Tragic Beauty (Beauty & The Darkness #1)(57)

“Oh, come on. Ava’s cooking tonight. First time. Kind of a big deal, you know? Figured you’d want to be here, you having it bad for her all these years too. But hey, if you can’t, no big deal. I know Rex and Pete will come up. We’ll have ourselves a good time, won’t we, Ava?”

I nod while my lungs go tight. All I want to do is cry, but I don’t. I just keep putting things away.

“Fine,” Red says. “What time?”

“What do you say, Ava, seven? That’ll give you a couple hours to get everything ready. Will that work?”

I nod again.

“Seven it is!” Shayne says, slapping his hand on the counter and making me flinch. “Going to have ourselves a get together.”

“See you then,” Red mutters, and leaves.

“Be sure to dress up!” Shayne calls out, then the door to the garage slams shut.

I’m trembling so hard a bag of pasta falls out of my hand and lands on the floor. Shayne moves in and grabs it quick. “Here, wifey, let me get that for you.”

I take it from him carefully and set it on the counter. He’s standing close. So close, I know to stand quietly for him. He pulls my hair back with his finger, then strokes my cheek, the beer on his breathe making my stomach turn. “Good thing I kept those clothes I got for you,” he says. “I’ll find you something real pretty. How does that sound?”

I nod.

“I want you to look nice tonight, Ava,” he whispers. “I want you to be perfect. But for me, this time. Me. Not him. Can you do that?”

I nod again, a tear slipping down my cheek. This is bad. This is all so bad.

“Good little wife,” he says. “See you at seven.” He places a kiss on my cheek, gives me a pat on the head, then grabs the six pack of beer and walks out. “And don’t forget dessert!”





CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR




Ava




I thought I’d already gone down about as deep as a soul could go—down into that black abyss called hell—but I was wrong. There’s more to go. I guess there will always be more to go.

It takes me a while, but I get all the bags emptied. Why’d I make such a big list? Because I’m stupid, that’s why.

Once it’s all put away, I start on dinner. First, I scrub the potatoes then get the fixings ready for the apple pie. I can’t focus too well, but at least I’m making things I’ve made plenty of times before. But there’s a catch to that—a big spoonful of sorrow that goes along with everything I’m doing. Because I’m making things I love. Things Helen taught me. Things I used to make for Ben and even my father. Things I’ll never want to make again.

I get the pie done and ready so it just needs to go in the oven, and get started on the chicken. My hands shake so hard, it takes me a bit just to get it clean and dry, and buttered up.

It feels like I’m moving in a slow daze, but every time I look at the clock, the world seems to be spinning faster and faster.

At quarter to six, I’ve got the table set for three, and the chicken, potatoes, and pie in the ovens. There’s a pretty sunset going outside, raking itself along the mountains, but I can’t even bring myself to look at it. All I can think about now is the idea that I need to get myself ready. A sick feeling crawls through my body, feeling like now it’s my turn to get buttered up, so I can be stuffed in the oven.

Back at the door to my room, I open it slowly, not sure what to expect. I haven’t seen or heard anything from Shayne since the conversation in the kitchen, and part of me wonders if he might be lurking in here, but the only thing I notice when I peek in, is the dress laying on the mattress. The knot in my stomach tightens. It’s white with red roses on it. It’s not the dress I wore that day, but it’s close. The roses are bigger, and the style is different. This one is shorter and sleeveless, with a deep V neckline. There’s also a red ribbon on the bed that I know is meant for my hair, and a pair of red heels on the floor. I wasn’t wearing heels back then, but guess I am today.

My legs are so wobbly I have to sit on the edge of the bed before I collapse. I look to the closet, wishing I could just disappear into that dark space.

But a shower waits.

And a beast.

His friend too.

A little before seven, I’m dressed up and back in the kitchen. Outside it’s almost dark, and both the chicken and apple pie are done. I take the apple pie with shaky hands and set it aside to cool for later, and put the chicken on a platter with the rosemary potatoes around it. I even add a few sprigs of rosemary to dress it up. I don’t know why I do that. So stupid.

I set the platter on the table and hear the sound of voices coming from down the hall. I walk quickly to the kitchen and begin wiping down the counter because I don’t know what else to do.

“There she is,” Shayne says. He comes up from behind and grips my waist, pressing me to him. “Damn, you look good, baby.”

I smell beer and cologne—cologne I know I’d melt to, in another time, another place. But not now, because all I smell is fear. My fear.

The beast leans into my neck and breathes in. “Mmmm, you smell so fucking good, Ava. And that necklace looks so pretty on you. Guess you got the little presents I left for you in the bathroom.”

He nuzzles my neckline, in such an intimate way I don’t know how to respond. Everything’s so mixed up. Just like how I felt when I saw the small box of perfume on the bathroom counter, and the velvet box next to it, holding the most beautiful necklace I’d ever seen.