Marry Screw Kill(23)

I shall be telling this with a sigh.

Somewhere ages and ages hence:

Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—

I took the one less traveled by,

And that has made all the difference.



I smile to myself and chuckle at the irony of the words. I’m out in the middle of nowhere and the road I thought I’d be traveling in Rochester isn’t the one I feel like I’m on now. I thought it would be a smooth and boring experience. Instead, it’s turned into a bumpy and provoking eye-opener.

I place the book back inside the purse and glance over the physical remnants of Harlow’s previous life. Her clothes point to a life of struggles and hardships, but the poetry reveals a thoughtful woman in search of life’s meaning.

I change into a clean T-shirt and some gray shorts. After my uncle’s f*cked up behavior tonight, I’m tempted to call a hotel downtown for the rest of my stay, but the thought of leaving Harlow alone in this house with him unsettles me. I remember her sad, haunting eyes in the driveway and how they tugged at my heart.

Tired from traveling, I climb into the bed and stare up at the ceiling. I settle between the sheets and a faint touch of Harlow’s perfume invades my senses. It’s the same fresh, clean scent from inside the confines of her car.

But why is her perfume on this bed?

The answer hits me. She must have made the indent on the bed and now her scent lingers behind to torture me.

I close my eyes, take a few deep breaths, and think of her blond hair flowing as she walked. God, how I wanted to touch it, see if it was as soft as it looked.

I lie awake, thinking of her and how she came to live with James—or, more likely, how he seduced her. Something about their relationship doesn’t add up.





Chapter Twelve


Harlow



I stretch across the soft cotton sheets and look to the other side of the bed. Instead of seeing James, I find cold, crumbled bedding with the covers pushed back. I glance around the room and listen for the shower or running water, but hear nothing. My entire body relaxes knowing there won’t be a round of morning sex … for now.

Luckily, after drinking too much vodka last night, I feel great—no headache or queasy stomach. I close my eyes and retreat back into the sheets, cocooning myself from the world. I focus on the warmth and comfort surrounding me and close my eyes. Nightmares didn’t visit me last night either, leaving me rested and refreshed.

My mind wanders to Sin. I can still see him approaching me at the airport with those strong strides, pulling everyone’s attention to him like a powerful magnet. His piercing, golden-flecked eyes captivated me with an exotic appeal. Remembering them makes my knees weak even now, lying in this bed—the very bed I share with my fiancé, his uncle.

God, my thoughts are twisted, but I can’t stop or deny this pull toward Sin. I bring my hand to my cheek, remembering his heartfelt and tender touch. Wiping away my tear moved and affected me more than it should have. Sin’s attention makes me question everything, blurring the lines of my orderly—or “ordered by James”—life, but I’m feeling. For the first time in months, I’m no longer numb, and whether those feelings are right or wrong confuses me.

My phone begins to vibrate on the nightstand next to me. It makes the wood hum with an odd sound, and I turn it over to see it’s Emma calling me. I have avoided her texts and voicemails for weeks, though I’m not sure why. I’ve felt guilty about it, too. Since James isn’t hovering over me right now, I decide to take the call.

“Hello,” I whisper.

“Oh my God. Finally.” I hear the annoyance in her voice and I can’t blame her. I’ve been a lousy friend.

“I’m sorry, Emma. I haven’t been able to get back with you.” It’s a blatant lie, but I don’t know what to say in regards to essentially blowing her off.

“What is going on with you? I’m beyond worried and need proof of life,” she huffs into the phone. “I’m going to see you today. Either I’ll come rattle the iron gate or you’ll agree to meet me somewhere.”

Well, shit. There’s no use fighting her demands. Her mind is made up, but I need to think of a way to have James approve of me seeing her. Or make up a convincing lie about where I’m going. First things first: I need to make her happy.

“I’ll meet you at the club for lunch. How about noon?”

“The club? You’re kidding? I can’t think of anyone our age that goes to lunch there. Should I wear my pearls?” She follows with a short chuckle tinged with sarcasm.

Going to the club is the best I can hope for. It’s on an approved list of places for me, though I’ve never been without him before, so I have my work cut out for me to win his permission.

“Pearls aren’t required.” I try to lighten the mood in hopes of getting her to agree to come. “They do make a great dirty martini, though. Please?”

“Okay. I am that worried about you. I’ll see you at noon, but you have some explaining to do and martinis will help.”

“Thanks. For what it’s worth, I can’t wait to catch up.”

We end the conversation and I rise from the bed, make it perfectly, and grab my black silk robe. I slip it on, along with a pair of panties, and amble down the stairs toward the kitchen. The smell of coffee hits me first, followed by two deep, male voices.