Page 99 of Married to Number 22
To come into her own.
To say her piece.
To protectherself.
More spasms clench my heart—both because I’m shoving away flashes of a future without this woman passing through my mind like a depressing slideshow and also because?—
“No,” she says, turning and looking at me, her eyes so bright and beautiful when they connect with mine that my lungs freeze, not restarting until she glances at the semi-circle of people surrounding her.
“No,” she says again. “I’m not alone.” Her chin lifts. “All that’s left of my family may be jerks, but I’m building a new one—and they don’t get sick satisfaction from hurting or manipulating or trying to squeeze every bit of usefulness out of me. They like me as I am, and they have my back instead of sucking me dry.”
Christ. My throat is tight.
My eyes burn.
Because I’m so damned proud of her.
How had I ever let her go a decade ago?
Of course, I know why.
Youth and time, busy lives and heavy travel, spending too much time being an idiot while working toward my dreams.
And…immaturity—not understanding exactly how precious of a gift she is.
Lucky for me, shedidknock on my door.
Because I recognize the treasure, the beauty of her, and I’m prepared to fight tooth and nail for it.
Today.
Forever.
“See,” she says, “you chipped away at me when I was a girl, wore me down when I was caring for Grams. You took advantage of my grief, and you poked and prodded and eroded anything I wanted to do with Smythe, no matter how good. And for a while, I believed it was better to back down, to walk away. Then Aiden helped me fight?—”
“Fuck yeah, sweetheart,” Smitty says.
Luns glances back at him, a soft smile on her face, before she’s turning back, stepping closer. “The thing is, you pushed me too far. Now, I’mnotalone, I’m not bereft with grief, and I’m sure as hell not uncertain and cowed. Oh no”—a shake of her head—“I’m finally thinking clearly. And I’m going to fight for what I want—even if that means going toe-to-toe with you.”
Frank Maybelle looks rightfully terrified.
But John—never the smartest tool in the box—doesn’t seem to realize the end is near. His sneer grows at Luna’s words, deepening the ugly furrows in his face. “Such idiotic sentiments.” A sniff. “Especially when we can draw this out, can bankrupt you in a legal battle that will go on for years.”
“And drain the family’s trust fund when my lawyers come after it for fees?” she asks archly.
Fuck yeah, sweetheartis right.
John growls, steps forward, lifting his hand as though he’s going to hit her.
I move without thinking, darting between them, and grabbing him by the throat, squeezing.
Tightly.
John chokes, his face turning purple, and he scrabbles at my hand, trying to pull my fingers free.
But, yeah, that’s not going to fucking happen. “You fucking touch her,” I growl, holding his eyes that are the same color as Luna’s eyes and yet nothing alike, “and I will rip you apart, piece by piece by—” I shake him like a rag doll. “—piece.”
He gargles out something unintelligible.
