Page 42 of Cry, Little Dove

Her legs are impossibly long and her slender feet fit perfectly into cream suede heels with red bottoms. A designer handbag dangles from her left arm, and she’s dressed in an immaculately fitted, all-white pantsuit with rhinestones at the wide collar.

“Don’t be mad I didn’t call first,” she says, putting a dainty hand on Cain’s shoulder, gold bangles jingling around her wrist. “I thought I’d catch an earlier flight this week so we can spend some time together. L.A. has been a drag.”

Cain grins, running his fingers through his hair. What the fuck ishewearing, anyway? A pressed button up shirt, slacks, and loafers… My heart does somersaults.

Did he dress up for her?

“You know you’re always welcome here, Mandy, but your timing—” he starts and her melodic laughter cuts him off. The cogs in my brain finally make the connection when she half turns, and I get a better look at her face.

Oh, my fucking God… Ihaveseen her.

When I lived alone and couldn’t sleep, I sometimes watched makeup tutorials online to help me unwind. That’s where I know her from. The fastest growing makeup influencer of the past years and owner of theMandysMakeupMagicchannel is standing 10 feet away from me. In the flesh.

“Oh, timing shmiming.” She waves a hand as she rises on her tiptoes and presses her lips to Cain’s cheek, leaving a glossy pink print. “I missed you. Is that not allowed?”

My knees give out.

I have heard and seen enough.

Tears clouding my eyes, I wobble to the bedroom. I feel so stupid.

This house isn’t my home and it never can be. I don’t fit into the lap of luxury. That’s for perfect, beautiful people with perfect lives and perfect makeup and perfect clothes and perfect fucking everything.

How could I ever think that Cain genuinely cares about me? Even just a tiny little bit?

All his stupid talk about making me his wife and keeping me here… what absolute bullshit! A man like him would never be serious about an average nobody like me.

What do I have to offer him?

Of course he’s dating a celebrity, someone as successful and rich as he is. And on the other hand there’s me, the filthy stray he took in for fun. I’m a cheap toy to play with and discard like trash when he’s done with me.

I slip on a hoodie, grab my handbag and take my phone from the nightstand, throwing it inside. Sniffling, I put on my boots and sneak out into the hallway again. Silent tears stream down my face while I skulk down the stairs. I can still hear them laughing in the office when I open the terrace door in the living room.

Hands balled into fists, I run past the pool. The sobs I held back explode from my chest as I cross the footbridge over the river and dash between the trees.

I don’t give a shit anymore. Not about his threats, not about his sweet talk, and not about him.

I have nowhere to go, but anything is better than listening to Cain flirt with the most gorgeous woman on the planet.

He can come after me if he wants. He has to find me first, and if he does, he can try his ridiculous ploy with those fake medical records.

I might not think highly of myself, but I have enough self-respect that I refuse to be his fucktoy while his girlfriend is right there. If I knew that he’s in a relationship, I never would have let myself enjoy the sex and I sure as hell wouldn’t have started something with him in the car. Cheating goes against everything I believe in.

Feet pounding the dirt, I try to get a sense of direction, but the property around the ranch is massive. During my stay, I haven’t left the patio and landscaped meadows near the house. I’m lost.

I pass a small outbuilding with the green paint peeling off, and a glance through the dusty window slows my pace. A workbench stands in the middle of the room, and a gazillion tools hang along the far wall. There’s a table saw with slats of wood on top, too, and a half-finished bookshelf next to it.

My heart stutters.This is Cain’s workshop.

“Shit!” I shout into the breeze and force myself into a sprint.

Why does this hurt so badly? Why does my chest ache like someone is driving a rusty knife through my heart?

I stop behind a large tree, leaning against the trunk.

I should be glad Cain gave me an easy reason to hate him and leave. If he didn’t, I might’ve… might’ve… would I have stayed?

I must get as far away as possible, but my legs don’t work anymore. My knees buckle and I sink into the tall grass, hiding my face in my hands as I sob.

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