Page 68 of The Ring
When we were together, I never doubted her love for me, not even when we argued. But now? Now, I’m not sure. So much has happened. Still, I can’t fathom a world, a universe, or a moment in time where I wouldn’t love her, and I hope she feels the same.
“Are you really asking me that?” Cornelia replies. It’s not like I expect her to give a straight answer right away. Most times when something emotionally charged comes up, she dances around the bushes.
“Yes,” Annabelle answers.
“He did one of the vilest things anyone could have done to me. How could I still love him after that? Thinking that I could is ridiculous, and disgusting...”
It takes all my strength not to lose it right there. With just a few words, she manages to break me.
I quickly walk away—I can’t stay here.
I can’t hear how disgusted she is with me.
I can’t hear any more.
I can’t…
The room spins.
I—I need distance.
I—I somehow manage to make my way to the other side of the nightclub, weaving through the crowd.
A waiter with a tray passes by me.
I grab a champagne flute and chug it in one go.
“Rough night?” a girl behind me asks.
I turn around and look down, focusing on her—Weberly Johnson. Even with a mask on, her fiery red hair makes her easy to recognise.
“More like rough year,” I choke out.
Chapter 39
Cornelia
“Ihate masquerade parties,” Laurie says as he leans against the bar counter beside Annabelle. She turns around and positions herself at my side so we can both look at him. He’s dressed in a black shirt, black trousers, and a small black mask. It’s not a surprising statement. Laurie has never been fond of them, given he’s terrible at recognising anyone behind a mask. Which did make me wonder if that’s the reason Annabelle chose one that barely conceals her face.
“I’ve spent the last ten minutes chatting to people I was certain I knew—turns out I didn’t. You two are the only people I’ve talked to all night that I can say for sure are who I think you are.”
“Are you sure we’re who you think we are?” I grin at Laurie, then glance at Annabelle. “Are you really Annabelle Pieret?”
Annabelle sniffs a laugh and straightens the stick holding her mask so it covers her better. “And are you really Cornelia Monroe?”
Laurie looks at us, amused, but reaches for the stick withAnnabelle’s mask to prove his point—that yes, of course, we are who we are. As he does, his hands linger on hers a moment longer than necessary. Annabelle looks up at him, a soft smile spreading across her face, and his eyes soften in a way I’ve only seen with Camille. There’s something magical about watching two people fall in love, as if you’re seeing two souls find a home in each other. At the same time, it makes my heart ache a little, reminding me of when it happened to me.
I feel this is my cue to leave them alone.
Laurie raises his brows after getting Annabelle’s mask. “We have one Annabelle Pieret here,” he says, pointing at her. “And—” He reaches for mine, but I bat his hand away.
“You know what? I think you’re just bad at recognising people. So I’ll go find some people you actually know,” I say, slipping off before either of them can object.
I would like to say I’m doing it for them, but the truth is, I feel an urge to go find TJ.
I walk around the club, and it takes me about twenty seconds to spot him—but I wish I hadn’t.
I freeze.
