Page 65 of The Phyre that Burns
“Nothing happened, Nae. We’re just leaving.”
“What about?—”
“Stop asking questions. We’re leaving and that’s that!”
I didn’t mean to raise my voice and didn’t realize I’d done so until she snatched her hand away from me. The valet arrived with my car, and he helped her inside while I hopped in the driver’s seat.
“Phyre—”
“Ginae, please. Give me a minute.”
I felt her gaze on the side of my head, but I couldn’t look in her direction. Terrible thoughts raced through my mind on the drive home, and I prayed none of them were true.
The silenceon the ride home was deafening, but it was even worse after we arrived. We moved through the house like two strangers, making it hard to believe that less than an hour ago, he was whispering in my ear all the things he wanted to do to me when we left.
I’d been racking my brain trying to figure out what happened while I was in the bathroom. I had a strong feeling that Kavia had done or said something, but she wasn’t even at the table when I returned. If it was her that pissed him off, I didn’t understand why it seemed as if he was taking it out on me.
While he showered, I ate one of the premade meals the chef had prepared. I hadn’t eaten since breakfast, and that was over twelve hours ago. Starving wasn’t enough to describe howhungry I was, and the grilled chicken and assortment of mixed vegetables hit the spot.
He entered the kitchen, freshly showered, shirtless, and wearing basketball shorts. No words were exchanged as he poured himself a glass of water and drank it in two gulps. He left the kitchen without acknowledging my presence, and I was tempted to throw the glass he’d left on the counter at the back of his head.
Instead, I finished my food, cleaned up the small mess I’d made, and headed for the shower. By the time I’d finished my bedtime routine, I was pissed and prepared to force Phyre to tell me what the hell his problem was.
The house was chilly, so I slipped on a pair of my pajama pants with one of his hoodies. I found him in the family room, sitting in the recliner, with only the light from the television, which was on mute. I flipped on the light and spoke at the same time.
“You ready to talk now?”
He sat up, adjusting the recliner to an upright position, resting his elbows on his thighs. When our eyes connected, I couldn’t read his, and my gut told me that whatever his problem was, it had everything to do with me.
“Sit down.” He nodded toward the couch.
I crossed the room and sat down, suddenly nervous as hell.
“Did I do something? Because your negative energy feels like it’s directed toward me.”
He didn’t answer immediately, and with each passing second, I became more nervous.
“Do you have any children, Ginae?”
Baffled by his question, I narrowed my eyes as I responded. “No. We’ve already discussed this.”
“Have you ever given birth?”
“What? No. Why are you?—”
“Have you ever been pregnant?”
My stomach sank, and my mouth quickly became as dry as the Sahara Desert.
“Why are you asking these questions?”
“Just answer the question.”
“I don’t have any kids, Phyre. You don’t believe me?”
“That’s not what I asked you. Have you ever been pregnant?” he repeated.
My legs bounced nervously as I rubbed my sweaty palms over my thighs.
