Page 18 of Tainted Tempos

My husband chuckles, but the sound is pained. Angry. Reckless.

“Talk to me!” he pleads. And it’s a fair command. Why can’t I give him the words? The reassurances? The love that he’s always given me?

I stare back, unable to form the words I desperately want to say.

“Whatever, Mckenna. Sit here and stew. I’m going for a run.” Mav strides toward the door. “We have dinner at eight p.m. Try not to look so goddamn miserable.”

A minute later, the door to our suite slams shut.

Shit. I sit back in my chair and try to process. A whistle cuts the air, and I realize it’s me trying to suck in oxygen. Dizziness swirls through my mind, and the edges of my vision grow hazy.

Dark and distorted.

Bran’s laugh cuts through my head. Maniacal and desperate.

I drop my head to the table and focus on the moment. The seconds. The air in my lungs and the background noises of the resort.

I’m having dinner with Mav at the resort’s fancy restaurant in two hours. A paparazzo will be present to photograph us enjoying our honeymoon.

And Mav essentially just served me future divorce papers.

But I’m not letting go easily.

I’ve been through hell and have somehow come out on the other side.

I’m remembering and recalling and processing.

Branson Burton may have destroyed aspects of my life, but he cannot have my marriage.

I won’t fucking allow it.

FIVE

MAV

Mav

This isn’t going to work.

Jameson

It’s only been a few days, Mav.

Reign

Give her time to adjust...

Jameson

Give yourself time to process too.

Did you tell Mom?

Levi

There’s no shot in hell it’s going to work.

Jameson

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