitting position, still clumsy from sleep. Clutching the soft comforter to my chest, I tried to breathe through my anxiety.
The pit in my stomach only grew heavier.
Something felt wrong.
Really wrong.
Intuition made me reach for my cell phone and unplug the charger. A rapid intake of breath jolted me awake.
I flicked the scrolling notifications on my lock screen one, two, three times. Twelve missed calls. Nine texts. Three voicemails. I scrambled to check the log of missed calls. Val had called multiple times around two in the morning. The rest were from Ryan, and even a few from Vanessa— their timestampsbeginning around four in the morning. A shiver ran down my spine.
Anthony.
My trembling fingers dialed Ryan’s phone number. If something had happened to my baby, he better be thanking the heavens that his royal jewels were on a different continent.
