Page 121 of Marry Lies
I gasp in mock outrage. “How will I live?”
He chuckles. “Miles offered to drop your favorite tea off in the morning, and he gave me strict instructions to make you a fry up—whatever the hell that means.”
“Okay, thank you,” I tell him, trying to quell the sob that wants to escape my chest.
He must sense it, because he just nods once and then leaves, closing the door behind him.
I fall back onto the bed and curl up on my side as the dam breaks, and suddenly, I’m sobbing into one of Zoe’s fuzzy pillows. Everything hurts—the sting in my throat from crying, the ache in my chest, the heaviness behind my eyes since it’s so late…
I fall asleep with the pink sign still shining between the lids of my closing eyes.
You’ve got this.
* * *
The next week passes slowly. Miles must drop my computer and sketchbook off at some point, because I wake up the first morning with both things sitting on the white desk in Zoe’s room. At first I’m sad because of course I miss him, but the more I think about last night, the more I realize that I still need time.
I spend the whole day sketching, trying to heal the way my heart feels like it’s cracked in half. Trying to salvage the flame inside of me that feels like it’s growing smaller by the hour. I let myself stay in my room, but I refuse to stay in bed, even though I want to.
Liam brings me my meals, complete with my favorite breakfast tea. He even manages to get the milk to sugar ratio perfect—something I attribute to my vexing husband.
The fry up is delicious as well, damn him.
The second day, I go on a three-hour walk in the woods behind Liam’s house. He lives thirty minutes away from the castle, snuggled in the vast woods east of Los Angeles and Crestwood. Since he teaches at Crestwood University, he’s gone during the day with his classes and office hours, and that leaves me a lot of time to think. As I make my way back toward the house, knees and ankles aching from trekking through the uneven terrain for hours, I have a revelation.
I’m not mad about the money. I’ve already decided to talk to my father about everything. I don’t blame Miles for doing what he did. I probably would’ve done the same thing.
I’m hurt that he lied to me.
I’m furious that he withheld his secrets from me and didn’t treat me as the equals we’re supposed to be.
The cellar, the money, the installments, the contract…
All lies.
And yes, he eventually told me about the cellar, but only because I found a spare key.
Only because he had to.
Same with the money; how long would he have gone without telling me about either thing if I hadn’t walked in on him in the cellar?
If I hadn’t overheard him talking to Liam the other night?
Would he have gone the entire year keeping those two things from me?
The third and fourth days are spent doing a mix of sketching, speaking to my website designer, and taking long walks. Every evening, Liam brings my dinner to my room without asking any intrusive questions. It’s like he somehow understands that I need space and silence, which I appreciate.
The fifth day, I wake up to an email that my magazine feature is now live on theCosmopolitanwebsite, and that it will be live in all US magazines later this month. I click through the article, smiling when I see the picture of me that Annette had taken quickly at the very end. My eyes stop when I get to the end of the article.
Estelle: I knew what I was getting into when I married Miles. And despite the horrible things his father did, Miles Ravage is a good man.
Cosmo:Forgive me for the inquisition, Stella. A lot of people are concerned about you. They feel like you and your father have been taken advantage of by a very powerful, very manipulative family.
Estelle:I fell in love with Miles Ravage before I knew who he was. Before I knew the man attached to the name. He’s funny, and kind, and he takes good care of me. He’s the reason we’re sitting here today—because he believes in this clothing line…
I squeeze my eyes shut. I’d forgotten I’d added in that little tidbit.
I fell in love with Miles Ravage before I knew who he was.
