Page 43 of Push

“Can’t you see, Tobias? You’re forever collecting all the strays. Ian is no better than his tramp mother!”

“Mum, for Christ’s sake, Abigail isn’t—”

“Don’t ever mention her name in this house!” My mother’s shrill voice echoed through the kitchen. She clenched her hand on the edge of the counter to steady herself. “You don’t see women likethemcoming, Tobias. You’re a naive lamb. Gwennever wantedyou. She came crawling out of the gutters of Cabramatta with dollar signs in her eyes—”

“Stop.”

The cold bite of my voice was enough for my mother to clamp her mouth shut. She fumed in silence as she gulped down the wine in her glass.

Reality was heavy. My shoulders slumped under the weight of everything crashing in on me. “Mum, I understand you’re angry, but point your frustration in the right direction, okay? None of what happened is Gwen’s fault. Some of this has to play out in public because it was made public—not by her, but by the other woman involved. I’ve got a lot of work ahead of me to prove to my wife she can trust me again.”

“Save yourself the effort. You’re better off without that trash.”

That comment was the final straw. I wasn’t sure if the anger or disgust warring inside me locked my jaw shut. I didn’t need any more words, though. I was done. In two strides, I was already at the kitchen doorway.

“Tobias,” my mother shrieked. “Where on earth do you think you’re going?”

“The only person I’m better off without is you.” I bowed with a flourish. “Most respectfully, Mother dearest, please shove that beef Wellington up your sanctimonious ass.”

And when I stormed out the front door with her still screaming after me, I knew I’d never step foot in her kitchen ever again.

15

She Argued Her Case

Gwen

Hunched over, hopping onone foot, and struggling to sling on a black stiletto, I made it down the hallway in record time. Noah’s squeaky book dropped onto the hallstand, but the other stiletto stayed tucked under my arm—multitasking at its finest.

Toby will be here any second.

I dreaded glancing at my phone to check the time. Not only because tears prickled every time I saw Toby’s stream of lies about missing me, but because of the newest message from Ian.

Ian

Let me treat you to a night off. A proper break. Dinner and my long-winded complaints about Cormac McCarthy. I’ll arrange a sitter.

Think about it xo

Hell no.

I steadied myself by clutching the hallstand, my breathing ragged, and I clamped my eyes shut to let the dark swallow the memory of Ian’s hands on me.

I need to get the hell out of this house.

A car door slammed outside.

I spared myself the ring of the doorbell by hauling open the front door just as the footsteps bounced to a stop outside. When I saw Toby’s face, I regretted asking him to come over. It was six in the morning, and he was positively beaming.

The man loved being useful, and there was no better way for him to feel valuable than beingalmostthe last person I’d called to look after Noah for the day. The winner of last place was Toby’s mother. Hell would freeze over before I asked for that woman’s help.

“Morning, Gw—” Toby’s words died in his throat.

His eyes raked over me from head to toe, starting at my neatly knotted bun, expensive silk blouse, and charcoal suit. It was only thanks to shapewear I’d been able to squeeze my ass back into the pencil skirt. Toby’s eyes stopped on the black stiletto on my foot. He gulped. He’d always liked the heels.

“You going somewhere special?” he asked.

I was tempted to leave him sweating with the confused look on his face, but he needed to know. “I have job interviews lined up all morning.”

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