Page 40 of Broken Vows
My shoulders lift on my next inhale. I amreluctant to end the call, but I know I can’t avoid my brother much longer. Our relationship is defined by him showing up when he wants something or with his hand out, and he won’t leave until I deal with whatever’s got him into a snit.
“I have to go.”
“Me too,” she murmurs. “My mother is probably wondering where I am.”
That makes me frown. “Where are you?”
“Sitting in my car, outside her house,” she admits. “I needed a second to decompress after everything that happened.”
Curiosity beats at me, but I don’t press. If there’s anything Lynley needs, it’s someone who listens to her and respects what she says. She doesn’t want to talk about it tonight, so we won’t talk about it.
“Well, if you change your mind about talking or you just wanna hear my voice, call me back,” I fill my voice with suggestion, and she chuckles, the sound wrapping around me. “No matter what I’m doing, I’ll pick up.”
“You’re confident, huh?”
“I know what I want.”
There’s a long pause, and then a quiet, “I’m learning what I want too.” A click immediately follows, and then she’s gone, leaving me staring at my phone and hating this distance. It’s a lesson in patience, though, and one I need.
It’s a delicate balance, ensuring she knows where I stand while she’s still legally married, but I won’t ever let her doubt my intentions.
I get changed into some sweats and a lightweight shirt, and then head out to face Thatcher, finding him drinking my best scotch in the kitchen.
“About time,” he mutters, throwing the last of his drink back and pouring himself another. I grab a tumbler formyself and snatch the bottle away from him, heading to the other side of the kitchen. The guy’s a mess and doesn’t need any more, and I’m feeling petty enough that I don’t want to share the good stuff—especially when he probably isn’t even tasting it.
“You come over just to drink my booze?” I ask, winging up a brow. He scoffs, his cheeks ruddy as he eyes me with irritation.
“Nice of you to finally acknowledge me,” he snaps, slapping a palm against the counter.
“Interesting opener for someone who wants something,” I murmur, taking a slow slip, enjoying the warmth of the scotch as it slides easily down my throat.
Thatcher’s eyes flare. “Who said I want something?”
My sigh is more drawn-out now, unwilling to do this dance with him. “You always want something, Thatch.”
His lips press together, but he seems to shove his agitation aside, drawing his shoulders back as he fixes his expression into something mild, unthreatening. I stare back at him, not fooled by the mask, but he doesn’t let my lack of expression stop him.
“We need to talk about Angelica.”
Chapter 17
Christopher
The door doesn’t slam when Lynley leaves, but it feels as loud as a gunshot. I stare at the space where she was standing, unable to comprehend what just happened.
Caroline stomps her feet, yelling, “What the hell are you doing?” I glance her way, distantly observing how her face has gone an unhealthy puce color. “You have to go after her!” She flaps a manic hand around, and I laugh lowly, dropping into an armchair. I hunch over, pressing my elbows to my knees, hands hanging between my legs.
“And say what?” I ask absently, eyes on the manila envelope that sits on the coffee table. It looks innocuous, except I know what’s inside and the ending it represents.
Caroline lets out an ear-splitting shriek, and I shoot her a glare. “She knows, Christopher! You can’t just sit here and act like nothing’s wrong. She’ll tell Geoff?—”
“Not sure that’s my problem.”
“Why wouldn’t it be?” she demands haughtily. “Just because you lost your job doesn’t mean you don’t still have responsibilities.”
I slowly lift my head. “You’re kidding, right? I played into your demands so Lynley wouldn’t find out.” I gesture to the house at large. “Look around, Caro. She already knows!” Caroline falters, but I don’t give her a chance to get a second wind. “Look, maybe you should go and figure your marriage out. If you tell him before Lynley does, he might forgive you.”
Her mouth drops open. “You’re kidding, right? He’s not gonna forgive me for this! He thinks I was just blackmailing you for money, not actually fucking you.”
