Page 76 of A Labor of Hate
CHAPTERTWENTY-THREE
I WAS LOSING him.
It had been three days since our argument, and things were different between us.Colt didn’t go out of his way to touch me anymore.We held hands on our walks, but I always initiated it.When I’d asked him what was wrong, he’d insisted nothing was.Unfortunately for him, I was also trained in interrogation tactics, and I’m twice as stubborn.
On day two, he relented and admitted that he was “just thinking about things.”I, of course, asked him what sort of things had him so preoccupied, to which he’d given our assignment all the credit.
This, by nature of my sixth sense and eyes that can see, was determined to be a lie.
It was a lie he seemed determined to stick to, though, and no tactics would get him to reveal the truth, short of threatening his clothes iron again.Which I seriously considered.But convincing my sort-of-boyfriend to keep liking me by endangering his most prized possession seemed like a new low, even for me.
So I’d stopped initiating anything and finally resigned myself to the fact that he was pulling away.Maybe finding a tactful way to end whatever romance existed between us and still live peacefully as fake spouses.
I’d given him all the pieces.Even the jagged ones that were peeling around the edges and creased down the middle.I’d gotten a taste of what it felt like to have him put them together, little by little, like the process was precious to him.
He just didn’t like the final picture, I guess.Not worth the effort, maybe.
This morning, I couldn’t take the crushing weight of my thoughts anymore, and I’d texted Vivienne begging her to get coffee with me.Until my ballroom class tonight, it would be me, myself, and my crippling dread alone in the house.
I waved at Vivienne from the booth table I’d secured for us, the muscles in my face foreign as they formed a smile.The hired bodyguard accompanied her, along with the hulking bald guard with a deeply cleft chin, whom I’d not-so-lovingly dubbed ButtFace.
Vivienne grinned when she saw me, practically bouncing with each step until she could greet me with a hug.Her blonde ponytail bounced with her, contrasting beautifully with her royal blue dress.
“I’m so glad you could make it,” I gushed—and I meant it.“I’m going a bit stir crazy at home.”
“Girl, me, too.”She eased into the booth, stopping short when ButtFace tried to sit next to her.She batted her lashes at him and smiled sweetly.“Would you mind ordering for us, please?Get whatever you’d like, too.I’ll have a hot chocolate, and Gavin will have ...”
She looked at the hired bodyguard expectantly.
He looked away from his routine scan of the room to shake his head at her.“I’m good, but thank you.”
“It’ll look a little weird sitting in a coffee shop without a drink, don’t you think?”Vivienne pressed.Her lips formed a pout, but there was a cunning gleam in her eyes.“You should get something.Maksim’s getting something, aren’t you, Maksim?”
Now she turned her pout to ButtFace.He hesitated, his jaw tightening.Then, either swayed by her logic, charm, or not wanting to cause a scene, he relented.
“Yes.A… smoothie,” he grumbled, squinting at the menu above the cashier counter.
Gavin sighed, though his mouth twitched much in the same way Colt’s did when fighting a smile.“In that case, I guess I’ll get a smoothie, too.”
ButtFace grunted and lumbered to the cashier counter, scowling over his shoulder at us the whole time.
“That was impressive,” I mused, lifting my decaf latte at her in respect.The scent of coffee and steamed milk invaded my nostrils.“Can you cry on demand, too?”
She laughed, her smile bright and genuine.Just like it had been at the spa.“Not yet, but maybe I haven’t tried hard enough.”
“Don’t believe her,” Gavin teased, still scanning the room.“She convinced Dante to host a funeral for a baby bird yesterday.”
“Because it was heartbreaking,” Vivienne protested.She cast a surreptitious look in ButtFace’s direction before continuing.“Those tears were real, I’ll have you know.”
“What about the tears when you convinced Sean to run to the supermarket at ten o’clock at night because you were out of ice cream?”
Vivienne sniffed delicately, her cheeks pinkening.“Pregnancy cravings are a real and serious thing.”
I watched their back and forth like a tennis match, utterly befuddled.Had I completely misread everything on Sunday?Because she and Gavin were almost acting like they were…friends.And if her other guards got her drinks and hosted baby bird funerals and bought her ice cream late at night, maybe she was friends withallof them.
And if that were so, I’d convinced myself she was a victim because I’d wanted her to be.I’d wanted so badly for her to be innocent, to need rescuing, because that would absolve some of my guilt.I’d looked at everything through a distorted lens until I saw the reality I wanted.The one where there was a third option waiting at the end of this.
Colt was right.
